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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e5eabf1 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #52998 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52998) diff --git a/old/52998-0.txt b/old/52998-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 95fee43..0000000 --- a/old/52998-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11601 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Richard Hurd, Volume 1 (of 8), by -Richard Hurd - -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: The Works of Richard Hurd, Volume 1 (of 8) - -Author: Richard Hurd - -Release Date: September 7, 2016 [EBook #52998] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF RICHARD HURD, VOL 1 *** - - - - -Produced by Charlene Taylor, Wayne Hammond, Bryan Ness and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned -images of public domain material from the Google Books -project.) - - - - - - - -[Transcriber’s Note: - -Characters preceded by a caret(^) are in superscript, and are enclosed -in curly brackets, i. e. {th}. - -Italicised text delimited by underscores. - -There are many special characters in this text that require a utf-8 -compliant font. If you find characters that appear as a question mark -in a black box or a small rectangle with numbers in it, you should -check your reader’s default font. If you have a font installed with -SIL after the font name, you should use that one.] - - - - - THE - - WORKS - - OF - - RICHARD HURD, D.D. - - LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER. - - VOL. I. - - Printed by J. Nichols and Son, - Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London. - -[Illustration: The Right Reverend RICHARD HURD, D. D. Lord Bishop of -Worcester. - - T. Gainsborough pinx. J. Hall sculp. - -From the Original Picture in the Possession of her Majesty. - -_Published March 1^{st}. 1811. by T. Cadell & W. Davies, Strand, -London._] - - - - - THE - - WORKS - - OF - - RICHARD HURD, D. D. - - LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER. - - IN EIGHT VOLUMES. - - VOL. I. - - [Illustration] - - LONDON: - - PRINTED FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, STRAND. - 1811. - - - - - DATES - - OF SOME OCCURRENCES - - IN THE - - LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. - - - _The following Particulars, in the Author’s own hand-writing, - and endorsed by him—“Some Occurrences in my Life. R. W.”—were - found amongst his papers after his decease._ - - - - -DATES - -_Of some Occurrences in my own Life_. - - -[Sidenote: A. D.] - -[Sidenote: 1719-20] - -Richard Hurd was born at Congreve, in the Parish of Penkrich, in the -County of Stafford, January 13, 1719-20. - -He was the second of three children, all sons, of John and Hannah Hurd; -plain, honest, and good people; of whom he can truly say with the poet— - - _Si natura juberet, &c._ - -They rented a considerable farm at Congreve, when he was born; but soon -after removed to a larger at Penford, about half way between Brewood -and Wolverhampton in the same County. - -There being a good Grammar School at Brewood, he was educated there -under the Reverend Mr. Hillman, and, upon his death, under his -successor, the Reverend Mr. Budworth—both well qualified for their -office, and both very kind to him. - -Mr. Budworth had been Master of the School at Rudgely; where he -continued two years after his election to Brewood, while the -School-house, which had been much neglected, was repairing. He was -therefore sent to Rudgely immediately on Mr. Budworth’s appointment to -Brewood, returned with him to this place, and continued under his care, -till he went to the University. - -He must add one word more of his _second_ Master. He knew him well, -when he afterwards was of an age to judge of his merits. He had been a -scholar of the famous Mr. Blackwell of Derby, and afterwards bred at -Christ’s College in Cambridge, where he resided till he had taken his -M. A.’s degree. He understood Greek and Latin well, and had a true taste -of the best writers in those languages. He was, besides, a polite, -well-bred man, and singularly attentive to the _manners_, in every -sense of the word, of his scholars. He had a warm sense of virtue and -religion, and enforced both with a natural and taking eloquence. How -happy, to have had such a man, first, for his school-master, and then -for his friend. - -[Sidenote: 1733] - -Under so good direction, he was thought fit for the University, and was -accordingly admitted in Emanuel College, in Cambridge, October 3, 1733, -but did not go to reside there till a year or two afterwards. - -In this college, he was happy in receiving the countenance, and in -being permitted to attend the Lectures, of that excellent Tutor, Mr. -Henry Hubbard, although he had been admitted under another person. - -[Sidenote: 1738-9] - -He took his B. A.’s degree in 1738-9. - -[Sidenote: 1742] - -He took his M. A.’s degree, and was elected fellow in 1742. - -Was ordained Deacon, 13th of June that year in St. Paul’s Cathedral, -London, by Dr. Jos. Butler, Bishop of Bristol and Dean of St. Paul’s, -on Letters Dimissory from Dr. Gooch, Bishop of Norwich. - -[Sidenote: 1744] - -Was ordained Priest, 20 May 1744 in the Chapel of Gonville and Caius -College, Cambridge, by the Bishop of Norwich, Dr. Gooch. - -[Sidenote: 1749] - -He took his B. D.’s degree in 1749. - -[Sidenote: 1750] - -He published the same year Remarks on Mr. Weston’s book on the -_Rejection of Heathen Miracles_, and his Commentary on Horace’s _Ars -Poetica_; which last book introduced him to the acquaintance of Mr. -Warburton, by whose recommendation to the Bishop of London, Dr. -Sherlock, he was appointed Whitehall Preacher in May 1750. - -[Sidenote: 1751] - -He published the Commentary on the Epistle to Augustus in 1751. - -[Sidenote: 1753] - -—the new edition of both Comments, with Dedication to Mr. Warburton, in -1753. - -[Sidenote: 1755] - -—the Dissertation on the Delicacy of Friendship in 1755. - -His Father died Nov. 27 this year, æt. 70. - -[Sidenote: 1757] - -He published the Remarks on Hume’s Natural History of Religion in 1757. - -Was instituted this year, Feb. 16, to the Rectory of Thurcaston, in the -County of Leicester, on the presentation of Emanuel College. - -[Sidenote: 1759] - -He published Moral and Political Dialogues 1759. - -[Sidenote: 1762] - -He had the Sine-cure Rectory of Folkton, near Bridlington, Yorkshire, -given him by the Lord Chancellor (Earl of Northington) on the -recommendation of Mr. Allen, of Prior Park, near Bath, November 2, 1762. - -He published the Letters on Chivalry and Romance this year. - -[Sidenote: 1763] - -—Dialogues on Foreign Travel in 1763. - -[Sidenote: 1764] - -And Letter to Dr. Leland of Dublin in 1764. - -[Sidenote: 1765] - -He was made Preacher of Lincoln’s Inn, on the recommendation of Mr. -Charles Yorke, &c. November 6, 1765. - -[Sidenote: 1767] - -Was collated to the Archdeaconry of Gloucester, on the death of Dr. -Geekie, by the Bishop, August 27, 1767. - -[Sidenote: 1768] - -Was appointed to open the Lecture of Bishop Warburton on Prophecy in -1768. - -He took the degree of D. D. at Cambridge Commencement this year. - -[Sidenote: 1772] - -He published the Sermons on Prophecy in 1772. - -[Sidenote: 1773] - -His Mother died Feb. 27, 1773, æt. 88. - -[Sidenote: 1775] - -He was consecrated Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry, the 12th of -February 1775. - -[Sidenote: 1776] - -He published the 1st Volume of Sermons preached at Lincoln’s Inn, 1776. - -And was made Preceptor to the Prince of Wales and his brother Prince -Frederick, the 5th of June the same year. - -Preached before the Lords, December 13, 1776, first Fast for the war. - -[Sidenote: 1779] - -He lost his old and best friend, Bishop Warburton, June 7th, 1779. - -[Sidenote: 1780] - -He published the 2d and 3d Volumes of Sermons in 1780. - -These three Volumes were published at the desire of the Bench of -Lincoln’s Inn. - -[Sidenote: 1781] - -He was elected Member of the Royal Society of Gottingen, January 11, -1781. - -The Bishop of Winchester [Dr. Thomas] died Tuesday, May 1, 1781. -Received a gracious letter from his Majesty the next morning, by a -special messenger from Windsor, with the offer of the See of Worcester, -in the room of Bishop North, to be translated to Winchester, and of the -Clerkship of the Closet, in the room of the late Bishop of Winchester. - -On his arrival at Hartlebury Castle in July that year, resolved to put -the Castle into complete order, and to build a Library, which was much -wanted. - -[Sidenote: 1782] - -The Library was finished in 1782 and furnished with a collection of -books, late Bishop Warburton’s, and ordered by his Will to be sold, and -the value given to the Infirmary at Gloucester - -[Sidenote: 1783] - -To these, other considerable additions have been since made. - -Archbishop Cornwallis died in 1783. - -Had the offer of the Archbishoprick from his Majesty, with many -gracious expressions, and pressed to accept it; but humbly begged leave -to decline it, as a charge not suited to his temper and talents, and -much too heavy for him to sustain, especially in these times. - -The King was pleased not to take offence at this freedom, and then to -enter with him into some confidential conversation on the subject. It -was offered to the Bishop of London, Dr. Lowth, and refused by him, as -was foreseen, on account of his ill health. It was then given to Dr. -Moore, Bishop of Bangor. - -[Sidenote: 1784] - -Added a considerable number of books to the new Library at Hartlebury -in 1784. - -[Sidenote: 1785] - -Confirmed Prince Edward [their Majesties’ 4th son] in the Chapel of -Windsor Castle, May 14th, 1785. - -Added more books to the Library this year. And put the last hand (at -least he thinks so) to the Bishop of Gloucester’s Life, to be prefixed -to the new edition of his works now in the press. - -Confirmed Princess Augusta [their Majesties’ second daughter] in the -Chapel of Windsor Castle, Dec. the 24th this year. - -Preached in the Chapel the next day (Christmas day) and administered -the Sacrament to their Majesties and the Princess Royal and Princess -Augusta. - -[Sidenote: 1786] - -Preached before the Lords the 30th of January 1786. - -His Majesty was pleased this year to bestow a prebend of Worcester -[vacant by the death of Dr. Young] on my Chaplain, Mr. Kilvert. - -Preached before their Majesties and Royal Family in the Chapel of -Windsor Castle, and administered the Sacrament to them, on Christmas -day 1786. - -[Sidenote: 1788] - -In the end of February this year, 1788, -was published in seven volumes 4to a complete edition of the works of -Bishop Warburton. The _Life_ is omitted for the present. - -March 13, 1788, a fine gold Medal was this day given me by his Majesty -at the Queen’s House. - -The King’s head on one side. The Reverse was taken from a Seal of -mine[1], which his Majesty chanced to see, and approved. - -The Die was cut by Mr. Burch, and the Medal designed for the annual -Prize-Dissertation on Theological Subjects in the University of -Gottingen. - -[Sidenote: July 12.] - -This summer the King came to Cheltenham to drink the waters, and -was attended by the Queen, the Princess Royal, and the Princesses -Augusta and Elizabeth. They arrived at Cheltenham in the evening of -Saturday July the 12th, and resided in a house of Earl Falconberg. -From Cheltenham they made excursions to several places in -Gloucestershire and Worcestershire, and were every where received -with joy by all ranks of people. - -[Sidenote: Aug. 2] - -On Saturday, August the second, They were pleased to visit Hartlebury, -at the distance of thirty-three miles, or more. The Duke of York -came from London to Cheltenham the day before, and was pleased to -come with them. They arrived at Hartlebury at half an hour past -eleven. Lord Courtoun, Mr. Digby (the Queen’s Vice-Chamberlain), Col. -Gwin (one of the King’s Equerries), the Countesses of Harcourt and -Courtoun, composed the suite. Their Majesties, after seeing the House, -breakfasted in the Library; and, when they had reposed themselves some -time, walked into the Garden, and took several turns on the Terrases, -especially the Green Terras in the Chapel Garden. Here they shewed -themselves to an immense croud of people, who flocked in from the -neighbourhood, and standing on the rising grounds in the Park, saw, and -were seen, to great advantage. The day being extremely bright, the shew -was agreeable and striking. About two o’clock, their Majesties, &c. -returned to Cheltenham. - -[Sidenote: Aug. 5.] - -On the Tuesday following, August the fifth, their Majesties, with the -three Princesses, arrived at 8 o’clock in the evening at the Bishop’s -Palace in Worcester, to attend the charitable meeting of the three -Quires of Worcester, Hereford, and Gloucester, for the benefit of the -widows and orphans of the poorer Clergy of those Dioceses; which had -been fixed, in consequence of the signification of the King’s intention -to honour that solemnity with his presence, for the 6th, 7th, and 8th -of that month. - -The next morning a little before 10 o’clock, the King was pleased -to receive the compliments of the Clergy. The Bishop, in the name -of himself, Dean and Chapter and Clergy of the Church and Diocese, -addressed the King in the Great Hall, in a short speech[2], to which -his Majesty was pleased to return a gracious answer. He had then the -honour to address the Queen in a few words, to which a gracious reply -was made; and they had all the honour to kiss the King’s and Queen’s -hand. - -Soon after 10, the Corporation, by their Recorder, the Earl of -Coventry, addressed and went through the same ceremony of kissing the -King’s hand. Then the King had a Levée in the Great Hall, which lasted -till 11, when their Majesties, &c. walked through the Court of the -Palace to the Cathedral, to attend divine Service and a Sermon. The -Apparitor General, 2 Sextons, 2 Virgers, and 8 Beadsmen, walked before -the King (as on great occasions they usually do before the Bishop); -the Lord in waiting (Earl of Oxford) on the King’s right hand, and the -Bishop in his lawn on the left. After the King, came the Queen and -Princesses, attended by the Countesses of Pembroke and Harcourt (Ladies -of the Bed-chamber), and the Countess of Courtown, and the rest of -their Suite. At the entrance of the Cathedral, their Majesties were -received by the Dean and Chapter in their Surplices and hoods, and -conducted to the foot of the stairs leading to their seat in a Gallery -prepared and richly furnished by the Stewards[3] for their use, at the -bottom of the Church near the West window. - -The same ceremony was observed the two following days, on which they -heard sacred music, but without prayers or a sermon. On the last day -Aug. 8th, the King was pleased to give £.200 to the charity: and in the -evening attended a concert in the College Hall for the benefit of the -Stewards. - -[Sidenote: Aug. 9] - -On Saturday morning, Aug. 9th, the King and Queen, &c. returned to -Cheltenham. - -During their Majesties’ stay at the Palace, they attended prayers in -the Chapel of the Palace every morning (except the first, when the -service was performed in the Church) which were read by the Bishop. - -The King at parting was pleased to put into my hands for the poor of -the City £.50, and the Queen £.50 more; which I desired the Mayor (Mr. -Davis) to see distributed amongst them in a proper manner. - -The King also left £.300 in my hands towards releasing the Debtors in -the County and City Jails. - -During the three days at Worcester, the concourse of people of all -ranks was immense, and the joy universal. The weather was uncommonly -fine. And no accident of any kind interrupted the mutual satisfaction, -which was given, and received, on this occasion. - -[Sidenote: Aug. 16] - -On Saturday, August 16, the King and Royal Family left Cheltenham, and -returned that evening to Windsor. - -[Sidenote: Nov. 1] - -In the beginning of November following, - -[Sidenote: 1789] - -[Sidenote: Feb. 28] - -the King was seized with that illness, which was so much lamented. -It continued till the end of February 1789, when his Majesty happily -recovered. - -[Sidenote: Mar. 15] - -Soon after I had his Majesty’s command to attend him at Kew; and on -March 15, I administered the Sacrament to his Majesty at Windsor in the -Chapel of the Castle, as also on Easter Sunday, April 12, - -[Sidenote: April 12] - -and preached both days. - -At the Sacrament of March 15, the King was attended only by three or -four of his Gentlemen: On Easter-day, the Queen, Princess Royal, and -Princesses Augusta and Elizabeth, with several Lords and Gentlemen and -Ladies of the Court, attended the King to the Chapel, and received the -Sacrament with him. - -[Sidenote: April 23] - -On April 23 [St. George’s Day] a public thanksgiving for the King’s -recovery was appointed. His Majesty, the Queen, and Royal Family, with -the two Houses of Parliament, &c. went in procession to St. Paul’s. The -Bishop of London preached. I was not well enough to be there. - -[Sidenote: 1790] - -[Sidenote: May 28] - -May 28, 1790, the Duke of Montagu died. He was a nobleman of singular -worth and virtue; of an exemplary life; and of the best principles -in Church and State. As Governor to the Prince of Wales and Prince -Frederick, he was very attentive to his charge, and executed that trust -with great propriety and dignity. The Preceptor was honoured with his -confidence: and there never was the least misunderstanding between -them; or so much as a difference of opinion as to the manner in which -the education of the Princes should be conducted. - -In October 1790, I had the honour to receive from the King the present -of two fine full-length pictures of his Majesty and the Queen, copied -from those at the Queen’s House, St. James’s Park, painted by the late -Mr. Gainsborough. - -These pictures are put up in the great Drawing-room at the Palace in -Worcester, and betwixt them, over the fire-place, is fixed an oval -tablet of white marble with the following Inscription in Gold Letters. - - “Hospes, - Imagines, quas contemplaris, - Augustorum Principum, - Georgii III, et Charlottæ Conjugis, - Rex ipse - Richardo Episcopo Vigorniensi - Donavit, - 1790.” - -[Sidenote: 1791] - -[Sidenote: Sept. 17] - -My younger Brother, Mr. Thomas Hurd, of Birmingham, died on Saturday, -Sept. 17, 1791. - -[Sidenote: 1792] - -[Sidenote: Dec. 6] - -My elder Brother, Mr. John Hurd, of Hatton, near Shifnal, died on -Thursday, December 6, 1792. - -[Sidenote: 1793] - -[Sidenote: March 20] - -My noble and honoured friend, the Earl of Mansfield, died March 20, -1793. - -[Sidenote: 1795] - -[Sidenote: Jan. 19] - -My old and much esteemed friend, Dr. Balguy, Prebendary and Archdeacon -of Winchester, died January 19, 1795. - -[Sidenote: Feb. 24] - -The Life of Bishop Warburton, which was sent to the press in Autumn -last, was not printed off till the end of January, nor published till -towards the end of February this year. - -[Sidenote: Dec. 1] - -Printed in the course of this year at the Kidderminster press a -Collection of Bishop Warburton’s Letters to me, to be published after -my death for the benefit of the Worcester Infirmary.—The edition -consisted of 250 Copies, 4to—was finished at the press in the -beginning of December. - -[Sidenote: 1796] - -[Sidenote: June 17 to 30] - -In the Summer of 1796 visited my Diocese in person, I have great reason -to suppose for the last time; being in the 77th year of my age—_fiat -voluntas Dei!_ - -[Sidenote: Sept. 1] - -Mrs. Stafford Smith, late Mrs. Warburton, died at Fladbury, September -1, 1796. - -[Sidenote: 1797] - -[Sidenote: April 5] - -Mr. Mason died at Aston, April 5, 1797. He was one of my oldest and -most respected friends. How few of this description now remain! - -[Sidenote: 1799] - -[Sidenote: Jan. 24] - -By God’s great mercy enter this day [24 Jan. 1799] into my 80th year. -Ps. xc. 10. But see, 1 Cor. xv. 22. Rom. viii. 18. 1 Pet. i. 3-5. Χάρις -τῷ Θεῷ ἐπὶ τῇ ἀνεκδιηγήτῳ αὐτοῦ δωρεᾷ. 2 Cor. ix. 15. - -[Sidenote: May 27 to June 14] - -It pleased God that I was able this Summer to confirm over all parts of -my Diocese. - -[Sidenote: 1800] - -[Sidenote: June 6 to 17] - -And to visit my Diocese in person once more in June 1800.—L. D. - -[Sidenote: 1801] - -[Sidenote: May 16] - -Lost my old and worthy friend Dr. Heberden, in the 91st or 92nd year of -his age, May 16, 1801. - -[Sidenote: 1802] - -[Sidenote: June 15] - -Consecrated, on Tuesday the 15th of June, 1802, the new Church and -Church-yard of Lower Eatington, near Shipston, in Warwickshire. - -[Sidenote: Aug. 5] - -My most deserving, unhappy, friend, Dr. William Arnald, died at -Leicester, August 5, 1802. - -[Sidenote: 1803] - -[Sidenote: May 31 to June 3] - -Visited my Diocese by Commission—Commissioners, Dr. Arnold, my -Chancellor, and Dr. Evans, Archdeacon. - -[Sidenote: 1804] - -[Sidenote: July 25] - -St. James’ day, July 25, 1804, held an Ordination in Hartlebury -Chapel—3 Deacons, 5 Priests—the last I can expect to undertake. - -[Sidenote: 1805] - -[Sidenote: - - March 27 - 28 - 29 -] - -Confirmations by the Bishop of Chester (Dr. Majendie.) - - March 27, Stratford. - 28, Bromsgrove. - 29, Hales Owen. - -[Sidenote: - - June 14 - 15 - 17 -] - -—by the Bishop of Hereford (Dr. Cornwall.) - - June 14, Worcester - 15, Pershore - 17, Kidderminster - -[Sidenote: 1806] - -Visited my Diocese this year by Commission— - - Commissioners, - The Chancellor and Archdeacon. - Warwick May 26. - Worcester 28. - Kidderminster 30. - Pershore 31. - -[Sidenote: 1807] - -[Sidenote: Sept. 26] - -1807, Sept. 26. The Prince of Wales visited Lady Downshire, at -Ombersley Court this month. I was too infirm to wait upon him either at -Ombersley or Worcester; but his Royal Highness was pleased to call at -Hartlebury, on Saturday the 26th of this month, attended by his brother -the Duke of Sussex, and Lord Lake, and staid with me above an hour. - -[Sidenote: 1808] - -1808, April 23. Granted a Commission to the Bishop of Chester, -(Dr. Majendie,) to consecrate the new Chapel and burying-ground at -Red-Ditch, in the parish of Tardebig; which was performed this day, -Thursday, April 21, 1808, the proper officers of the Court, and two of -my Chaplains attending. - - * * * * * - -To this short narrative (the last paragraph of which was written by the -Author only five weeks before his death) little more will be added. - -So late as the first Sunday in February before his death, though then -declining in health and strength, he was able to attend his Parish -Church, and to receive the Sacrament. Free from any painful or acute -disorder, he gradually became weaker, but his faculties continued -perfect. After a few days confinement to his bed, he expired in his -sleep, on Saturday morning, May 28, 1808; having completed four months -beyond his eighty-eighth year. He was buried in Hartlebury Church-yard, -according to his own directions. - -He had been Bishop of Worcester for almost twenty-seven years: a longer -period than any Bishop of that See since the Reformation. - - - - -GENERAL CONTENTS. - - - VOL. I. and II. - - CRITICAL WORKS. - - VOL. I. Q. Horatii Flacci Epistolae ad Pisones, et Augustum: _With - an English Commentary and Notes_. - - VOL. II. CRITICAL DISSERTATIONS. - - _On the Idea of Universal Poetry._ - _On the Provinces of Dramatic Poetry._ - _On Poetical Imitation._ - _On the Marks of Imitation._ - - - VOL. III. and IV. - - MORAL AND POLITICAL DIALOGUES. - - VOL. III. _On Sincerity in the Commerce of the World._ - _On Retirement._ - _On the Age of Queen Elizabeth._ - _On the Constitution of the English Government._ - - VOL. IV. _On the Constitution of the English Government._ - _On the Uses of Foreign Travel._ - _And_ - LETTERS _on Chivalry and Romance_. - - - VOL. V. VI. VII. and VIII. - - THEOLOGICAL WORKS. - - VOL. V. SERMONS _introductory to the study of the Prophecies_. - _With an Appendix;_ - _Containing an anonymous Letter to the Author of these - Sermons, and his Answer to it._ - - VOL. VI. SERMONS _preached at Lincoln’s Inn_. - - VOL. VII. SERMONS _preached at Lincoln’s Inn_. - - VOL. VIII. SERMONS _on public Occasions_. - CHARGES _to the Clergy_. - _And_ - _An Appendix;_ - _Containing Controversial Tracts on different subjects and - occasions._ - - - - - CRITICAL WORKS. - - VOL. I. - - - - - Q. HORATII FLACCI - - EPISTOLAE - - AD - - PISONES, - - ET - - AUGUSTUM: - - WITH AN ENGLISH - - COMMENTARY AND NOTES: - - TO WHICH ARE ADDED - - CRITICAL DISSERTATIONS. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - VOL. I. - - INTRODUCTION, - _On Epistolary Writing_. - - EPISTOLA AD PISONES: - _With an English Commentary and Notes_. - - EPISTOLA AD AUGUSTUM: - _With an English Commentary and Notes_. - - - VOL. II. - - DISSERTATION I. - _On the Idea of Universal Poetry._ - - DISSERTATION II. - _On the Provinces of Dramatic Poetry._ - - DISSERTATION III. - _On Poetical Imitation._ - - DISSERTATION IV. - _On the Marks of Imitation._ - - - - -CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. - - - INTRODUCTION, - _On Epistolary Writing_. 13 - - EPISTOLA AD PISONES: - _With an English Commentary and Notes_. 27 - - EPISTOLA AD AUGUSTUM: - _With an English Commentary and Notes_. 279 - - - - - TO - - SIR EDWARD LITTLETON, BART. - - -DEAR SIR, - -Having reviewed these Sheets with some care, I beg leave to put them -into your hands, as a testimony of the respect I bear you; and, for the -time that such things may have the fortune to live, as a monument of -our friendship. - -You see, by the turn of this address, you have nothing to fear from -that offensive adulation, which has so much dishonoured Letters. You -and I have lived together on other terms. And I should be ashamed to -offer you even such a trifle as this, in a manner that would give you a -right to think meanly of its author. - -Your extreme delicacy allows me to say nothing of my obligations, which -otherwise would demand my warmest acknowledgements. For your constant -favour has followed me in all ways, in which you could contrive to -express it. And indeed I have never known any man more sensible to the -good offices of his friends, and even to their good intentions, or -more disposed, by every proper method, to acknowledge them. But you -much over-rate the little services, which it has been in my power to -render to you. I had the honour to be intrusted with a part of your -education, and it was my duty to contribute all I could to the success -of it. But the task was easy and pleasant. I had only to cultivate that -good sense, and those generous virtues, which you brought with you to -the University, and which had already grown up to some maturity under -the care of a man, to whom we had both of us been extremely obliged; -and who possessed every talent of a perfect institutor of youth in -a degree, which, I believe, has been rarely found in any of that -profession, since the days of _Quinctilian_. - -I wish this small tribute of respect, in which I know how cordially -you join with me, could be any honour to the memory of an excellent -person[4], who loved us both, and was less known, in his life-time, -from that obscure situation to which the caprice of fortune oft -condemns the most accomplished characters, than his highest merit -deserved. - -It was to cherish and improve that taste of polite letters, which his -early care had instilled into you, that you required me to explain to -you the following exquisite piece of the best poet. I recollect with -pleasure how welcome this slight essay then was to you; and am secure -of the kind reception you will now give to it; improved, as I think -it is, in some respects, and presented to you in this public way.—I -was going to say, how much you benefited by this poet (the fittest of -all others, for the study of a gentleman) in your acquaintance with -his _moral_, as well as critical writings; and how successfully you -applied yourself to every other part of learning, which was thought -proper for you—But I remember my engagements with you, and will not -hazard your displeasure by saying too much. It is enough for me to add, -that I truly respect and honour you; and that, for the rest, I indulge -in those hopes, which every one, who knows you, entertains from the -excellence of your nature, from the hereditary honour of your family, -and from an education in which you have been trained to the study of -the best things. - - I am, - DEAR SIR, - Your most faithful and - most obedient Servant, - R. HURD. - - EMAN. COLL. CAMB. - June 21, 1757. - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - - -It is agreed on all hands, that the antients are our masters in the -_art_ of composition. Such of their writings, therefore, as deliver -instructions for the exercise of this _art_, must be of the highest -value. And, if any of them hath acquired a credit, in this respect, -superior to the rest, it is, perhaps, the _following work_: which the -learned have long since considered as a kind of _summary_ of the rules -of good writing; to be gotten by heart by every young student; and to -whose decisive authority the greatest masters in taste and composition -must finally submit. - -But the more unquestioned the credit of this poem is, the more it will -concern the public, that it be justly and accurately understood. The -writer of these sheets then believed it might be of use, if he took -some pains to clear the sense, connect the method, and ascertain the -scope and purpose, of this admired epistle. Others, he knew indeed, and -some of the first fame for critical learning, had been before him in -this attempt. Yet he did not find himself prevented by their labours; -in which, besides innumerable lesser faults, he, more especially, -observed two inveterate errors, of such a sort, as must needs perplex -the genius, and distress the learning of _any_ commentator. The _one_ -of these respects the SUBJECT; the other, the METHOD of the _Art of -poetry_. It will be necessary to say something upon each. - -1. That the _Art of poetry_, at large, is not the _proper_ subject -of this piece, is so apparent, that it hath not escaped the dullest -and least attentive of its critics. For, however all the different -_kinds_ of poetry might appear to enter into it, yet every one saw, -that _some_ at least were very slightly considered: whence the frequent -attempts, the _artes et institutiones poeticæ_, of writers both at -home and abroad, to supply its deficiencies. But, though this truth -was seen and confessed, it unluckily happened, that the sagacity of -his numerous commentators went no further. They still considered this -famous epistle as a _collection_, though not a _system_, of criticisms -on poetry in general; with this concession however, that the stage -had evidently the largest share in it[5]. Under the influence of this -prejudice, several writers of name took upon them to comment and -explain it: and with the success, which was to be expected from so -fatal a mistake on setting out, as the not seeing, “that the proper and -sole purpose of the author, was, not to abridge the Greek critics, -whom he probably never thought of; nor to amuse himself with composing -a short critical system, for the general use of poets, which every line -of it absolutely confutes; but, simply to criticize the ROMAN DRAMA.” -For to this end, not the tenor of the work only, but, as will appear, -every single precept in it, ultimately refers. The mischiefs of this -original error have been long felt. It hath occasioned a constant -perplexity in defining the _general_ method, and in fixing the import -of _particular_ rules. Nay its effects have reached still further. -For, conceiving as they did, that the whole had been composed out of -the Greek critics, the labour and ingenuity of its interpreters have -been misemployed in picking out authorities, which were not wanted, -and in producing, or, more properly, by their studied refinements in -_creating_, conformities, which were never designed. Whence it hath -come to pass, that, instead of investigating the order of the poet’s -own reflexions, and scrutinizing the peculiar state of the Roman stage -(the methods, which common sense and common criticism would prescribe) -the world hath been nauseated with insipid lectures on _Aristotle_ and -_Phalereus_; whose solid sense hath been so attenuated and subtilized -by the delicate operation of French criticism, as hath even gone some -way towards bringing the _art_ itself into disrepute. - -2. But the wrong explications of this poem have arisen, not from the -misconception of the _subject_ only, but from an inattention to the -METHOD of it. The _latter_ was, in part, the genuin consequence of -the _former_. For, not suspecting an unity of design in the subject, -its interpreters never looked for, or could never find a consistency -of disposition in the method. And this was indeed the very block -upon which HEINSIUS, and, before him, _Julius Scaliger_, himself, -stumbled. These illustrious critics, with all the force of genius, -which is required to disembarrass an involved subject, and all the -aids of learning, that can lend a ray to enlighten a dark one, have, -notwithstanding, found themselves utterly unable to unfold the order of -this epistle; insomuch, that SCALIGER[6], hath boldly pronounced the -conduct of it to be _vicious_; and HEINSIUS, had no other way to evade -the charge, than by recurring to the forced and uncritical expedient -of a licentious transposition. The truth is, they were both in one -common error, That the poet’s purpose had been to write a criticism of -the art of poetry at large, and not, as is here shewn, of the Roman -drama in particular. But there is something more to be observed, in -the case of HEINSIUS. For, as will be made appear in the notes on -particular places, this critic did not pervert the order of the piece, -from a simple mistake about the drift of the subject, but, also, from a -total inapprehension of the genuin charm and beauty of the _epistolary -method_. And, because I take this to be a principal cause of the wrong -interpretations, that have been given of all the epistles of Horace; -and it is, in itself, a point of curious criticism, of which little or -nothing hath been said by any good writer, I will take the liberty to -enlarge upon it. - -THE EPISTLE, however various in its appearances, is, in fact, but of -_two_ kinds; _one_ of which may be called the DIDACTIC; the _other_, -the ELEGIAC epistle. By the FIRST I mean all those epistles, whose -end is to _instruct_; whether the subject be _morals_, _politics_, -_criticism_, or, in general, _human life_: by the LATTER, all those, -whose end is to _move_; whether the occasion be _love_, _friendship_, -_jealousy_, or other private distresses. If there are some of a lighter -kind in Horace, and other good writers, which seem not reducible to -either of these two classes, they are to be regarded only, as the -triflings of their pen, and deserve not to be considered, as making a -_third_ and distinct species of this poem. - -Now these two kinds of the _epistle_, as they differ widely from each -other in their _subject_ and _end_, so do they likewise in their -_original_: though both _flourished_ at the same time, and are both -wholly _Roman_. - -I. The former, or DIDACTIC epistle, was, in fact, the true and proper -offspring of the SATIRE. It will be worth while to reflect how this -happened. _Satire_, in its origin, I mean in the rude _fescennine -farce_, from which the idea of this poem was taken was a mere -extemporaneous jumble of mirth and ill-nature. ENNIUS, who had the -honour of introducing it under its new name, without doubt, civilized -both, yet left it without form or method; it being only, in his hands, -a rhapsody of poems on different subjects, and in different measures. -Common sense disclaiming the extravagance of this heterogeneous -mixture, LUCILIUS advanced it, in its next step, to an unity of -_design_ and _metre_; which was so considerable a change, that it -procured him the high appellation of INVENTOR of this poem. Though, -when I say, that Lucilius introduced into satire _an unity of metre_, I -mean only, in _the same piece_; for the measure, in different satires, -appears to have been different. That the _design_ in him was _one_, I -conclude, _first_, Because Horace expresly informs us, that _the form -or kind of writing_ in the satires of Lucilius was exactly the same -with _that_ in his own; in which no one will pretend, that there is -the least appearance of that rhapsodical, detached form, which made -the character of the _old satire_. But, _principally_, because, on -any other supposition, it does not appear, what could give Lucilius a -claim to that high appellation of INVENTOR of this poem. That he was -the _first_, who copied the manner of the _old comedy_ in satire, could -never be sufficient for this purpose. For all, that he derived into it -from thence, was, as Quinctilian speaks, _libertas atque inde acerbitas -et abunde salis_. It sharpened his _invective_, and polished his -_wit_, that is, it improved the _air_, but did not alter the _form_ -of the satire. As little can a right to this title be pleaded from -the _uniformity of measure_, which he introduced into it. For _this_, -without an _unity of design_, is so far from being an alteration for -the better, that it even heightens the absurdity; it being surely more -reasonable to adapt different measures to different subjects, than -to treat a number of inconnected and quite different subjects in the -_same_ measure. When therefore Horace tells us, that Lucilius was the -_Inventor_ of the satire, it must needs be understood, that he was the -FIRST, who, from its former confused state, reduced it into a regular -consistent poem, respecting one main _end_, as well as observing one -_measure_. Little now remained for HORACE but to polish and refine. His -only material alteration was, that he appropriated to the satire ONE, -that is, the heroic metre. - -From this short history of the satire we collect, 1. that its -design was _one_: And 2. we learn, what was the general form of its -composition. For, arising out of a loose, disjointed, miscellany, -its method, when most regular, would be free and unconstrained; -nature demanding some chain of connexion, and a respect to its origin -requiring that connexion to be slight and somewhat concealed. But its -_aim_, as well as origin, exacted this careless method. For being, as -Diomedes observes, _archææ comœdiæ charactere compositum_, “professedly -written after the manner of the old comedy,” it was of course to -admit the familiarity of the comic muse; whose genius is averse from -all constraint of _order_, save that only which a natural, successive -train of thinking unavoidably draws along with it. And this, by the -way, accounts for the dialogue air, so frequent in the Roman satire, -as likewise for the looser numbers which appeared so essential to the -grace of it. It was in learned allusion to this comic genius of the -satire, that Mr. Pope hath justly characterized it in the following -manner: - - “Horace still charms with graceful negligence, - “And, without method, TALKS us into sense.” - -2. It being now seen, what was the real form of the _satire_, nothing, -it is plain, was wanting, but the application of a particular -address, to constitute the _didactic epistle_: the structure of this -poem, as prescribed by the laws of nature and good sense, being in -nothing different from that of the _other_. For here 1. an _unity_ -of subject or design is indispensably necessary, the freedom of a -miscellaneous matter being permitted only to the familiar letter. And -2. not professing _formally_ to instruct (which alone justifies the -severity of strict method) but, when of the gravest kind, in the way of -address only to _insinuate_ instruction, it naturally takes an air of -negligence and inconnexion, such as we have before seen essential to -the satire. All which is greatly confirmed by the testimony of _one_, -who could not be uninformed in these matters. In addressing his friend -on the object of his studies, he says, - - _sive - Liventem_ satiram _nigra rubigine turpes, - Seu tua_ NON ALIA _splendescat_ epistola CURA. - [Stat. lib. i. Sylv. Tiburt. M. V.] - -plainly intimating, that the rules and labour of composition were -exactly the same in these two poems. Though the critics on Statius, -not apprehending this identity, or exact correspondence between the -_satire_ and _epistle_, have unnecessarily, and without warrant, -altered the text, in this place, from ALIA into ALTA. - -3. The general form and structure of _this_ epistle being thus clearly -understood, it will now be easy, in few words, to deduce the peculiar -laws of its composition. - -And 1. it cannot wholly divest itself of all method: For, having -only one point in view, it must of course pursue it by some kind of -connexion. The progress of the mind in rational thinking requires, that -the chain be never broken entirely, even in its freest excursions. - -2. As there must needs be a _connexion_, so _that connexion_ will best -answer its end and the purpose of the writer, which, whilst it leads, -by a sure train of thinking, to the conclusion in view, conceals itself -all the while, and leaves to the reader the satisfaction of supplying -the intermediate links, and joining together, in his own mind, what -is left in a seeming posture of neglect and inconnexion. The art of -furnishing this gratification, so respectful to the sagacity of the -reader, without putting him to the trouble of a painful investigation, -is what constitutes the supreme charm and beauty of EPISTOLARY METHOD. - -II. What hath hitherto been advanced respects chiefly the _didactic_ -form. It remains to say something of that other _species_ of the -epistle, the ELEGIAC; which, as I observed, had quite another -_original_. For this apparently sprung up from what is properly called -the _Elegy_: a poem of very antient Greek extraction: naturally arising -from the plaintive, querulous humour of mankind; which, under the -pressure of any grief, is impatient to break forth into wailings and -tender expostulations, and finds a kind of relief in indulging and -giving a loose to that flow of sorrow, which it hath not strength or -resolution wholly[7] to restrain. This is the account of the _Elegy_ -in its proper Greek form; a negligent, inconnected, abrupt species of -writing, perfectly suited to an indolent disposition and passionate -heart. Such was OVID’S; who, taking advantage of this character of the -elegy, contrived[8] a new kind of poetry, without the expence of much -invention, or labour to himself. For, collecting, as it were, those -scattered hints, which composed the elegy, and directing them to one -principal view; and superadding a personal address, he became the -author of what is here styled the _Elegiac_ epistle; beautiful models -of which we have in his HEROIDES, and the _Epistles from_ PONTUS. -We see then the difference of _this_ from the _didactic_ form. They -have both one principal end and point in view. But the _Didactic_, -being of a cooler and more sedate turn, pursues its design uniformly -and connects easily. The _Elegiac_, on the contrary, whose end is -_emotion_, not _instruction_, hath all the abruptness of irregular -disordered passion. It catches at remote and distant hints, and starts -at once into a digressive train of thinking, which it requires some -degree of enthusiasm in the reader to follow. - -Further than this it is not material to my present design to pursue -this subject. More exact ideas of the form and constitution of this -epistle, must be sought in that best example of it, the natural Roman -poet. It may only be observed of the different qualities, necessary to -those, who aspire to excel in these _two_ species: that, as the _one_ -would make an impression on the _heart_, it can only do this by means -of an exquisite _sensibility of nature and elegance of mind_; and that -the _other_, attempting in the most inoffensive manner, to inform -the _head_, must demand, to the full accomplishment of its purpose, -_superior good sense_, _the widest knowledge of life_, and, above all, -_the politeness of a consummate address_. That the _former_ was the -characteristic of OVID’S genius hath been observed, and is well known. -How far the _latter_ description agrees to HORACE can be no secret to -those of his readers who have any share, or conception of these talents -themselves. But matters of this _nicer_ kind are properly the objects, -not of _criticism_, but of _sentiment_. Let it suffice then to examine -the poet’s practice, so far only, as we are enabled to judge of it by -the standard of the preceding rules. - -III. These rules are reducible to _three_. 1. _that there be an unity -in the subject_. 2. _a connexion in the method_: and 3. _that such -connexion be easy_. All which I suppose to have been religiously -observed in the poet’s conduct of _this_, _i. e._ the _didactic_ -epistle. For, - -1. The _subject_ of each epistle is one: that is, one single point is -prosecuted through the whole piece, notwithstanding that the address -of the poet, and the delicacy of the subject may sometimes lead him -through a devious tract to it. Had his interpreters attended to this -practice, so consonant to the rule of nature before explained, they -could never have found _an art of poetry_ in the epistle, we are about -to examine. - -2. This one point, however it hath not been seen[9], is constantly -pursued by an uniform, consistent _method_; which is never more -artificial, than when least apparent to a careless, inattentive reader. -This should have stimulated his learned critics to seek the connexion -of the poet’s own ideas, when they magisterially set themselves to -transpose or vilify his method. - -3. This method is every where sufficiently _clear and obvious_; -proceeding if not in the strictest forms of _disposition_, yet, in an -easy, elegant progress, one hint arising out of another, and insensibly -giving occasion to succeeding ones, just as the cooler genius of this -_kind_ required. This, lastly, should have prevented those, who have -taken upon themselves to criticize _the art of poetry_ by the laws of -_this_ poem, from concealing their ignorance of its real views under -the cover of such abrupt and violent transitions, as might better agree -to the impassioned _elegy_, than to the sedate _didactic epistle_. - -To set this three-fold character, in the fullest light, before the view -of the reader, I have attempted to explain the _Epistle to the Pisos_, -in the way of continued commentary upon it. And that the coherence of -the several parts may be the more distinctly seen, the Commentary is -rendered as concise as possible; some of the finer and less obvious -connexions being more carefully observed and drawn out in the notes. - -For the _kind_ of interpretation itself, it must be allowed, of all -others, the fittest to throw light upon a difficult and obscure -subject, and, above all, to convey an exact idea of the scope and order -of any work. It hath, accordingly, been so considered by several of the -foreign, particularly the ITALIAN, critics; who have essayed long since -to illustrate, in this way, the very piece before us. But the _success_ -of these foreigners is, I am sensible, a slender recommendation of -their _method_. I chuse therefore to rest on the _single_ authority of -a great author, who, in his _edition_ of our English Horace, the _best_ -that ever was given of any classic, hath now retrieved and established -the full credit of it. What was the amusement of his pen, becomes -indeed, the _labour_ of inferior writers. Yet, on these unequal terms, -it can be no discredit to have aimed at some resemblance of one of the -least of those _merits_, which shed their united honours on the name of -the illustrious _friend_ and _commentator of_ Mr. POPE. - - - - -Q. HORATII FLACCI - -ARS POETICA - -EPISTOLA AD PISONES. - - - Humano capiti cervicem pictor equinam - Jungere si velit, et varias inducere plumas - Undique collatis membris, ut turpiter atrum - Desinat in piscem mulier formosa superne; - Spectatum admissi risum teneatis amici? 5 - Credite, Pisones, isti tabulae fore librum - Persimilem, cujus, velut aegri somnia, vanae - Fingentur species; ut nec pes, nec caput uni - Reddatur formae. Pictoribus atque poetis - Quidlibet audendi semper fuit aequa potestas: 10 - Scimus, et hanc veniam petimusque damusque vicissim: - Sed non ut placidis coëant inmitia; non ut - Serpentes avibus geminentur, tigribus agni. - Inceptis gravibus plerumque et magna professis - Purpureus, late qui splendeat, unus et alter 15 - Adsuitur pannus: cum lucus, et ara Dianae, - Et properantis aquae per amoenos ambitus agros, - Aut flumen Rhenum, aut pluvius describitur arcus. - Sed nunc non erat his locus: et fortasse cupressum - Scis simulare: quid hoc, si fractis enatat exspes 20 - Navibus, aere dato qui pingitur? amphora coepit - Institui, currente rota, cur urceus exit? - Denique sit quidvis; simplex dumtaxat et unum. - Maxima pars vatum, pater et juvenes patre digni, - Decipimur specie recti. Brevis esse laboro, 25 - Obscurus fio: sectantem lenia nervi - Deficiunt animique: professus grandia turget: - Serpit humi tutus nimium timidusque procellae: - Qui variare cupit rem prodigialiter unam, - Delphinum silvis adpingit, fluctibus aprum. 30 - In vitium ducit culpae fuga, si caret arte. - Aemilium circa ludum faber, unus et unguis - Exprimet, et mollis imitabitur aere capillos; - Infelix operis, summa: quia ponere totum - Nesciet. hunc ego me, si quid componere curem, 35 - Non magis esse velim; quam naso vivere pravo, - Spectandum nigris oculis nigroque capillo. - Sumite materiam vestris, qui scribitis, aequam - Viribus; et versate diu, quid ferre recusent, - Quid valeant humeri. cui lecta potenter erit res, 40 - Nec facundia deseret hunc, nec lucides ordo. - Ordinis haec virtus erit et venus, aut ego fallor; - Ut jam nunc dicat, jam nunc debentia dici - Pleraque differat et praesens in tempus omittat. - Hoc amet, hoc spernat, promissi carminis auctor. 45 - In verbis etiam tenuis cautusque serendis; - Dixeris egregie, notum si callida verbum - Reddiderit junctura novum; si forte necesse est - Indiciis monstrare recentibus abdita rerum; - Fingere cinctutis non exaudita Cethegis 50 - Continget: dabiturque licentia sumta pudenter. - Et nova factaque nuper habebunt verba fidem; si - Graeco fonte cadent, parce detorta, quid autem: - Caecilio Plautoque dabit Romanus, ademtum - Virgilio Varioque? ego cur adquirere pauca, 55 - Si possum, invideor? quum lingua Catonis et Enni - Sermonem patrium ditaverit, et nova rerum - Nomina protulerit. licuit, semperque licebit - Signatum praesente nota procudere nummum. - Ut silvis folia privos mutantur in annos; 60 - Prima cadunt: ita verborum vetus interit aetas, - Et juvenum ritu florent modo nata vigentque. - Debemur morti nos, nostraque: sive receptus - Terra Neptunus classis Aquilonibus arcet, - Regis opus; sterilisve palus prius aptaque remis 65 - Vicinas urbis alit, et grave sentit aratrum: - Seu cursum mutavit iniquum frugibus amnis, - Doctus iter melius: mortalia cuncta peribunt: - Nedum sermonum stet honos, et gratia vivax. - Multa renascentur, quae jam cecidere; cadentque, 70 - Quae nunc sunt in honore vocabula: si volet usus, - Quem penes arbitrium est, et jus, et norma loquendi. - Res gestae regumque ducumque, et tristia bella, - Quo scribi possent numero, monstravit Homerus. - Versibus inpariter junctis querimonia primum, 75 - Post etiam inclusa est voti sententia compos. - Quis tamen exiguos elegos emiserit auctor, - Grammatici certant, et adhuc sub judice lis est. - Archilochum proprio rabies armavit iambo. - Hunc socci cepere pedem grandesque cothurni, 80 - Alternis aptum sermonibus, et popularis - Vincentem strepitus, et natum rebus agendis. - Musa dedit fidibus Divos, puerosque Deorum, - Et pugilem victorem, et equum certamine primum, - Et juvenum curas, et libera vina referre. 85 - Descriptas servare vices operumque colores, - Cur ego, si nequeo ignoroque, poeta salutor? - Cur nescire, pudens prave, quam discere malo? - Versibus exponi tragicis res comica non volt: - Indignatur item privatis ac prope socco 90 - Dignis carminibus narrari coena Thyestae. - Singula quaeque locum teneant sortita decentem. - Interdum tamen et vocem comoedia tollit, - Iratusque Chremes tumido dilitigat ore. - Et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri. 95 - Telephus aut Peleus, cum pauper et exul uterque, - Projicit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba, - Si curat cor spectantis tetigisse querela. - Non satis est pulchra esse poëmata; dulcia sunto, - Et quocunque volent, animum auditoris agunto. 100 - Ut ridentibus adrident, ita flentibus adflent - Humani voltus. si vis me flere, dolendum est - Primum ipsi tibi: tunc tua me infortunia laedent. - Telephe, vel Peleu, male si mandata loqueris, - Aut dormitabo, aut ridebo. tristia moestum 105 - Voltum verba decent; iratum, plena minarum; - Ludentem, lasciva; severum, seria dictu. - Format enim Natura prius nos intus ad omnem - Fortunarum habitum; juvat, aut inpellit ad iram, - Aut ad humum moerore gravi deducit, et angit: 110 - Post effert animi motus interprete lingua. - Si dicentis erunt fortunis absona dicta, - Romani tollent equitesque patresque cachinnum. - Intererit multum, Divusne loquatur, an heros; - Maturusne senex, an adhuc florente juventa 115 - Fervidus; et matrona potens, an sedula nutrix; - Mercatorne vagus, cultorne virentis agelli; - Colchus, an Assyrius; Thebis nutritus, an Argis. - Aut famam sequere, aut sibi convenientia finge, - Scriptor. Homereum si forte reponis Achillem; 120 - Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer, - Jura neget sibi nata, nihil non arroget armis. - Sit Medea ferox invictaque, flebilis Ino, - Perfidus Ixion, Io vaga, tristis Orestes. - Si quid inexpertum scenae conmittis, et audes 125 - Personam formare novam; servetur ad imum - Qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi constet. - Difficile est proprie communia dicere: tuque - Rectius Iliacum carmen deducis in actus, - Quàm si proferres ignota indictaque primus. 130 - Publica materies privati juris erit, si - Non circa vilem patulumque moraberis orbem; - Nec verbum verbo curabis reddere fidus - Interpres; nec desilies imitator in artum, - Unde pedem proferre pudor vetet aut operis lex. 135 - Nec sic incipies, ut scriptor cyclicus olim: - FORTUNAM PRIAMI CANTABO, ET NOBILE BELLUM. - Quid dignum tanto feret hic promissor hiatu? - Parturiunt montes: nascetur ridiculus mus. - Quanto rectius hic, qui nîl molitur inepte! 140 - DIC MIHI, MUSA, VIRUM, CAPTAE POST MOENIA TROJAE, - QUI MORES HOMINUM MULTORUM VIDIT ET URBIS. - Non fumum ex fulgore, sed ex fumo dare lucem - Cogitat, ut speciosa dehinc miracula promat, - Antiphaten, Scyllamque, et cum Cyclope Charybdin. 145 - Nec reditum Diomedis ab interitu Meleagri, - Nec gemino bellum Trojanum orditur ab ovo: - Semper ad eventum festinat; et in medias res, - Non secus ac notas, auditorem rapit; et quae - Desperat tractata nitescere posse, relinquit: 150 - Atque ita mentitur, sic veris falsa remiscet, - Primo ne medium, medio ne discrepet imum. - Tu, quid ego et populus mecum desideret, audi; - Si fautoris eges aulaea manentis, et usque - Sessuri, donec cantor, Vos plaudite, dicat: 155 - Aetatis cujusque notandi sunt tibi mores, - Mobilibusque decor naturis dandus et annis. - Reddere qui voces jam scit puer, et pede certo - Signat humum; gestit paribus colludere, et iram - Colligit ac ponit temere, et mutatur in horas. 160 - Inberbus juvenis, tandem custode remoto, - Gaudet equis canibusque et aprici gramine campi; - Cereus in vitium flecti, monitoribus asper, - Utilium tardus provisor, prodigus aeris, - Sublimis, cupidusque, et amata relinquere pernix. 165 - Conversis studiis, aetas animusque virilis - Quaerit opes et amicitias, inservit honori; - Conmisisse cavet quod mox mutare laboret. - Multa senem circumveniunt incommoda; vel quod - Quaerit, et inventis miser abstinet, ac timet uti; 170 - Vel quòd res omnis timide gelideque ministrat, - Dilator, spe lentus, iners, pavidusque futuri; - Difficilis, querulus, laudator temporis acti - Se puero, castigator, censorque minorum. - Multa ferunt anni venientes commoda secum, 175 - Multa recedentes adimunt: ne forte seniles - Mandentur juveni partes, pueroque viriles. - Semper in adjunctis aevoque morabimur aptis. - Aut agitur res in scenis, aut acta refertur: - Segnius inritant animos demissa per aurem, 180 - Quam quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus, et quae - Ipse sibi tradit spectator. non tamen intus - Digna geri promes in scenam: multaque tolles - Ex oculis, quae mox narret facundia praesens: - Ne pueros coram populo Medea trucidet; 185 - Aut humana palam coquat exta nefarius Atreus; - Aut in avem Procne vertatur, Cadmus in anguem. - Quodcunque ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odi. - Neve minor, neu sit quinto productior actu - Fabula, quae posci volt, et spectata reponi. 190 - Nec Deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus - Inciderit: nec quarta loqui persona laboret. - Actoris partes chorus, officiumque virile - Defendat: neu quid medios intercinat actus, - Quod non proposito conducat et haereat apte. 195 - Ille bonis faveatque et consilietur amice, - Et regat iratos, et amet pacare tumentis: - Ille dapes laudet mensae brevis, ille salubrem - Justitiam, legesque, et apertis otia portis: - Ille tegat conmissa; Deosque precetur et oret, 200 - Ut redeat miseris, abeat fortuna superbis. - Tibia non, ut nunc, orichalco juncta, tubaeque - Aemula; sed tenuis, simplexque foramine pauco, - Aspirare et adesse choris erat utilis, atque - Nondum spissa nimis conplere sedilia flatu: 205 - Quo sane populus numerabilis, utpote parvus - Et frugi castusque verecundusque coibat. - Postquam coepit agros extendere victor, et urbem - Laxior amplecti murus, vinoque diurno - Placari Genius festis inpune diebus; 210 - Accessit numerisque modisque licentia major. - Indoctus quid enim saperet liberque laborum, - Rusticus urbano confusus, turpis honesto? - Sic priscae motumque et luxuriem addidit arti - Tibicen, traxitque vagus per pulpita vestem: 215 - Sic etiam fidibus voces crevere severis, - Et tulit eloquium insolitum facundia praeceps; - Utiliumque sagax rerum, et divina futuri, - Sortilegis non discrepuit sententia Delphis. - Carmine qui tragico vilem certavit ob hircum, 220 - Mox etiam agrestis Satyros nudavit, et asper - Incolumi gravitate jocum tentavit: eo quod - Inlecebris erat et grata novitate morandus - Spectator functusque sacris, et potus, et exlex. - Verum ita risores, ita commendare dicacis 225 - Conveniet Satyros, ita vertere seria ludo; - Ne quicunque Deus, quicunque adhibebitur heros - Regali conspectus in auro nuper et ostro, - Migret in obscuras humili sermone tabernas: - Aut, dum vitat humum, nubes et inania captet. 230 - Effutire levis indigna tragoedia versus, - Ut festis matrona moveri jussa diebus, - Intererit Satyris paulum pudibunda protervis. - Non ego inornata et dominantia nomina solum - Verbaque, Pisones, Satyrorum scriptor amabo: 235 - Nec sic enitar tragico differre colori; - Ut nihil intersit, Davusne loquatur et audax - Pythias emuncto lucrata Simone talentum; - An custos famulusque Dei Silenus alumni. - Ex noto fictum carmen sequar: ut sibi quivis 240 - Speret idem; sudet multum, frustraque laboret - Ausus idem: tantum series juncturaque pollet: - Tantum de medio sumtis accedit honoris. - Silvis deducti caveant, me judice, Fauni, - Ne velut innati triviis, ac pene forenses, 245 - Aut nimium teneris juvenentur versibus umquam, - Aut inmunda crepent ignominiosaque dicta. - Offenduntur enim, quibus est equus, et pater, et res; - Nec, si quid fricti ciceris probat et nucis emtor, - Aequis accipiunt animis, donantve corona. 250 - Syllaba longa brevi subjecta, vocatur Iambus, - Pes citus: unde etiam Trimetris adcrescere jussit - Nomen Iambeis, cum senos redderet ictus - Primus ad extremum similis sibi: non ita pridem, - Tardior ut paulo graviorque veniret ad auris, 255 - Spondeos stabilis in jura paterna recepit - Commodus et patiens: non ut de sede secunda - Cederet, aut quarta socialiter. Hic et in Accî - Nobilibus Trimetris apparet rarus, et Ennî. - In scenam missus cum magno pondere versus, 260 - Aut operae celeris nimium curaque carentis, - Aut ignoratae premit artis crimine turpi. - Non quivis videt immodulata poëmata judex: - Et data Romanis venia est indigna poetis. - Idcircone vager, scribamque licenter? ut omnis 265 - Visuros peccata putem mea; tutas et intra - Spem veniae cautus? vitavi denique culpam, - Non laudem merui. Vos exemplaria Graeca - Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna. - At vestri proavi Plautinos et numeros et 270 - Laudavere sales; nimium patienter utrumque - (Ne dicam stulte) mirati: si modo ego et vos - Scimus inurbanum lepido seponere dicto, - Legitimumque sonum digitis callemus et aure. - Ignotum tragicae genus invenisse Camenae 275 - Dicitur, et plaustris vexisse poëmata Thespis - Qui canerent agerentque, peruncti faecibus ora. - Post hunc personae pallaeque repertor honestae - Aeschylos et modicis instravit pulpita tignis, - Et docuit magnumque loqui, nitique cothurno. 280 - Successit vetus his Comoedia, non sine multa - Laude: sed in vitium libertas excidit, et vim - Dignam lege regi: lex est accepta; chorusque - Turpiter obticuit, sublato jure nocendi. - Nil intentatum nostri liquere poëtae: 285 - Nec minimum meruere decus, vestigia Graeca - Ausi deserere, et celebrare domestica facta, - Vel qui Praetextas, vel qui docuere Togatas. - Nec virtute foret clarisve potentius armis, - Quam lingua, Latium; si non offenderet unum- 290 - Quemque poëtarum limae labor et mora. Vos, ô - Pompilius sanguis, carmen reprehendite, quod non - Multa dies et multa litura coërcuit, atque - Praesectum decies non castigavit ad unguem. - Ingenium misera quia fortunatius arte 295 - Credit, et excludit sanos Helicone poëtas - Democritus; bona pars non unguis ponere curat, - Non barbam: secreta petit loca, balnea vitat. - Nanciscetur enim pretium nomenque poëtae, - Si tribus Anticyris caput insanabile numquam 300 - Tonsori Licino conmiserit. O ego laevus, - Qui purgor bilem sub verni temporis horam? - Non alius faceret meliora poëmata: verum - Nil tanti est. ergo fungar vice cotis, acutum - Reddere quae ferrum valet, exsors ipsa secandi. 305 - Munus et officium, nil scribens ipse, docebo; - Unde parentur opes: quid alat formetque poëtam; - Quid deceat, quid non; quo virtus, quo ferat error. - Scribendi recte, sapere est et principium et fons. - Rem tibi Socraticae poterunt ostendere chartae: 310 - Verbaque provisam rem non invita sequentur. - Qui didicit patriae quid debeat, et quid amicis; - Quo sit amore parens, quo frater amandus et hospes; - Quod sit conscripti, quod judicis officium; quae - Partes in bellum missi ducis; ille profecto 315 - Reddere personae scit convenientia cuique. - Respicere exemplar vitae morumque jubebo - Doctum imitatorem, et vivas hinc ducere voces. - Interdum speciosa locis, morataque recte - Fabula, nullius veneris, sine pondere et arte, 320 - Valdius oblectat populum, meliusque moratur, - Quam versus inopes rerum, nugaeque canorae. - Graiis ingenium, Graiis dedit ore rotundo - Musa loqui, praeter laudem, nullius avaris. - Romani pueri longis rationibus assem 325 - Discunt in partis centum diducere. Dicas - Filius Albini, si de quincunce remota est - Uncia, quid superet, poterat dixisse, triens? Eu! - Rem poteris servare tuam. Redit uncia: quid fit? - Semis. An haec animos aerugo et cura peculî 330 - Cum semel inbuerit, speramus carmina fingi - Posse linenda cedro, et levi servanda cupresso? - Aut prodesse volunt, aut delectare poëtae; - Aut simul et jocunda et idonea dicere vitae. - Quicquid praecipies, esto brevis: ut cito dicta 335 - Percipiant animi dociles, teneantque fideles. - [Omne supervacuum pleno de pectore manat.] - Ficta voluptatis causa sint proxima veris: - Ne, quodcumque volet, poscat sibi fabula credi; - Neu pransae Lamiae vivum puerum extrahat alvo. 340 - Centuriae seniorum agitant expertia frugis: - Celsi praetereunt austera poëmata Ramnes. - Omne tulit punctum, qui miscuit utile dulci, - Lectorem delectando, pariterque monendo. - Hic meret aera liber Sosiis, hic et mare transit, 345 - Et longum noto scriptori prorogat aevum. - Sunt delicta tamen, quibus ignovisse velimus: - Nam neque chorda sonum reddit, quem volt manus et mens; - Poscentique gravem persaepe remittit acutum: - Nee semper feriet, quodcumque minabitur, arcus. 350 - Verum ubi plura nitent in carmine, non ego paucis - Offendar maculis, quas aut incuria fudit, - Aut humana parum cavit natura. quid ergo est? - Ut scriptor si peccat idem librarius usque, - Quamvis est monitus, venia caret; ut citharoedus 355 - Ridetur, chorda qui semper oberrat eadem: - Sic mihi qui multum cessat, fit Choerilos ille, - Quem bis terve bonum, cum risu miror; et idem - Indignor, quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus. - Verum operi longo fas est obrepere somnum. 360 - Ut pictura, poësis: erit quae, si propius stes, - Te capiat magis; et quaedam, si longius abstes: - Haec amat obscurum; volet haec sub luce videri, - Judicis argutum quae non formidat acumen: - Haec placuit semel; haec decies repetita placebit. 365 - O major juvenum, quamvis et voce paterna - Fingeris ad rectum, et per te sapis; hoc tibi dictum - Tolle memor: certis medium et tolerabile rebus - Recte concedi: consultus juris, et actor - Causarum mediocris; abest virtute diserti 370 - Messallae, nec scit quantum Cascellius Aulus; - Sed tamen in pretio est: mediocribus esse poëtis - Non homines, non Dî, non concessere columnae. - Ut gratas inter mensas symphonia discors, - Et crassum unguentum, et Sardo cum melle papaver 375 - Offendunt; poterat duci quia coena sine istis: - Sic animis natum inventumque poëma juvandis, - Si paulum summo decessit, vergit ad imum. - Ludere qui nescit, campestribus abstinet armis; - Indoctusque pilae, discive, trochive, quiescit; 380 - Ne spissae risum tollant inpune coronae: - Qui nescit versus, tamen audet fingere. Quid nî? - Liber et ingenuus; praesertim census equestrem - Summam nummorum, vitioque remotus ab omni. - Tu nihil invita dices faciesve Minerva: 385 - Id tibi judicium est, ea mens, si quid tamen olim - Scripseris, in Maecî descendat judicis auris, - Et patris, et nostras; nonumque prematur in annum, - Membranis intus positis. Delere licebit - Quod non edideris: nescit vox missa reverti. 390 - Silvestris homines sacer interpresque Deorum - Caedibus et victu foedo deterruit Orpheus; - Dictus ob hoc lenire tigris rabidosque leones. - Dictus et Amphion, Thebanae conditor arcis, - Saxa movere sono testudinis, et prece blanda 395 - Ducere quo vellet. fuit haec sapientia quondam, - Publica privatis secernere, sacra profanis; - Concubitu prohibere vago; dare jura maritis; - Oppida moliri; leges incidere ligno. - Sic honor et nomen divinis vatibus atque 400 - Carminibus venit. post hos insignis Homerus - Tyrtaeusque mares animos in Martia bella - Versibus exacuit. dictae per carmina sortes, - Et vitae monstrata via est, et gratia regum - Pieriis tentata modis, ludusque repertus, 405 - Et longorum operum finis; ne forte pudori - Sit tibi Musa lyrae solers, et cantor Apollo. - Natura fieret laudabile carmen, an arte, - Quaesitum est. Ego nec studium sine divite vena, - Nec rude quid possit video ingenium: alterius sic 410 - Altera poscit opem res, et conjurat amice. - Qui studet optatam cursu contingere metam, - Multa tulit fecitque puer; sudavit et alsit; - Abstinuit venere et vino. qui Pythia cantat - Tibicen, didicit prius, extimuitque magistrum. 415 - Nec satis est dixisse, Ego mira poëmata pango: - Occupet extremum scabies: mihi turpe relinqui est, - Et, quod non didici, sane nescire fateri. - Ut praeco, ad merces turbam qui cogit emendas; - Adsentatores jubet ad lucrum ire poëta 420 - Dives agris, dives positis in foenore nummis. - Si vero est, unctum qui recte ponere possit, - Et spondere levi pro paupere, et eripere artis - Litibus inplicitum; mirabor, si sciet inter- - Noscere mendacem verumque beatus amicum. 425 - Tu seu donaris seu quid donare voles cui; - Nolito ad versus tibi factos ducere plenum - Laetitiae; clamabit enim, Pulchre, bene, recte! - Pallescet: super his etiam stillabit amicis - Ex oculis rorem; saliet; tundet pede terram. 430 - Ut qui conducti plorant in funere, dicunt - Et faciunt prope plura dolentibus ex animo: sic - Derisor vero plus laudatore movetur. - Reges dicuntur multis urguere culullis, - Et torquere mero quem perspexisse laborant 435 - An sit amicitia dignus. si carmina condes, - Nunquam te fallant animi sub volpe latentes. - Quintilio si quid recitares: Corrige sodes - Hoc, aiebat, et hoc. melius te posse negares, - Bis terque expertum frustra? delere jubebat, 440 - Et male ter natos incudi reddere versus. - Si defendere delictum, quam vertere, malles; - Nullum ultra verbum, aut operam insumebat inanem, - Quin sine rivali teque et tua solus amares. - Vir bonus et prudens versus reprehendet inertis; 445 - Culpabit duros; incomptis adlinet atrum - Transverso calamo signum; ambitiosa recidet - Ornamenta; parum claris lucem dare coget; - Arguet ambigue dictum; mutanda notabit; - Fiet Aristarchus; non dicet, Cur ego amicum 450 - Offendam in nugis? Hae nugae seria ducent - In mala derisum semel, exceptumque sinistre. - Ut mala quem scabies aut morbus regius urguet, - Aut fanaticus error, et iracunda Diana; - Vesanum tetigisse timent fugiuntque poëtam, 455 - Qui sapiunt: agitant pueri, incautique sequuntur. - Hic, dum sublimis versus ructatur, et errat, - Si veluti merulis intentus decidit auceps - In puteum, foveamve; licet, Succurrite, longum - Clamet, io cives: non sit qui tollere curet. 460 - Si curet quis opem ferre, et demittere funem; - Quî scis, an prudens huc se projecerit, atque - Servari nolit? dicam: Siculique poëtae - Narrabo interitum. Deus inmortalis haberi - Dum cupit Empedocles, ardentem frigidus Aetnam 465 - Insiluit. sit jus, liceatque perire poëtis. - Invitum qui servat, idem facit occidenti. - Nec semel hoc fecit; nec si retractus erit jam, - Fiet homo, et ponet famosae mortis amorem. - Nec satis adparet, cur versus factitet; utrum 470 - Minxerit in patrios cineres, an triste bidental - Moverit incestus: certe furit, ac velut ursus - Objectos caveae valuit si frangere clathros, - Indoctum doctumque fugat recitator acerbus. - Quem vero arripuit, tenet, occiditque legendo, 475 - Non missura cutem, nisi plena cruoris, hirudo. - - -COMMENTARY. - -The subject of this piece being, as I suppose, _one, viz. the state of -the Roman Drama_, and common sense requiring, even in the freest forms -of composition, some kind of _method_, the intelligent reader will not -be surprised to find the poet prosecuting his subject in a regular, -well-ordered _plan_; which, for the more exact description of it, I -distinguish into three parts: - -I. The first of them [from v. 1 to 89] is preparatory to the main -subject of the epistle, containing some general rules and reflexions on -poetry, but principally with an eye to the following parts: by which -means it serves as an useful introduction to the poet’s design, and -opens with that air of ease and negligence, essential to the epistolary -form. - -II. The main body of the epistle [from v. 89 to 295] is laid out in -regulating the _Roman_ stage; but chiefly in giving rules for tragedy; -not only as that was the sublimer species of the _Drama_, but, as it -should seem, less cultivated and understood. - -III. The last part [from v. 295 to the end] exhorts to correctness in -writing; yet still with an eye, principally, to the _dramatic species_; -and is taken up partly in removing the causes, that prevented it, and -partly in directing to the use of such means, as might serve to promote -it. Such is the general plan of the epistle. In order to enter fully -into it, it will be necessary to trace the poet, attentively, through -the elegant connexions of his own method. - - -PART I. - -GENERAL REFLEXIONS ON POETRY. - -The epistle begins [to v. 9] with that general and fundamental precept -_of preserving an unity in the subject and the disposition of the -piece_. This is further explained by defining the use, and fixing the -character of _poetic licence_ [from v. 9 to 13] which unskilful writers -often plead in defence of their transgressions against the law of -UNITY. To v. 23 is considered and exposed that particular violation of -_uniformity_, into which young poets especially, under the impulse of a -warm imagination, are apt to run, arising from frequent and ill-timed -descriptions. These, however beautiful in themselves, and with whatever -mastery they may be executed, yet, if foreign to the subject, and -incongruous to the place, where they stand, are extremely impertinent: -a caution, the more necessary, as the fault itself wears the appearance -of a _virtue_, and so writers [from v. 23 to 25] come to transgress the -_rule of right_ from their very ambition to observe it. There are two -cases, in which this _ambition_ remarkably misleads us. The _first_ -is when it tempts us to push an _acknowledged beauty_ too far. Great -beauties are always in the confines of great faults; and therefore, by -affecting superior excellence, we are easily carried into absurdity. -Thus [from v. 25 to 30] _brevity_ is often _obscurity_; _sublimity_, -_bombast_; _caution_, _coolness_; and, to come round to the point, a -fondness for _varying and diversifying a subject_, by means of episodes -and descriptions, such as are mentioned above [v. 15] will often betray -a writer into that capital error of violating the _unity_ of his piece. -For, though variety be a real excellence under the conduct of true -judgment, yet, when affected beyond the bounds of probability, and -brought in solely to _strike_ and _surprize_, it becomes unseasonable -and absurd. The several episodes or descriptions, intended to give that -variety, may be inserted in improper places; and then the absurdity is -as great, as that of the painter, who, according to the illustration of -v. 19, 20, should introduce a cypress into a sea-piece, or, according -to the illustration of the present verse, who paints a dolphin in a -wood, or a boar in the sea. - -2. Another instance, in which we are misled by an _ambition of -attaining to what is right_, is, when, through an excessive fear of -committing faults, we disqualify ourselves for the just execution of a -_whole_, or of such _particulars_, as are susceptible of real beauty. -For not the affectation of superior excellencies only, but even - - _In vitium ducit_ culpae fuga, _si caret arte_. - -This is aptly illustrated by the case of a sculptor. An over-scrupulous -diligence to finish single and trivial parts in a statue, which, when -most exact, are only not faulty, leaves him utterly incapable of doing -justice to the more important members, and, above all, of designing and -completing a _whole_ with any degree of perfection. But this latter -is commonly the defect of a minute genius; who, having taken in hand -a design, which he is by no means able to execute, naturally applies -himself to labour and finish those parts, which he finds are within -his power. It is of consequence therefore [from v. 38 to 40] for every -writer to be well acquainted with the nature and extent of his own -talents: and to be careful to chuse a subject, which is, in all its -parts, proportioned to his strength and ability. Besides, from such an -attentive survey of his subject, and of his capacity to treat it, he -will also derive these further advantages [v. 41] 1. That he cannot be -wanting in a proper fund of matter, wherewith to inlarge under every -head: nor, 2. can he fail, by such a well-weighed choice, to dispose of -his subject in the best and most convenient method. Especially, as to -the latter, which is the principal benefit, he will perceive [to v. 45] -where it will be useful to preserve, and where to change, the natural -order of his subject, as may best serve to answer the ends of poetry. - -Thus far some general reflexions concerning _poetical distribution_; -principally, as it may be affected by false notions, 1. Of _poetic -licence_ [v. 10] and, 2. Of _poetic perfection_ [v. 25]. But the same -causes will equally affect the _language_, as _method_, of poetry. To -these then are properly subjoined some directions about the _use of -words_. Now this particular depending so entirely on what is out of the -reach of rule, as the fashion of the age, the taste of the writer, and -his knowledge of the language, in which he writes, the poet only gives -directions about _new words_: or, since every language is necessarily -imperfect, about the _coining of such words_, as the writer’s necessity -or convenience may demand. And here, after having prescribed [l. 46] -a great _caution_ and _sparingness_ in the thing itself, he observes, -1. [to l. 49] That where it ought to be done, the better and less -offensive way will be, not to coin a _word_ entirely new (for this -is ever a task of some envy) but, by means of an ingenious and happy -position of a well-known word, in respect of some others, to give it a -new air, and cast. Or, if it be necessary to _coin new words_, as it -will be in subjects of an abstruse nature, and especially such, as were -never before treated in the language, that then, 2. [to l. 54] this -liberty is very allowable; but that the reception of them will be more -easy, if we derive them gently, and without too much violence, from -their proper source, that is, from a language, as the Greek, already -known, and approved. And, to obviate the prejudices of over-scrupulous -critics on this head, he goes on [from l. 54 to l. 73] in a vein of -popular illustration, to alledge, in favour of this liberty, the -examples of antient writers, and the vague, unsteady nature of language -itself. - -From these reflexions on poetry, at large, he proceeds now to -_particulars_: the most obvious of which being the different _forms -and measures_ of poetic composition, he considers, in this view [from -v. 75 to 86] the four great species of poetry, to which all others may -be reduced, _the Epic_, _Elegiac_, _Dramatic_, and _Lyric_. But the -distinction of the _measures_ to be observed in the several species -of poetry is so obvious, that there can scarcely be any mistake about -them. The difficulty is to know [from v. 86 to 89] how far, each may -partake of the _spirit_ of other, without destroying that _natural -and necessary difference_, which ought to subsist betwixt them all. -To explane this, which is a point of great nicety, he considers [from -v. 89 to 99] the case of dramatic poetry; the two species of which -are as distinct from each other, as any two can be, and yet there are -times, when the features of the one will be allowed to resemble those -of the other. For, 1. Comedy, in the passionate parts, will admit of -a tragic elevation: and, 2. Tragedy, in its soft distressful scenes, -condescends to the ease of familiar conversation. But the poet had a -further view in chusing this instance. For he gets by this means into -the main of his subject, which was dramatic poetry, and, by the most -delicate transition imaginable, proceeds [from l. 89 to 323] to deliver -a series of rules, interspersed with historical accounts, and enlivened -by digressions, for the regulation and improvement of the ROMAN STAGE. - - -PART II. - -DIRECTIONS FOR THE REGULATION AND IMPROVEMENT OF THE ROMAN STAGE. - -Having fixed the distinct limits and provinces of the two species of -the drama, the poet enters directly on his subject, and considers, I. -[from v. 99 to 119] the properties of the TRAGIC STYLE; which will -be different, 1. [to v. 111] according to the _internal state and -character_ of the speaker: thus one sort of expression will become the -_angry_; another, the _sorrowful_; this, the _gay_, that, the _severe_. -And, 2. [from v. 111 to 119] according to the outward circumstances of -_rank_, _age_, _office_, or _country_. - -II. Next [to v. 179] he treats of the CHARACTERS, which are of two -sorts. 1. _Old ones, revived_: and 2. _Invented, or new ones_. In -relation to the _first_ [from v. 119 to 125] the precept is, to _follow -fame_; that is, to fashion the character according to the _received, -standing idea_, which tradition and elder times have consecrated; that -idea being the sole test, whereby to judge of it. 2. In respect of the -_latter_ [from v. 125 to 128] the great requisite is _uniformity_, -or _consistency of representation_. But the formation of quite _new -characters_ is a work of great difficulty and hazard. For here, there -is no generally received and fixed _archetype_ to work after, but every -one judges, of common right, according to the extent and comprehension -of his own idea. Therefore [to v. 136] he advises to labour and -refit _old characters and subjects_; particularly those, made known -and authorized by the practice of Homer and the epic writers; and -directs, at the same time, by what means to avoid that _servility and -unoriginal air_, so often charged upon such pieces. I said _characters -and subjects_, for his method leading him to guard against servility -of imitation in point of _characters_, the poet chose to dispatch the -whole affair of _servile imitation_ at once, and therefore [to v. 136] -includes _subjects_, as well as _characters_. - -But this very advice, about taking the subjects and characters from -the epic poets, might be apt to lead into two faults, arising from -the ill conduct of those poets themselves. For, 1. [to v. 146] the -dignity and importance of a subject, made sacred by antient fame, -had sometimes occasioned a boastful and ostentatious beginning, than -which nothing can be more offensive. And, 2. The whole story being -composed of great and striking particulars, injudicious writers, for -fear of losing any part of it, which might serve to adorn their work, -had been led to follow the _round of plain historic order_, and so -had made the disposition of their piece _uninteresting and unartful_. -Now both these improprieties, which appear so shocking in the _epic -poem_, must needs, with still higher reason, deform the _tragic_. For, -taking its rise, not from the flattering views of the _poet_, but the -real situation of the _actor_, its opening must of necessity, be very -simple and unpretending. And being, from its short term of action, -unable naturally to prepare and bring about many events, it, of course, -confines itself to _one_; as also for the sake of producing a due -_distress_ in the plot; which can never be wrought up to any _trying_ -pitch, unless the whole attention be made to fix on _one_ single -object. The way to avoid both these faults, will be to observe (for -here the imitation cannot be too close) the well-judged practice of -Homer. - -Having thus considered the affair of _imitation_, and shewn how _old -characters_, and, to carry it still further, _old_ subjects, may be -successfully treated, he resumes the head of _characters_, and proceeds -more fully [from v. 153 to 179] to recommend it as a point of principal -concern in the drawing of them, to be well acquainted with the manners, -agreeing to the several successive periods and stages of human life. -And this with propriety: for, though he had given a hint to this -purpose before, - - _Maturusne senex, an adhuc florente juventâ - Fervidus_, - -yet, as it is a point of singular importance, and a regard to _it_, -besides other distinctions, must be constantly had in the draught of -every character, it well deserved a separate consideration. - -III. These instructions, which, in some degree, respect all kinds of -poetry, being dismissed; he now delivers some rules more peculiarly -relative to the case of the _drama_. And, as the _misapplication of -manners_, which was the point he had been considering, was destructive -of _probability_, this leads the poet, by a natural order, to censure -some other species of misconduct, which have the _same effect_. He -determines then, 1. [from v. 179 to 189] The case of _representation_ -and _recital_: or what it is, which renders some things more fit to be -_acted_ on the stage, others more fit to be _related_ on it. Next, 2. -In pursuance of the same point, _viz. probability_ [to v. 193] he -restrains the use of _machines_; and prescribes the number of _acts_, -and of _persons_, to be introduced on the stage at the same time. And, -3. lastly, the _persona dramatis_, just mentioned, suggesting it to -his thoughts, he takes occasion from thence to pass on to the _chorus_ -[from v. 193 to 202] whose double office it was, 1. To sustain the part -of a _persona dramatis_ in the acts; and, 2. To connect the _acts_ -with songs, persuading to good morals, and suitable to the subject. -Further, tragedy being, originally, nothing more than a _chorus_ or -song, set to music, from which practice the harmony of the regular -chorus in aftertimes had its rise, he takes occasion to digress [from -v. 202 to 220] in explaining the simplicity and barbarity of the -_old_, and the refinements of the _later_, music. The application of -this account of the dramatic music to the case of the tragic chorus, -together with a short glance at the other improvements of _numbers, -stile, &c._ necessarily connected with it, gives him the opportunity -of going off easily into a subject of near affinity with this, _viz._ -the _Roman satiric piece_; which was indeed a species of tragedy, but -of so extraordinary a composition, as to require a set of rules, and -instructions, peculiar to itself. A point, in which they agreed, but -which was greatly misunderstood or ill-observed by his countrymen, -was the kind of verse or measure employed in them. This therefore, -by a disposition of the most beautiful method, he reserves for a -consideration by itself, having, first of all, delivered such rules, -as seemed necessary about those points, in which they essentially -differed. He explains then [from v. 220 to 225] the _use and end_ of -the _satires_, shewing them to be designed for the exhilaration of the -rustic youth, on their solemn festivities, after the exhibition of -the graver, tragic shews. But, 2. To convert, as far as was possible, -what was thus a necessary sacrifice to the taste of the multitude into -a tolerable entertainment for the better sort, he lays down [from v. -225 to 240] the exactest description or idea of this sort of poem; by -means of which he instructs us in the due temperature and decorum of -the satyric style. 3. Lastly, [from v. 240 to 251] he directs to the -choice of proper subjects, and defines the just character of those -principal and so uncommon _personages_ in this drama, the _satyrs_ -themselves. This being premised, he considers, as was observed, what -belongs in common to this with the regular tragedy [from v. 251 to 275] -the laws and use of the _iambic_ foot; reproving, at the same time, -the indolence or ill-taste of the Roman writers in this respect, and -sending them for instruction to the Grecian models. - -Having introduced his critique on the _stage-music_, and _satyric -drama_, with some account of the rise and progress of _each_, the poet -very properly concludes this whole part [from v. 275 to 295] with a -short, incidental history of the principal improvements of the _Greek -tragedy and comedy_; which was artfully contrived to insinuate the -defective state of the Roman drama, and to admonish his countrymen, how -far they had gone, and what yet remained to complete it. And hence with -the advantage of the easiest transition he slides into the last part of -the epistle; the design of which, as hath been observed, was to reprove -an _incorrectness and want of care_ in the Roman writers. For, having -just observed their _defect_, he goes on, in the remaining part of the -epistle, to sum up the several causes, which seem to have produced it. -And this gives him the opportunity, under every head, of prescribing -the proper remedy for each, and of inserting such further rules and -precepts for good writing, as could not so properly come in before. The -whole is managed with singular address, as will appear from looking -over particulars. - - -PART III. - -A CARE AND DILIGENCE IN WRITING RECOMMENDED. - -I. [from l. 295 to l. 323] The poet ridicules that false notion, into -which the Romans had fallen, that _poetry_ and _possession_ were nearly -the same thing: that nothing more was required in a poet, than some -extravagant starts and sallies of thought; that coolness and reflexion -were inconsistent with his character, and that poetry was not to be -scanned by the rules of sober sense. This they carried so far, as to -affect the outward port and air of madness, and, upon the strength of -that appearance, to set up for wits and poets. In opposition to this -mistake, which was one great hindrance to critical correctness, he -asserts _wisdom and good sense to be the source and principle of good -writing_: for the attainment of which he prescribes, 1. [from v. 310 to -312] A careful study of the Socratic, that is, moral wisdom: and, 2. -[from v. 312 to 318] A thorough acquaintance with human nature, _that -great exemplar of manners_, as he finely calls it, or, in other words, -a wide extensive view of real, practical life. The joint direction -of these two, as means of acquiring moral knowledge, was perfectly -necessary. For the former, when alone, is apt to grow abstracted and -unaffecting: the latter, uninstructing and superficial. The philosopher -talks without experience, and the man of the world without principles. -United they supply each other’s defects; while the man of the world -borrows so much of the philosopher, as to be able to adjust the several -sentiments with precision and exactness; and the philosopher so much -of the man of the world as to copy the manners of life (which we can -only do by experience) with truth and spirit. Both together furnish a -thorough and complete comprehension of human life; which manifesting -itself in the _just_, and _affecting_, forms that exquisite degree of -perfection in the character of the dramatic poet; the want of which no -warmth of genius can atone for, or excuse. Nay such is the force of -this nice adjustment of _manners_ [from l. 319 to 323] that, where it -has remarkably prevailed, the success of a play hath sometimes been -secured by it, without one single excellence or recommendation besides. - -II. He shews [from l. 323 to 333] another cause of their incorrectness -and want of success, in any degree, answering to that of the Greek -writers, to have been the low and illiberal education of the Roman -youth; who, while the Greeks were taught to open all their mind to -glory, were cramped in their genius by the rust of gain, and, by the -early infusion of such sordid principles, became unable to project a -great design, or with any care and mastery to complete it. - -III. A third impediment to their success in poetry [from l. 333 to -346] was their inattention to the _entire_ scope and purpose of it, -while they contented themselves with the attainment of one only of -the two great ends, which are proposed by it. For the double design -of poetry being to _instruct_ and _please_, the full aim and glory -of the art cannot be attained without uniting them both: that is, -_instructing_ so as to _please_, and _pleasing_ so as to _instruct_. -Under either head of _instruction_ and _entertainment_ the poet, with -great address, insinuates the main art of each kind of writing, which -consists, 1. in _instructive_ or _didactic poetry_ [from v. 335 to 338] -in the _conciseness of the precept_: and, 2. in works of _fancy_ and -_entertainment_ [l. 338 to 341] in _probability of fiction_. But both -these [l. 341 to 347] must concur in a just piece. - -But here the bad poet objects the difficulty of the terms, imposed -upon him, and that, if the critic looked for all these requisites, and -exacted them with rigour, it would be impossible to satisfy him: at -least it was more likely to discourage, than quicken, as he proposed, -the diligence of writers. To this the reply is [from l. 347 to 360] -that he was not so severe, as to exact a faultless and perfect piece: -that some inaccuracies and faults of less moment would escape the most -cautious and guarded writer; and that, as he should contemn a piece, -that was generally bad, notwithstanding a few beauties, he could, on -the contrary, admire a work, that was generally good, notwithstanding a -few faults. Nay, he goes on [from l. 360 to 366] to observe in favour -of writers, against their too rigorous censurers, that what were often -called faults, were really not so: that some parts of a poem ought -to be less _shining_, or less _finished_, than others; according to -the light, they were placed in, or the distance, from which they -were viewed; and that, serving only to connect and lead to others of -greater consequence, it was sufficient if they pleased once, or did not -displease, provided that those others would please on every review. All -this is said agreeably to _nature_, which does not allow every part -of a subject, to be equally susceptible of ornament; and to the _end -of poetry_, which cannot so well be attained, without an inequality. -The allusions to painting, which the poet uses, give this truth the -happiest illustration. - -Having thus made all the reasonable allowances, which a writer could -expect, he goes on to inforce the general instruction of this part, -_viz. a diligence in writing_, by shewing [from l. 366 to 379] that -a _mediocrity_, however tolerable, or even commendable, it might be -in other arts, would never be allowed in this: for which he assigns -this very obvious and just reason; that, as the main end of poetry -is to _please_, if it did not reach that point (which it could not -do by stopping ever so little on this side excellence) it was, like -indifferent music, indifferent perfumes, or any other indifferent -thing, which we can do without, and whose end should be to please, -_offensive and disagreeable_, and for want of being very good, -absolutely and insufferably bad. This reflexion leads him with great -advantage [from l. 379 to 391] to the general conclusion in view, -_viz._ that as none but excellent poetry will be allowed, it should -be a warning to writers, how they engage in it without abilities; -or publish without severe and frequent correction. But to stimulate -the poet, who, notwithstanding the allowances already made, might be -something struck with this last reflexion, he flings out [from l. 391 -to 408] into a fine encomium, on the dignity and excellence of the art -itself, by recounting its ancient honours. This encomium, besides its -great usefulness in invigorating the mind of the poet, has this further -view, to recommend and revive, together with its honours, the office of -ancient poesy; which was employed about the noblest and most important -subjects; the sacred source, from whence those honours were derived. - -From this transient view of the several species of poetry, terminating, -as by a beautiful contrivance it is made to do, in the _Ode_, the -order of his ideas carries him into some reflexions on the power of -genius (which so essentially belongs to the lyric Muse) and to settle -thereby a point of criticism, much controverted among the ancients, -and on which a very considerable stress would apparently be laid. For, -if after all, so much art and care and caution be demanded in poetry, -what becomes of genius, in which alone it had been thought to consist? -would the critic insinuate, that good poems can be the sole effect of -art, and go so far, in opposition to the reigning prejudice, as to -assert nature to be of no force at all? This objection, which would be -apt to occur to the general scope and tenor of the epistle, as having -turned principally on _art_ and _rules_ without insisting much on -natural _energy_, the poet obviates at once [from v. 408 to 419] by -reconciling two things which were held, it seems, incompatible, and -demanding in the poet, besides the fire of real genius, all the labour -and discipline of art. But there is one thing still wanting. The poet -may be excellently formed by nature, and accomplished by art, but will -his own judgment be a sufficient guide, without assistance from others? -will not the partiality of an author for his own works sometimes -prevail over the united force of rules and genius, unless he call in -a fairer and less interested guide? Doubtless it will: and therefore -the poet, with the utmost propriety, adds [from v. 419 to 450] as a -necessary part of this instructive monition to his brother poets, some -directions concerning the choice of a prudent and sincere friend, -whose unbiassed sense might at all times correct the prejudices, -indiscretions, and oversights of the author. And to impress this -necessary care, with greater force, on the poet, he closes the whole -with shewing the dreadful consequences of being imposed upon in so nice -an affair; representing, in all the strength of colouring, the picture -of a bad poet, infatuated, to a degree of madness, by a fond conceit of -his own works, and exposed thereby (so important had been the service -of timely advice) to the contempt and scorn of the public. - -And now, an unity of design in this epistle, and the pertinent -connection of its several parts being, it is presumed, from this method -of illustration, clearly and indisputably shewn, what must we think -of the celebrated FRENCH interpreter of Horace, who, after a studied -translation of this piece, supported by a long, elaborate commentary, -minutely condescending to scrutinize each part, could yet perceive so -little of its true form and character, as to give it for his summary -judgment, in conclusion; “_Comme il_ [Horace] _ne travailloit pas à -cela de suite et qu’il ne gardoit d’autre ordre que celui des matieres -que le hazard lui donnoit à lire et à examiner, il est arrivé delà qu’_ -IL N’ Y A AUCUNE METHODE NI AUCUNE LIAISON DE PARTIES DANS CE TRAITÉ, -_qui même n’a jamais été achevé, Horace n’ ayant pas eu le tems d’y -mettre la derniere main, ou, ce qui est plus vraisemblable, n’ayant -pas voulu s’en donner la peine_.” [M. Dacier’s Introd. remarks to the -art of poetry.] The softest thing that can be said of such a critic, -is, that he well deserves the censure, he so justly applied to the -great Scaliger, S’IL L’AVOIT BIEN ENTENDU, IL LUI AUROIT RENDU PLUS DE -JUSTICE, ET EN AUROIT PARLÉ PLUS MODESTEMENT. - - - - -NOTES - -ON THE - -ART OF POETRY. - - -The text of this epistle is given from Dr. BENTLEY’S edition, except in -some few places, of which the reader is advertized in the notes. These, -that they might not break in too much on the thread of the Commentary, -are here printed by themselves. For the rest, let me apologize with a -great critic: _Nobis viri docti ignoscent, si hæc fusius: præsertim -si cogitent, veri critici esse, non literulam alibi ejicere, alibi -innocentem syllabam et quæ nunquàm male merita de patria fuerit, per -jocum et ludum trucidare et configere; verùm recte de autoribus et -rebus judicare, quod et solidæ et absolutæ eruditionis est._ HEINSIUS. - - * * * * * - -1. HUMANO CAPITI, &c.] It is seen, in the comment, with what elegance -this first part [to v. 89] is made preparatory to the main subject, -agreeably to the genius of the Epistle. But elegance, in good hands, -always implies _propriety_; as is the case here. For the critic’s -rules must be taken either, 1. from the _general_ standing laws of -composition; or, 2. from the peculiar ones, appropriated to the _kind_. -Now the direction to be fetched from the former of these sources will -of course _precede_, as well on account of its superior dignity, as -that the mind itself delights to descend from _universals_ to the -consideration of _particulars_. Agreeably to this rule of nature, the -poet, having to correct, in the Roman drama, these three points, 1. -a misconduct in the disposition; 2. an abuse of language; and 3. a -disregard of the peculiar characters and _colorings_ of its different -species, hath chosen to do this on principles of universal nature; -which, while they include the case of the drama, at the same time -extend to poetic composition at large. These prefatory, universal -observations being delivered, he then proceeds, with advantage, to the -_second_ source of his art, viz. the consideration of the laws and -rules peculiar to the _kind_. - - * * * * * - -9.—ICTORIBUS ATQUE POETIS—QUIDLIBET AUDENDI SEMPER FUIT AEQUA -POTESTAS.] The _modern_ painter and poet will observe that this -aphorism comes from the mouth of an objector. - - * * * * * - -14. INCEPTIS GRAVIBUS, &c.] These preparatory observations concerning -the laws of poetic composition at large have been thought to glance -more _particularly_ at the epic poetry: Which was not improper: For, 1. -The _drama_, which he was about to criticize, had its rise and origin -from the _epos_. Thus we are told by the great critic, that Homer was -the first who _invented dramatic imitations_, μόνος—ὅτι μιμήσεις -δραματικὰς ἐποίησε. And to the same purpose Plato: ἔοικε μὲν τῶν καλῶν -ἁπάντων τούτων τῶν τραγικῶν πρῶτος διδάσκαλος καὶ ἡγεμὼν γενέσθαι -[Ὅμηρος.] _De Rep._ l. x. Hence, as our noble critic observes, “There -was no more left for tragedy to do after him, than to erect a stage, -and draw his dialogues and characters into scenes; turning in the same -manner upon one principal action or event, with regard to place and -time, which was suitable to a real spectacle.” [_Characterist._ vol. i. -p. 198.] 2. The several censures, here pointed at the epic, would bear -still more directly against the tragic poem; it being more glaringly -inconsistent with the genius of the _drama_ to admit of foreign and -digressive ornaments, than of the extended, episodical _epopœia_. For -both these reasons it was altogether pertinent to the poet’s purpose, -in a criticism on the _drama_, to expose the vicious practice of the -_epic_ models. Though, to preserve the unity of his piece, and for the -reason before given in note on v. 1. he hath artfully done this under -the cover of _general_ criticism. - - * * * * * - -19. SED NUNC NON ERAT HIS LOCUS.] If one was to apply this observation -to our dramatic writings, I know of none which would afford pleasanter -instances of the absurdity, here exposed, than the famous ORPHAN of -Otway. Which, notwithstanding its real beauties, could hardly have -taken so prodigiously, as it hath done, on our stage, if there were not -somewhere a defect of _good taste_ as well as of _good morals_. - - * * * * * - -23. DENIQUE SIT QUIDVIS: SIMPLEX DUNTAXAT ET UNUM.] Is not it strange -that he, who delivered this rule in form, and, by his manner of -delivering it, appears to have laid the greatest stress upon it, should -be thought capable of paying no attention to it himself, in the conduct -of this epistle? - - * * * * * - -25-28. BREVIS ESSE LABORO, OBSCURUS FIO: SECTANTEM LENIA NERVI -DEFICIUNT ANIMIQUE: PROFESSUS GRANDIA TURGET: SERPIT HUMI TUTUS NIMIUM -TIMIDUSQUE PROCELLAE.] If these characters were to be exemplified in -our own poets, of reputation, the _first_, I suppose, might be justly -applied to Donne; the _second_, to Parnell; the _third_, to Thomson; -and the _fourth_, to Addison. As to the two following lines; - - _Qui variare cupit rem prodigialiter unam, - Delphinum silvis adpingit, fluctibus aprum_: - -they are applicable to so many of our poets, that, to keep the rest -in countenance, I will but just mention Shakespear himself; who, to -enrich his scene with that _variety_, which his exuberant genius so -largely supplied, hath deformed his best plays with these _prodigious_ -incongruities. - - * * * * * - -29. QUI VARIARE CUPIT REM PRODIGIALITER UNAM, &c.] Though I agree with -M. Dacier that _prodigialiter_ is here used in a good sense, yet the -word is so happily chosen by our _curious speaker_ as to carry the -mind to that fictitious monster, under which he had before allusively -shadowed out the idea of absurd and inconsistent composition, in v. 1. -The application, however, differs in this, that, whereas the monster, -there painted, was intended to expose the extravagance of putting -together _incongruous parts_, without any reference to a _whole_, this -_prodigy_ is designed to characterize a _whole_, but deformed by the -ill-judged _position_ of its _parts_. The former is like a monster, -whose several members, as of right belonging to different animals, -could, by no disposition, be made to constitute _one_ consistent -animal. The other, like a landskip, which hath no objects absolutely -_irrelative_, or irreducible to a _whole_, but which a wrong position -of the _parts_ only renders _prodigious_. Send the _boar to the woods_; -and the _dolphin to the waves_; and the painter might shew them both on -the same canvass. - -Each is a violation of the law of unity, and a real _monster_: the one, -because it contains an assemblage of naturally _incoherent parts_; -the other, because its parts, though in themselves _coherent_, are -_misplaced_, and disjointed. - - * * * * * - -34. INFELIX OPERIS SUMMA: QUIA PONERE TOTUM NESCIET.] This observation -is more particularly applicable to _dramatic_ poetry, than to any -other, an unity and integrity of action being of its very essence.—The -poet illustrates his observation very happily in the case of -_statuary_; but it holds of every other art, that hath a _whole_ for -its object. _Nicias_, the painter, used to say[10], “That the _subject_ -was to him, what the fable is to the poet.” Which is just the sentiment -of _Horace_, reversed. For by the _subject_ is meant the whole of the -painter’s plan, the _totum_, which it will be impossible for those to -express, who lay out their pains so solicitously in finishing single -parts. Thus, to take an obvious example, the landskip-painter is to -draw together, and form into _one_ entire view, certain beautiful, -or striking objects. This is his main care. It is not even essential -to the merit of his piece, to labour, with extreme exactness, the -_principal_ constituent parts. But for the rest, a _shrub_ or _flower_, -a straggling _goat_ or _sheep_, these may be touched very negligently. -We have a great modern instance. Few painters have obliged us with -_finer_ scenes, or have possessed the art of combining _woods_, -_lakes_, and _rocks_, into more agreeable pictures, than G. POUSSIN: -Yet his _animals_ are observed to be scarce worthy an ordinary artist. -The use of these is _simply_ to decorate the scene; and so their beauty -depends, not on the truth and correctness of the _drawing_, but on -the elegance of their _disposition_ only. For, in a landskip, the eye -carelessly glances over the smaller parts, and regards them only in -reference to the surrounding objects. The painter’s labour therefore -is lost, or rather misemployed, to the prejudice of the _whole_, when -it strives to finish, so minutely, _particular_ objects. If some great -masters have shewn themselves ambitious of this fame, the objects, -they have laboured, have been always such, as are most considerable in -themselves, and have, besides, an _effect_ in illustrating and setting -off the entire scenery. It is chiefly in this view, that Ruisdale’s -_waters_, and Claude Lorain’s _skies_ are so admirable. - - * * * * * - -40.—CUI LECTA POTENTER ERIT RES.] _Potenter_ i. e. κατὰ δύναμιν, -_Lambin_: which gives a pertinent sense, but without justifying the -expression. The learned editor of Statius proposes to read _pudenter_, -a word used by Horace on other occasions, and which suits the meaning -of the place, as well. A similar passage in the epistle to Augustus -adds some weight to this conjecture; - - _nec meus audet_ - REM _tentare_ PUDOR, _quam vires ferre recusent_. - - * * * * * - -45. HOC AMET, HOC SPERNAT, PROMISSI CARMINIS AUCTOR—IN VERBIS ETIAM -TENUIS CAUTUSQUE SERENDIS.] Dr. Bentley hath inverted the order of -these two lines; not merely, as I conceive, without sufficient reason, -but in prejudice also to the scope and tenor of the poet’s sense; in -which case only I allow myself to depart from his text. The whole -precept, on poetical distribution, is delivered, as of importance: - - [_Ordinis haec virtus erit et venus, aut ego fallor_.] - -And such indeed it is: for, 1. It respects no less than the -constitution of a _whole_, i. e. the reduction of a subject into one -entire, consistent plan, the most momentous and difficult of all the -offices of _invention_, and which is more immediately addressed, in the -high and sublime sense of the word, to the POET. 2. ’Tis no trivial -_whole_, which the Precept had in view, but, as the context shews, and -as is further apparent from v. 150, where this topic is resumed and -treated more at large, the _epos_ and the _drama_: With what propriety -then is a rule of such dignity inforced by that strong emphatic -conclusion, - - _Hoc amet, hoc spernat, promissi carminis auctor_: - -_i. e._ “Be this rule held sacred and inviolate by him, who hath -projected and engaged in a work, deserving the appellation of a poem.” -Were the subject only the choice or invention of _words_, the solemnity -of such an application must be ridiculous. - -As for the construction, the commonest reader can find himself at no -loss to defend it against the force of the Doctor’s objections. - - * * * * * - -46. IN VERBIS ETIAM TENUIS, &c.] I have said, that these preparatory -observations concerning an _unity_ of design, the _abuse of language_, -and the different _colourings_ of the several species of poetry, -whilst they extend to poetic composition at _large_, more particularly -respect the case of the _drama_. The _first_ of these articles has been -illustrated in note on v. 34. The _last_ will be considered in note v. -73. I will here shew the same of the _second_, concerning the _abuse -of words_. For 1. the style of the drama representing real life, and -demanding, on that account, a peculiar ease and familiarity in the -language, the practice of coining _new_ words must be more insufferable -in _this_, than in any other species of poetry. The majesty of the epic -will even sometimes require to be supported by this means, when the -commonest ear would resent it, as downright affectation upon the stage. -Hence the peculiar propriety of this rule to the dramatic writer, - - _In verbis etiam tenuis cautusque serendis_. - -2. Next, it is necessary to keep the tragic style, though -condescending, in some sort, to the familiar cast of conversation, -from sinking beneath the dignity of the personages, and the solemnity -of the representation. Now no expedient can more happily effect -this, than what the poet prescribes concerning the _position_ and -_derivation_ of words. For thus, the language, without incurring the -odium of absolutely _invented_ terms, sustains itself in a becoming -stateliness and reserve, and, whilst it seems to stoop to the level -of conversation, artfully eludes the meanness of a trite, prosaic -style.—There are wonderful instances of this management in the _Samson -Agonistes_ of Milton; the most artificial and highly finished, though -for that reason, perhaps, the least popular and most neglected, of all -the great poet’s works. - - * * * * * - -47. DIXERIS EGREGIE, NOTUM SI CALLIDA VERBUM REDDIDERIT JUNCTURA -NOVUM.—] This direction, about _disposing_ of old words in such a -manner as that they shall have the grace of _new_ ones, is among the -finest in the whole poem. And because Shakespear is he, of all our -poets, who has most successfully practised this secret, it may not be -amiss to illustrate the precept before us by examples taken from his -writings. - -But first it will be proper to explain the _precept_ itself as given by -Horace. - -His critics seem not at all to have apprehended the force of it. Dacier -and Sanadon, the two best of them, confine it merely to the formation -of _compound words_; which, though _one_ way in which this _callida -junctura_ shews itself, is by no means the whole of what the poet -intended by it. - -Their mistake arose from interpreting the word _junctura_ too strictly. -They suppose it to mean only the _putting together two words into one_; -this being the most obvious idea we have of the _joining_ of words. -As if the most _literal_ construction of terms, according to their -etymology, were always the most proper. - -But Mr. Dacier has a reason of his own for confining the precept to -this meaning. “The question, he says, is _de verbis serendis_; and -therefore this _junctura_ must be explained of _new_ words, properly so -called, as compound epithets are; and not of the grace of novelty which -single words seem to acquire from the art of disposing of them.” - -By which we understand, that the learned critic did not perceive the -scope of his author; which was manifestly this. “The invention of new -terms, says he, being a matter of much nicety, I had rather you would -contrive to employ known words in such a way as to give them the effect -of new ones. ’Tis true, new words may sometimes be necessary: And if -so,” &c. Whence we see that the line, - - _In verbis etiam tenuis cautusque serendis_ - -is not given here in form as the _general rule_, and the following -line as the _example_. On the other hand, the rule is just mentioned -carelessly and in passing, while the poet is hastening to another -consideration of more importance, and which he even _opposes_ to the -former. “Instead of making new words, you will do well to confine -yourself merely to old ones.” Whatever then be the meaning of -_junctura_, it is clear we are not to explain it of such words as -exemplify the rule _de verbis serendis_. - -But _junctura_ will best be interpreted by the _usage_ of Horace -together with the _context_; 1. The word occurs only once more in this -poet, and that in this very Epistle. It is where he advises a conduct -with regard to the _subject-matter_ of a poem, analogous to this -concerning the _language_ of it. - - _Ex noto fictum carmen sequar— - ——tantum series juncturaque pollet._ v. 242. - -Does he mean _the joining two subjects together_ and combining them -into _one_, so as that the _compound_ subject shall be a _new_ one? No -such thing; “The subject, says he, shall be a _known_, an old one. Yet -the _order, management, and contrivance_ shall be such as to give it -the air of an original fiction.” Apply now this sense of _junctura_ to -words, and we are only told, that expression may be so _ordered_ as to -appear new, when the words, of which it is made up, are all known and -common. - -We have then the authority of the poet himself against the opinion -of the French critic. But we have also the authority of his great -imitator, or rather interpreter, Persius; who speaking of the language -of his satires says, in allusion to this passage of Horace, - - “_Verba togæ sequeris_, juncturâ callidus _acri_. - S. v. 14. - -i. e. he took up with words of common and familiar use, but contrived -to bring them into his style in such a manner as to give them the -force, spirit, and energy of satiric expression.” - -2. Again: the context, as I observed, leads us to this meaning. The -poet in v. 42. had been giving his opinion of the nature and effect -of _method_, or orderly disposition in the conduct of a _fable_. -The course of his ideas carries him to apply the observation to -_words_; which he immediately does, only interposing v. 46. by way of -introduction to it. - -On the whole then _junctura_ is a word of large and general import, and -the same in _expression_, as _order or disposition_, in a _subject_. -The poet would say, “Instead of framing new words, I recommend to you -_any_ kind of artful management by which you may be able to give a new -air and cast to old ones.” - -Having now got at the true meaning of the precept, let us see how well -it may be exemplified in the practice of Shakespear. - - -1. The first example of this _artful management_, if it were only -in complaisance to former commentators, shall be that of _compound -epithets_; of which sort are, - - _High-sighted Tyranny_ J. C. A. II. S. 2. - _A barren-spirited fellow_ A. IV. S. 1. - _An arm-gaunt steed_ A. C. A. I. S. 6. - _Flower-soft hands_ A. II. S. 3. - _Lazy-pacing clouds_ R. J. A. II. S. 2. - -and a thousand instances more in this poet. But this is a small part of -his _craft_, as may be seen by what follows. For this end is attained, - - -2. _By another form of composition_; by compound _verbs_ as well as -compound _adjectives_. - - -To _candy_ and _limn_ are known words. The poet would express the -contrary ideas, and he does it happily, by compounding them with our -English negative _dis_, - - ——“The hearts - That pantler’d me at heels, to whom I gave - Their wishes, do _discandy_, melt their sweets - On blossoming Cæsar— - A. C. A. IV. S. 9. - - “That which is now a horse, ev’n with a thought - The rack _dislimns_, and makes it indistinct - As water is in water— - A. C. A. IV. S. 10. - -Though here we may observe, that for the readier acceptation of these -compounds, he artfully subjoins the explanation. - - -3. By a liberty he takes of converting _substantives_ into _verbs_; - - A glass that _featur’d_ them. - Cymb. A. I. S. 1. - - ——Simon’s weeping - Did _scandal_ many a holy tear— - A. III. S. 4. - - Great griefs, I see, _medicine_ the less. - A. IV. S. 5. - - ——that kiss - I carried from thee, Dear; and my true lip - Hath _virgin’d_ it e’er since— - Cor. A. V. S. 3. - - Or _verbs_ into _substantives_; - - ——Then began - A stop i’ th’ chaser, a _Retire_— - Cymb. A. V. S. 2. - - ——take - No stricter _render_ of me— - A. V. S. 3. - - ——handkerchief - Still waving, as the fits and _stirs_ of’s mind - Could best express— - Cymb. A. I. S. 5. - - ——Sextus Pompeius - Hath giv’n the _dare_ to Cæsar— - A. C. A. I. S. 3. - - -4. By using _active_ verbs neutrally, - - ——He hath fought to-day - As if a god in hate of mankind had - _Destroy’d_, in such a shape— - A. C. A. IV. S. 6. - - It is the bloody business, that _informs_ - Thus to mine eyes— - Macb. A. II. S. 2. - -And _neutral_ verbs actively, - - ——never man - Sigh’d truer breath; but that I see thee here, - Thou noble thing! more _dances_ my rapt heart - Than when I first my wedded mistress saw - Bestride my threshold— - Cor. A. IV. S. 4. - - ——like smiling Cupids, - With divers-colour’d fans, whose wind did seem - To _glow_ the delicate cheeks which they did cool— - A. C. A. II. S. 3. - - -5. By converting _Adjectives_ into Substantives. - - ——I do not think - So fair an _outward_ and such stuff within - Endows a man but him— - Cymb. A. I. S. 1. - - -6. By converting _Participles_ into Substantives. - - He would have well become this place, and grac’d - The _thankings_ of a King— - Cymb. A. V. S. 5. - - The herbs, that have in them cold dew o’ th’ night, - Are _strewings_ fitt’st for Graves— - A. IV. S. 5. - - ——“Then was I as a tree - Whose boughs did bend with fruit. But, in one night, - A storm, or robbery, call it what you will, - Shook down my mellow _hangings_—— - Cymb. A. III. S. 3. - - ——Comes in my father, - And like the tyrannous _breathing_ of the North - Shakes all our Buds from blowing—— - Cymb. A. I. S. 5. - -Which last instance I the rather give for the sake of proposing an -emendation, which I think restores this fine passage to its Integrity. -Before the late edition of Shakespear it stood thus, - - And like the tyrannous breathing of the North - Shakes all our Buds from _growing_— - -But the sagacious Editor saw that this reading was corrupt, and -therefore altered the last word, _growing_, for unanswerable reasons, -into _blowing_. See Mr. W’s note upon the place. This slight change -gives propriety and beauty to the passage, which before had no sort of -meaning. Yet still all is not quite right. For, as the great Critic -himself observes, “_Breathing_ is not a very proper word to express -the rage and bluster of the north wind.” Besides, one does not see how -the _shaking_ of these Buds is properly assign’d as the cause of their -not blowing. The wind might shake off the _blossoms_ of a fruit tree, -i. e. the Buds when they were _full-blown_; but so long as the blossom -lies folded up in the Bud, it seems secure from shaking. At least the -_shaking_ is not the _immediate_ cause of the effect, spoken of; it is -simply the _cold_ of the north-wind that closes the Bud and keeps it -from _blowing_. I am therefore tempted to propose another alteration of -the text, and to read thus, - - And like the tyrannous Breathing of the North - _Shuts_ all our Buds from blowing— - -If this correction be allowed, every thing is perfectly right. It is -properly the _breathing_, the cold breath of the North, that shuts up -the Buds when they are on the point of blowing. Whence the epithet -_tyrannous_ will be understood not as implying the idea of _blust’ring_ -(an idea indeed necessary if we retain the word _shakes_) but simply -of _cruel_, the _tyranny_ of this wind consisting in imprisoning -the flower in its Bud and denying it the liberty of coming out into -_Blossom_. The application too of this comparison, which required the -change of _growing_ into _blowing_, seems also to require the present -alteration of _shakes_. For there was no manner of violence in _the -father’s_ coming in upon the lovers. All the effect was, that his -presence _restrained_ them from that interchange of tender words, which -was going to take place between them. - -Thus far I had written in the last edition of these notes, and I, -now, see no cause to doubt the _general_ truth and propriety of -this emendation. Only it occurs to me that, instead of SHUTS, the -poet’s own word might, perhaps, be CHECKS; as not only being more -like in _sound_ to the word _shakes_, but as coming nearer to the -_traces_ of the Letters. Besides, CHECKS gives the precise idea we -should naturally look for, whether we regard the integrity of the -_figure_—_tyrannous_—_checks_—, or the _thing_ illustrated by it, -viz. the abrupt coming in of the father, which was properly a _check_ -upon the lovers. Lastly, the expression is mended by this reading; for -though we may be allowed to say _shuts from blowing_, yet _checks from -blowing_, is easier and better English. - - -But to return to other Instances of the Poet’s artifice in the -management of _known_ words. An apparent Novelty is sometimes effected - - -7. By turning _Participles_ into Adverbs— - - ——_tremblingly_ she stood - And on the sudden dropt— - A. C. A. V. S. 5. - -(One remembers the fine use Mr. Pope has made of this word in, - - Or touch, if _tremblingly_ alive all o’er—) - - ——But his flaw’d heart, - Alack, too weak the conflict to support, - ’Twixt two extremes of Passion, joy and grief, - Burst _smilingly_— - Lear, A. V. S. 8. - - -8. By _figurative terms_; i. e. by such terms as though common in the -_plain_, are unusual in the figurative application. - - ——This common Body - Like to a vagabond flag, upon the stream, - Goes to, and back, _lacquying_ the varying tide. - A. C. A. I. S. 5. - - ——When snow the Pasture _sheets_. - ib. - -To this head may be referred those innumerable terms in Shakespear -which surprize us by their novelty; and which surprize us generally, on -account of his preferring the _specific_ idea to the _general_ in the -_subjects_ of his Metaphors and the _circumstances_ of his Description; -an excellence in poetical expression which cannot be sufficiently -studied. The examples are too frequent, and the thing itself too well -understood, to make it necessary to enlarge on this article. - - -9. By _plain words_, i. e. such as are common in the figurative, -uncommon in the literal acceptation. - - _Disasters_ vail’d the Sun— - Ham. A. I. S. 1. - -See the note on the place. - - Th’ _extravagant_ and erring spirit hies - To his confine— - ib. - - ——Can’t such things be - And _overcome_ us, like a Summer’s cloud, - Without our special wonder?— - Macb. A. III. S. 5. - - -10. By _transposition of words_—_unauthoriz’d use of terms_—_and -ungrammatical construction_. Instances in all his plays, _passim_. - - -11. By _foreign idioms_. ’Tis true these are not frequent in -Shakespear. Yet some Latinisms and e’en Grecisms we have. As - - _Quenched of hope_— - Cymb. A. V. S. 5. - -And the like. But, which is more remarkable and served his purpose -just as well, the writers of that time had so _latiniz’d_ the English -language; that the pure _English_ Idiom, which Shakespear generally -follows, has all the air of _novelty_ which other writers are used to -affect by a foreign phraseology. - -The Reader sees, it were easy to extend this list of Shakespear’s arts -in the _Callida junctura_ much farther. But I intended only a specimen -of them; so much as might serve to illustrate the rule of Horace. - -It is enough, that we have now a perfect apprehension of what is meant -by CALLIDA JUNCTURA; And that it is, in effect, but another word for -_Licentious Expression_: The use of which is, as Quintilian well -expresses it, “_Ut quotidiani et semper eodem modo formati sermonis -Fastidium levet, et nos à vulgari dicendi genere defendat_.” In short, -the articles, here enumerated, are but so many ways of departing from -the usual and simpler forms of speech, without neglecting too much the -grace of ease and perspicuity; In which well-tempered licence one -of the greatest charms of all poetry, but especially of Shakespear’s -poetry, consists. Not that He was always and every where so happy, as -in the instances given above. His expression sometimes, and by the very -means, here exemplified, becomes _hard_, _obscure_, and _unnatural_. -This is the extreme on the other side. But in general, we may say, that -He hath either followed the direction of Horace very ably, or hath hit -upon his Rule very happily. - -We are not perhaps to expect the same ability, or good fortune from -others. _Novelty_ is a charm which nothing can excuse the want of, in -works of entertainment. And the necessity of preventing the tedium -arising from _hacknied expression_ is so instant, that those, who are -neither capable of prescribing to themselves this Rule of the _callida -Junctura_, or of following it when prescribed by others, are yet -inclined to ape it by some spurious contrivance; which being slight -in itself will soon become liable to excess, and ridiculous by its -absurdity. I have a remarkable instance in view, with which the reader -will not be displeased that I conclude this long note. - -About the middle of the 17th century one of the most common of these -mimic efforts was the endless multiplication of _Epithets_; which soon -made their poetry at once both stiff and nerveless. When frequent and -excessive use had made this expedient ridiculous as well as cheap, they -tried another, it’s very opposite _the rejection of all Epithets_, -and so of languid poetry, made rigid Prose. This too had it’s day. A -dramatic Poet of that time has exposed these opposite follies with much -humour. A character of sense and pleasantry is made to interrogate a -Poetaster in the following manner. - - GOLDSWORTH. - - Master CAPERWIT, before you read, pray tell me, - Have your verses any ADJECTIVES? - - CAPERWIT. - - Adjectives! Would you have a poem without - Adjectives? They are the flow’rs, the grace of all our language; - A well-chosen Epithete doth give new Soule - To fainting Poesie; and makes everye verse - A Bribe. With Adjectives we baite our lines, - When we do fish for Gentlewomen’s loves, - And with their sweetness catch the nibbling ear - Of amorous Ladies: With the music of - These ravishing Nouns, we charm the silken tribe, - And make the Gallant melt with apprehension - Of the rare word: I will maintain ’t (against - A bundle of Grammarians) in Poetry - The Substantive itself cannot subsist - Without an Adjective. - - GOLDSWORTH. - - But for all that, - These words would sound more full, methinks, that are not - So larded; and, if I might counsel you, - You should compose a Sonnet, cleane without them. - A row of stately SUBSTANTIVES would march, - Like Switzers, and bear all the field before them; - Carry their weight, shew fair, like DEEDS enroll’d; - Not WRITS, that are first made, and after fill’d: - Thence first came up the title of BLANK verse. - You know, Sir, what _Blank_ signifies? When the Sense - First fram’d, is tied with Adjectives, like Points, - And could not hold together, without wedges. - Hang ’t, ’tis Pedanticke, vulgar Poetry. - Let children, when they versifye, sticke here - And there these pidling words, for want of matter; - POETS write masculine numbers. - - CAPERWIT. - - You have given me a pretty hint: ’Tis NEW. - I will bestow these verses on my footman; - They’ll serve a Chambermaid— - SHIRLEY’S _Chances, or Love in a Maze_. - - * * * * * - -54. CÆCILIO PLAUTOQUE DABIT ROMANUS, ADEMPTUM VIRGILIO VARIOQUE?] -The question is but reasonable. Yet the answer will not be to the -satisfaction of him that puts it. This humour, we may observe, holds -here in England, as it did formerly at Rome; and will, I suppose, hold -every-where, under the same circumstances. Cæcilius and Plautus were -allowed to _coin_, but not Virgil and Varius. The same indulgence our -authors had at the restoration of letters; but it is denied to our -present writers. The reason is plainly this. While arts are refining -or reviving, the greater part are forced, and _all_ are content to be -_Learners_. When they are grown to their usual height, all affect to be -_Teachers_. With this affectation, a certain envy, as the poet observes, - - ——_cur adquirere pauca, - Si possum_, invideor— - -insinuates itself; which is for restraining the privileges of writers, -to all of whom every reader is now become a Rival. Whereas men, under -the first character of _Learners_, are glad to encourage every thing -that makes for their instruction. - -But whatever offence may be taken at this practice, good writers, as -they safely may, should _dare_ to venture upon it. A perfect language -is a chimæra. In every state of it there will frequently be occasion, -sometimes a necessity, to hazard a _new_ word. And let not a great -genius be discouraged, by the fastidious delicacy of his age, from a -sober use of this privilege. Let him, as the poet directs, - - Command _old_ words, that long have slept, to wake, - Words, that wise BACON, or brave RALEGH spake; - Or bid the _new_ be English ages hence, - For USE will father what’s begot by SENSE. - -This too was the constant language of ancient criticism. “Audendum -tamen; namque, ut ait Cicero, etiam quæ primò dura visa sunt, usu -molliuntur,” _Quintil._ l. i. c. v. - - * * * * * - -70. MULTA RENASCENTUR, QUAE JAM CECIDERE.] This _revival_ of _old_ -words is one of those _niceties_ in composition, not to be attempted -by any but great masters. It may be done two ways, 1. by restoring -such terms, as are grown entirely obsolete; or, 2. by selecting out -of those, which have still a currency, and are not quite laid aside, -such as are most forcible and expressive. For so I understand a passage -in Cicero, who urges this double use of old words, as an argument, -to his orator, for the diligent study of the old Latin writers. His -words are these: _Loquendi elegantia, quamquam expolitur scientiâ -literarum, tamen augetur legendis oratoribus [veteribus] et poetis: -sunt enim illi veteres, qui ornare nondum poterant ea, quae dicebant, -omnes prope præclare locuti—Neque tamen erit utendum verbis iis, quibus -jam consuetudo nostra non utitur, nisi quando ornandi causâ, parcè, -quod ostendam; sed usitatis ita poterit uti, lectissimis ut utatur -is, qui in veteribus erit scriptis studiosè et multum volutatus._ [De -Orat. l. iii. c. x.] These _choice_ words amongst such as are still -in _use_, I take to be those which are employed by the old writers in -some peculiarly strong and energetic sense, yet so as with advantage -to be copied by the moderns, without appearing barbarous or affected. -[See HOR. lib. ii. ep. ii. v. 115.] And the reason, by the way, of -our finding such words in the old writers of every language, may be -this. When ideas are new to us, they strike us most forcibly; and we -endeavour to express, not our _sense_ only, but our _sensations_, -in the terms we use to explain them. The passion of wonder, which -Philosophy would cure us of, is of singular use in raising the -conception, and strengthening the expression of poets. And such is -always the condition of old writers, when the arts are reviving, or -but beginning to refine. The other use of old terms, _i. e._ when -become _obsolete_, he says, must be made _parcè_, more sparingly. The -contrary would, in oratory, be insufferable affectation. The rule holds -in poetry, but with greater latitude; for, as he observes in another -place, and the reason of the thing speaks, _hæc sunt Poetarum licentiæ -liberiora_. [De Or. iii. 38.] But the elegance of the style, we are -told, is increased both ways. The reason is, according to Quinctilian -(who was perfectly of Cicero’s mind in this matter. See l. x. c. i.) -_Verba à vetustate repetita afferunt orationi majestatem aliquam non -sine delectatione; nam et auctoritatem antiquitatis habent; et, quia -intermissa sunt, gratiam novitati similem parant._ [Lib. i. c. vi. -sub fin.] But this is not all: The riches of a language are actually -increased by retaining its old words; and besides, they have often -a greater real weight and dignity, than those of a more fashionable -cast, which succeed to them. This needs no proof to such as are versed -in the earlier writings in _any_ language. A very capable judge hath -observed it in regard of the most admired _modern_ one: _Nous avons -tellement laissé ce qui étoit au viel françois, que nous avons -laissé quant et quant la plus part de ce qu’il avoit de bon._ [Trait. -préparatif à l’ Apol. pour Herod. l. i. c. xxviii.] Or, if the reader -requires a more decisive testimony, let him take it in the words of -that curious speaker, Fenelon. _Nôtre langue manque d’un grand nombre -de mots et de phrases. Il me semble même qu’on l’a genée et appauvrie -depuis environ cent ans en voulant la purifier. Il est vrai qu’elle -étoit encore un peu informe et trop verbeuse. Mais le vieux language -se fait regretter, quand nous le retrouvons dans_ MAROT, _dans_ AMIOT, -_dans le Cardinal d’_OSSAT, _dans les ouvrages les plus enjoues, et -dans les plus serieux. Il y avoit je ne scai quoi de court, de näif, -de vif et de passioné._ [Reflex. sur la Rhetorique, Amst. 1733. p. 4.] -From these testimonies we learn the extreme value, which these masters -of composition set upon their old writers; and as the reason of the -thing justifies their opinions, we may further see the important use of -some late attempts to restore a better knowledge of our _own_. Which I -observe with pleasure, as the growing prevalency of a very different -humour, first catched, as it should seem, from our commerce with the -French models, and countenanced by the too scrupulous delicacy of -some good writers amongst ourselves, had gone far towards unnerving -the noblest modern language, and effeminating the public taste. This -was not a little forwarded by, what generally makes its appearance at -the same time, a kind of feminine curiosity in the choice of words; -cautiously avoiding and reprobating all such (which were not seldom -the most expressive) as had been prophaned by a too vulgar use, or -had suffered the touch of some other accidental taint. This ran us -into periphrases and general expression; the peculiar bane of every -polished language. Whereas the rhetorician’s judgment here again -should direct us: _Omnia verba (exceptis paucis parum verecundis) sunt -alicubi optima; nam et humilibus interim et vulgaribus est opus, et quæ -cultiore in parte videntur sordida, ubi res poscit, propriè dicuntur_. -Which seems borrowed from Dionysius of Halicarnassus [περ. συνθεσ. § -xii.] οὐδὲν οὕτω ταπεινὸν, ἢ ῥυπαρὸν, ἢ μιαρὸν, ἢ ἄλλην τινὰ δυσχέρειαν -ἔχον ἔσεσθαί φημι λόγου μόριον, ᾧ σημαίνεταί τι σῶμα ἢ πρᾶγμα, ὃ -μηδεμίαν ἕξει χῶραν ἐπιτηδείαν ἐν λόγοις. However those two causes, -“The rejection of old words, as barbarous, and of many modern ones, as -unpolite,” had so exhausted the strength and stores of our language, -that, as I observed, it was high time for some master-hand to interpose -and send us for supplies to our old poets; which, there is the highest -authority for saying, no one ever despised, but for a reason, not very -consistent with his credit to avow: _rudem enim esse omnino in nostris -poëtis aut inertissimæ segnitiæ est aut fastidii delicatissimi_. [Cic. -de fin. l. i. c. ii.] - - * * * * * - -72.—SI VOLET USUS, &c.] _Consuetudo certissima loquendi magistra; -utendumque planè sermone, ut nummo, qui publica forma est._ [Quinctil. -l. i. c. vi.] imitated from Horace. In _Lucian_ too, we find it one of -the charges brought against the Pedant, _Lexiphanes_, that _he clipped -the standard_ COIN _of the Greek language_—σπουδὴν ποιούμενος ὡς δή τι -μέγα ὂν, εἴτι ξενίζοι καὶ τὸ καθεστηκὸς ΝΟΜΙΣΜΑ τῆς φωνῆς παρακόπτοι -(c. 20.) - - * * * * * - -73. RES GESTAE, etc.] The purport of these lines [from v. 73 to 86] and -their connexion with what follows, hath not been fully seen. They would -express this general proposition, “That the several kinds of poetry -essentially differ from each other, as may be gathered, not solely from -their different subjects, but their different measures; which good -sense, and an attention to the peculiar natures of each, instructed -the great inventors and masters of them to employ.” The use made of -this proposition is to infer, “that therefore the like attention should -be had to the different species of the _same kind_ of poetry [v. 89, -&c.] as in the case of tragedy and comedy (to which the application is -made) whose peculiar differences and correspondencies, as resulting -from the natures of each, should, in agreement to the universal law of -_decorum_, be exactly known and diligently observed by the poet.” - - _Singula quæque locum teneant sortita decentem._ - v. 92. - -But, there is a further propriety in this enumeration of the several -kinds of poetry, as addressed to the dramatic writer. He is not only to -study, for the purposes here explained, the characteristic differences -of either species of the drama: He must further be knowing in the other -_kinds_ of poetry, so as to be able, as the nature of his work shall -demand, to adopt the genius of each, in its turn, and to transfer -the graces of universal poetry into the drama. Thus, to follow the -division here laid down, there will sometimes be occasion for the pomp -and high _coloring_ of the EPIC narration; sometimes for the plaintive -softness and passionate inconnexion of the ELEGY: and the chorus, if -characterized in the ancient manner, must catch the fiery, inraptured -spirit of the ODE. - - _Descriptas servare vices operumque colores, - Cur ego, si nequeo ignoroque_, POETA _salutor?_ - -Hence is seen the truth of that remark, which there hath been more -than once occasion to make, “That, however general these prefatory -instructions may appear, they more especially respect the case of the -_drama_.” - - * * * * * - -90. INDIGNATUR ITEM, etc.—COENA THYESTAE.] _Il met le souper de -Thyeste pour toutes sortes de tragedies_, says M. Dacier; but why this -subject was singled out, as the representative of the rest, is not -explained by him. We may be sure, it was not taken up at random. The -reason was, that the Thyestes of Ennius was peculiarly chargeable with -the fault, here censured: as is plain from a curious passage in the -_Orator_; where Cicero, speaking of the loose numbers of certain poets, -observes this, in particular, of the tragedy of Thyestes, _Similia sunt -quædam apud nostros: velut in Thyeste_, - - _Quemnam te esse dicam? qui tardâ in senectute._ - -_et quæ sequuntur: quæ nisi cùm tibicen accesserit_, ORATIONI SUNT -SOLUTÆ SIMILLIMA: which character exactly agrees to _this_ of Horace, -wherein the language of that play is censured, as flat and prosaic, -and hardly rising above the level of ordinary conversation in comedy. -This allusion to a particular play, written by one of their best poets, -and frequently exhibited on the Roman stage, gives great force and -spirit to the precept, at the same time that it exemplifies it in the -happiest manner. It seems further probable to me, that the poet also -designed an indirect compliment to _Varius_, whose Thyestes, we are -told, [_Quinctil._ l. x. c. i.] _was not inferior to any tragedy of the -Greeks_. This double intention of these lines well suited the poet’s -general aim, which is seen through all his critical works, of beating -down the excessive admiration of the old poets, and of asserting the -just honours of the modern. It may further be observed that the critics -have not felt the force of the words _exponi_ and _narrari_ in this -precept. They are admirably chosen to express the two faults condemned: -the first implying a kind of pomp and ostentation in the language, -which is therefore improper for the low subjects of comedy: and the -latter, as I have hinted, a flat, prosaic expression, not above the -cast of a common _narrative_, and therefore equally unfit for tragedy. -Nothing can be more rambling than the comment of Heinsius and Dacier on -this last word. - - * * * * * - -94. IRATUSQUE CHREMES TUMIDO DILITIGAT ORE: ET TRAGICUS PLERUMQUE -DOLET SERMONE PEDESTRI.] It may not be amiss to open a little more -particularly the grounds of this criticism: which may best be done by a -commentary on the following lines of the poet: - - _Format enim natura priùs nos intùs ad omnem - Fortunarum habitum; juvat aut impellit ad iram; - Aut ad humum mærore gravi deducit et angit: - Pòst effert animi motus interprete linguâ_: - -To _draw_ after the life, in any given conjuncture, the poet must -recollect (which may easily be done by consulting with his own -conscious experience) that _peculiar disposition_ of mind, into which -the speaker is, of necessity, carried by the circumstances of his -situation. And the _sentiments_, which give the image of this peculiar -disposition, are the genuine lineaments of the character intended. - -But the _truth_ of sentiment may be hurt or effaced by incongruous -language, just as the exactest lineaments of a portrait are often -disguised or lost under a vicious coloring. To _paint_ then as well -as draw after the truth, it is requisite that a further regard be -had to the _expression_. Which again is no great difficulty for the -artist, the same common nature holding the torch to him, as before. -For in entering into ourselves we find, that as the mind, in any -supposed situation, gives birth to a _certain_ set of conceptions and -sentiments, correspondent to its true state, and expressive of it: so -by attending to the _language_, in which those sentiments ordinarily -manifest themselves, we easily perceive they take _one_ style or -manner of expression preferably to every other. For _expression_, -where false art is not employed to distort it, gives the just image of -our _sentiments_; just as _these_, when nature is not suppressed or -counteracted, are ever the faithful representatives of the _manners_. -They result, like the famous _Simulacra_ of Epicurus, as by a secret -destination, from their _original forms_; and are, _each_, the perfect -copies of _other_. All which will be clearly understood by applying -these general observations to the instances in view. - -The passion of ANGER rouses all the native fire and energy of the soul. -In this disorder, and, as it were, insurrection of the mental powers, -our sentiments are strong and vigorous; nature prompting us to liberal -and lofty conceptions of ourselves, and a superior disdainful regard -of others. This again determines the _genius_ of our language, which, -to conform to such sentiments, must be bold and animated; breaking -out into forcible imagery, and swelling in all the pomp of sounding -epithets and violent figures. And this even amidst the humbler -concerns of private and inferior fortunes: - - _Iratusque Chremes_ TUMIDO DILITIGAT ORE. - -In the passion of GRIEF, on the contrary, the reverse of this takes -place. For the mind, oppressed and weighed down by its sorrows, sinks -into a weak and timorous despondency; inclining us to submit, almost -without resistance, to the incumbent affliction; or if we struggle -at all with it, it is only to ease the labouring heart by putting -forth some fruitless sighs and ineffectual complainings. Thus we find -it represented by those perfect masters of simple nature, the Greek -tragedians. So far are their sorrowing personages from entertaining any -vigorous thoughts or manly resolutions, that they constantly languish -into sad repinings at their present, and trembling apprehensions of -future, misery. - -When these sentiments come to express themselves in _words_, what -can they be but the plainest and simplest which the language of -the complainant furnishes? Such negligence, or more properly such -dejection, of sorrow disposes the speaker to take up with terms as -humble as his fortune. His feeble conception is not only unapt or -unable to look out for fine words and painted phrases; but, if chance -throw them in his way, he even rejects them as trappings of another -condition, and which serves only to upbraid his present wretchedness. -The pomp of numbers and pride of _poetic_ expression are so little -his care, that it is well if he even trouble himself to observe the -ordinary exactness of _mere prose_[11]. And this even where the height -of rank and importance of affairs conspire to elevate the mind to more -state and dignity. - - _Et tragicus plerumque_ DOLET SERMONE PEDESTRI. - -Thus far the dramatic writer may inform himself by entering into his -own _consciousness_, and observing the sure dictates of experience. For -what concerns the successful application of this rule in _practice_, -every thing, as is remarked below, [on v. 102.] must depend on the -constitution of his own mind; which yet may be much assisted by the -diligent study of those writers, who excel most in this way: in which -class all agree to give the palm to EURIPIDES. - -But here it may not be improper to obviate a common mistake that seems -to have arisen from the too strict interpretation of the poet’s Rule. -_Tragic characters_, he says, _will generally express their sorrows in -a prosaic language_. From this just observation, hastily considered -and compared with the absurd practice of some writers, it hath been -concluded, That what we call _pure Poetry_, the essence of which -consists in bold figures and a lively imagery, hath no place on the -Stage. It may not be sufficient to oppose to this notion the _practice_ -of the best poets, ancient and modern; for the question recurrs, -how far that practice is to be justified on the principles of good -criticism and common sense. To come then, _to the Reason of the thing_. - - -The capital rule in this matter is, - - _Reddere Personæ—convenientia cuique_. - -But to do this, the _Situation_ of the persons, and the various -_passions_ resulting from such situation, must be well considered. Each -of these has a _character_ or turn of thinking peculiar to itself. But -_all_ agree in this property, that they occupy the whole attention of -the speaker, and are perpetually offering to his mind a set of pictures -or images, suitable to his state, and expressive of it. In these the -tragic character of every denomination loves to indulge; as we may see -by looking no farther than on what passes before us in common life, -where persons, under the influence of any passion, are more eloquent -and have a greater quickness at allusion and imagery, than at other -times. So that to take from the speaker this privilege of representing -such pictures or images is so far from consulting Nature, that it is, -in effect, to overlook or reject one of her plainest lessons. - -’Tis true, if _one_ character is busied in running after the -Images which Nature throws in the way only of some _other_; or if, -in representing such images as are proper to the character, the -Imagination is taken up in tracing minute resemblances and amusing -itself with circumstances that have no relation to the case in hand: -then indeed the censure of these critics is well applied. It may be -_fine poetry_, if you will, but very bad _dramatic writing_. But let -the imagery be ever so great or splendid, if it be such only as the -governing passion loves to conceive and paint, and if it be no further -dilated on, and with no greater sollicitude and curiosity, than the -natural working of the passion demands, the Drama is so far from -rejecting such Poetry that it glories in it, as what is most essential -to its true end and design. - - _Ille per extentum funem mihi posse videtur - Ire poeta, meum qui pectus inaniter angit, - Inritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus implet, - Ut magus_—— - -An office, which the dramatic poet hath no means of sustaining but by -that strong painting and forcible imagery, above described. - -What seems to have given a colour to the opposite opinion, is the -faulty practice which good critics have observed in the _French_ -tragedies, and in some of our own that have been formed upon their -model. But the case is mistaken. It is not the _Poetry_ of the -French or English drama that deserves their censure, but its prolix -and languid _Declamation_, neglecting passion for _sentiment_, or -expressing _passion_ in a calm circuit of words and without spirit. -Even Mr. Addison’s CATO, which from being immoderately extolled has -had the usual fate of being as immoderately undervalued, is not to be -censured for its abundance of poetry, but for its application of it in -a way that hurts the _passion_. General sentiments, uncharacteristic -imagery, and both drawn out in a spiritless, or, which comes to the -same thing, a too curious expression, are the proper faults of this -drama. What the critic of just taste demands in this fine tragedy, is -even more poetry, but better applied and touched with more spirit. - -Still, perhaps, we are but on the surface of this matter. The true -ground of this mistaken Criticism, is, The Notion, that when the Hero -is at the crisis of his fate, he is not at liberty to use Poetical, -that is, highly figurative expression: but that the proper season for -these things is when he has nothing else to do. Whereas the truth is -just the contrary. The figures, when he is greatly agitated, come of -themselves; and, suiting the grandeur and dignity of his situation, -are perfectly natural. To use them in his cool and quiet moments, when -he has no great interests to prosecute or extricate himself from, is -directly against _Nature_. For, in this state of things, he must _seek_ -them, if he will have them. And when he has got them and made his best -use of them, what do they produce? Not sublimity, but Bombast. For it -is not the _figures_, but the suitableness to the _occasion_, that -produces either. Not that I am ignorant that there are vices in the -_formation_ of figures, as well as in their application. But these -vices go under various other names. The _pure simple Bombast_ (if I -may be indulged so bold a catachresis) arises from putting figurative -expression to an improper use. To give an instance of what I mean. -TACITUS writes under one continued resentment at the degeneracy of his -times, and speaking of some sumptuary Laws proposed by the Senate, in 2 -_Ann._ c. 33, he says they decreed, _Ne Vestis Serica viros_ FOEDARET. -This became the dignity of his historic character and genius. But had -his Contemporary, Suetonius, who wrote Chronicles in the spirit of -our STOW and HOLINSHED, used the same language, it would have set his -readers a laughing. - -Not but figurative expression, even when _suitable_ to the character, -genius, and general subject of a writer, may still be _misplaced_. -Thus, had Tacitus, speaking of the honours decreed to Tiberius on a -certain occasion, said with his translator Gordon—_which of these -he meant to accept or which to reject, the approaching issue of his -days has_ BURIED _in oblivion_—the _figure_, the reader sees, would -have been miserably out of place; the conceit of the _burial_ of his -intentions, on the mention of his death, being even ridiculous. But -the ridicule, we may be sure, falls on the translator only, and not -on his great original, who expresses himself on this occasion, not -only with propriety, but with the greatest simplicity—_quos omiserit -receperitve_ IN INCERTO _fuit ob propinquum vitæ finem_. Ann. l. vi. c. -45. - -I have brought these instances to shew that _figurative expression_ is -not improper even in a fervent animated historian, on a _fit subject_, -and in _due place_: much less should the tragic poet, when his -characters are to be shewn in the conflict of the stronger passions, be -debarred the use of it. - -The short of the matter is, in one word, this. Civil Society first of -all _tames us to humanity_, as Cicero expresses it; and, in the course -of its discipline, brings us down to one dead level. Its effect is to -make us all the same pliant, mimic, obsequious things; not unlike, in -a word, (if our pride could overlook the levity of the comparison) -what we see of trained Apes. But when the violent passions arise (as -in the case of these Apes when the apples were thrown before them) -this artificial discipline is all shaken off, and we return again to -the free and ferocious state of Nature. And what is the expression of -that state? It is (as we understand by experience) a free and fiery -expression, all made up of bold metaphors and daring figures of Speech. - -The conclusion is, that Poetry, _pure Poetry_, is the proper language -of _Passion_, whether we chuse to consider it as ennobling, or debasing -the human character. - -There is, as I have said, an obvious distinction to be made (and to -that the poet’s rule, as explained in this note, refers) between the -soft and tender, and the more vigorous passions. When the former -prevail, the mind is in a weak languid state; and though all allusion -and imagery be not improper here, yet as that fire and energy of the -soul is wanting, which gives a facility of ranging over our ideas -and of seizing such as may be turned to any resemblance of our own -condition, it will for that reason be less _frequent_ in this state of -the mind than any other. Such imagery, too, will for the same reason be -less _striking_, because the same languid affections lead to, and make -us acquiesce in a simpler and plainer expression. But universally in -the stronger passions the _poetical character_ prevails, and rises only -in proportion to the force and activity of those passions. - -To draw the whole then of what has been said on this subject into a -standing RULE for the observance of the dramatic Poet. - -“MAN is so formed that whether he be in joy, or grief; in confidence or -despair; in pleasure or pain; in prosperity or distress; in security -or danger; or torn and distracted by all the various modifications of -Love, Hate, and Fear: The Imagination is incessantly presenting to the -mind an infinite variety of images or pictures, conformable to his -Situation: And these Pictures receive their various coloring from the -habits, which his birth and condition, his education, profession and -pursuits have induced. The _representation_ of these is the POETRY, -and a _just_ representation, in a great measure, the ART, of dramatic -writing.” - - * * * * * - -95. ET TRAGICUS PLERUMQUE DOLET SERMONE PEDESTRI.] Dr. Bentley connects -this with the following line: - - [_Et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri - Telephus aut Peleus_ - -for the sake, as he says, of _preserving the opposition_. _In -comædiâ iratus Chremes tumido, in tragædiâ Telephus pauper humili -sermone utitur._ This is specious; but, if the reader attends, he -will perceive, that the opposition is better preserved without his -connection. For it will stand thus: The poet first asserts of comedy at -large, _that it sometimes raises its voice_, - - _Interdum tamen et vocem comædia tollit_. - -Next, he confirms this general remark, by appealing to a particular -instance, - - _Iratusque Chremes tumido dilitigat ore_. - -Exactness of _opposition_ will require the same method to be observed -in speaking of _tragedy_; which accordingly is the case, if we follow -the vulgar reading. For, first, it is said of _tragedy_, that, when -grief is to be expressed, it generally condescends to an humbler strain, - - _Et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri_. - -And then the general truth, as before, is illustrated by a particular -instance, - - _Telephus aut Peleus, cum pauper et exul uterque, - Projicit ampullas, &c._ - -There is no absurdity, as the Doctor pretends, in taking _tragicus_ for -_tragædiarum scriptor_. For the poet, by a common figure, is made to do -that, which he represents his persons, as doing. - -But this is not the whole, that will deserve the reader’s regard in -this place. A strict attention to the scope and turn of the passage -[from v. 96 to 114] will lead him to conclude, 1. “That some real -tragedy of Telephus and Peleus was intended in v. 96, in which the -characters were duly preserved and set forth in proper language.” This -the opposition to the _Chremes_ of Terence absolutely demands. Let us -inquire what this might be. _Euripides_, we know, composed tragedies -under these names; but it is unlikely, the poet should contrast the -instance of a _Greek_ tragedy to a _Latin_ comedy. Nor need it be -supposed. The subject was familiar to the Roman poets. For we find a -_Telephus_ ascribed to no less than three of them, _Ennius_, _Accius_, -and _Nævius_[12]. One of these then I doubt not, is here intended. But -the Roman, in those times, were little more than translations of the -Greek plays. Hence it is most likely, that the tragedy of _Telephus_ -(and probably of _Peleus_, though we have not so direct authority -for this) was, in fact, the tragedy of _Euripides_, translated into -Latin, and accommodated to the Roman stage, by one of these writers. -It remains only to enquire, if the _Telephus_ itself of _Euripides_ -answered to this character. Which, I think, it manifestly did, from -considering what his enemy, the buffoon Aristophanes, hath said -concerning it. Every body knows, that the BATRAXOI of this poet -contains a direct satyr, and Burlesque upon _Euripides_. Some part -of it is particularly levelled against his _Telephus_: whence we may -certainly learn the objections, that were made to it. Yet the amount -of them is only this, “That he had drawn the character of _Telephus_ -in too many circumstances of distress and humiliation.” His fault was, -that he had represented him more like a beggar, than an unfortunate -prince. Which, in more candid hands, would, I suppose, amount only to -this, “That the poet had painted his distress in the most natural, and -affecting manner.” He had stripped him of his royalty, and, together -with it of the pomp and ostentation of the regal language, the very -beauty, which Horace applauds and admires in his _Telephus_. - -2. Next, I think it as clear from what follows, “That some real tragedy -of _Telephus_, and _Peleus_, was also glanced at, of a different stamp -from the other, and in which the characters were not supported by -such propriety of language.” Let the reader judge. Having quoted a -_Telephus_ and _Peleus_, as examples to the rule concerning the style -of tragedy, and afterwards enlarged [from v. 98 to 103] on the reasons -of their excellence, he returns, with an air of insult, to the same -names, apostrophizing them in the following manner: - - _Telephe, vel Peleu, male si mandata loquêris, - Aut dormitabo aut ridebo_: - -But why this address to _characters_, which he had before alleged, as -examples of true dramatical _drawing_? Would any tolerable writer, -after having applauded Shakespear’s King _Lear_, as an instance of the -kingly character in distress, naturally painted, apostrophize it, with -such pointed vehemence, on the contrary supposition? But let this pass. -The Poet, as though a notorious violation of the critic’s rules was to -be thoroughly exposed, goes on, in the seven following lines, to search -into the bottom of this affair, laying open the source and ground of -his judgment; and concludes upon the whole, - - _Si dicentis erunt fortunis absona dicta_, - ROMANI TOLLENT EQUITESQUE PATRESQUE CACHINNUM. - -Can any thing be plainer, than that this last line points at some -well-known instance of a Latin play, which had provoked, upon this -account, the contempt and laughter of the best judges? It may further -be observed, that this way of understanding the passage before us, as -it is more conformable to what is here shewn to be the general scope of -the epistle, so doth it, in its turn, likewise countenance, or rather -clearly shew, the truth and certainty of this method of interpretation. - - * * * * * - -99. NON SATIS EST PULCHRA, etc.] Dr. Bentley objects to _pulchra_, -because this, he says, is a general term, including under it every -species of beauty, and therefore that of _dulcis_ or the _affecting_. -But the great critic did not sufficiently attend to the connexion, -which, as F. Robortellus, in his paraphrase on the epistle, well -observes, stands thus: “It is not enough, that tragedies have that kind -of beauty, which arises from a pomp and splendor of diction, they must -also be pathetic or affecting.” _Objiciat se mihi hoc loco aliquis et -dicat, si id fiat_ [_i. e._ si projiciantur ampullæ] _corrumpi omnem -venustatem et gravitatem poëmatis tragici, quod nihil nisi grande et -elatum recipit. Huic ego ita respondendum puto, non satis esse, ut -poëmata venusta sint et dignitatem suam servent: nam dulcedine quoque -et suavitate quâdam sunt conspergenda, ut possint auditoris animum -inflectere in quamcunque voluerint partem._ - -But a very ingenious person, who knows how to unite philosophy with -criticism; and to all that is elegant in _taste_, to add what is most -just and accurate in _science_, hath, in the following note, shewn the -very foundation of Dr. Bentley’s criticism to be erroneous. - -“There are a multitude of words in every language, which are sometimes -used in a _wider_, sometimes in a _more restrained_ sense. Of this -kind are καλὸν of the Greeks, the _pulchrum_ of the Romans, and the -words by which they are translated in modern languages. To whatever -subjects these epithets are applied, we always intend to signify that -they give us _pleasure_: and we seldom apply them to any subjects, -but those which please by means of impressions made on the fancy: -_including_ under this name the reception of images conveyed directly -by the sight itself. As Poetry therefore always addresses itself to the -imagination, every species of _poetical excellence_ obtains the name of -_Beauty_: and, among the rest, the power of pleasing us by affecting -the _passions_; an effect which intirely depends on the various images -presented to our view. In this sense of the word _beautiful_, it cannot -be opposed to _pathetic_. _Pulchrum enim quascunque carminis virtutes, -etiam ipsam_ dulcedinem, _in se continere meritò videatur._ - -But nothing, I think, can be plainer, than that this epithet is often -used more _determinately_. Visible forms are not merely occasions of -pleasure, in common with other objects, but they produce a pleasure of -a singular kind. And the power they have of producing it, is properly -denominated by the name of _Beauty_. Whether Regularity and Variety -have been rightly assigned, as the circumstances on which it depends, -is a question, which in this place we need not consider. It cannot -at least be denied, that we make a distinction among the objects of -sight, when the things themselves are removed from our view: and that -we annex the names of Beauty and Deformity to different objects and -different pictures, in consequence of these perceptions. I ask then, -what is meant, when the words are thus applied? Is it only that we -are _pleased_ or _displeased_? This surely cannot be said. For the -epithets would then be applied with equal propriety to the objects -of different senses: and the fragrance of a flower, for instance, -would be a species of beauty; the bitterness of wormwood a species -of deformity.—Do we then mean, that we receive pleasure and pain by -means of the _Imagination_? We may indeed mean _this_: but we certainly -mean _more_ than this. For the same names are used and applied, in a -manner perfectly similar, by numbers of persons who never once thought -of this artificial method of distinguishing their ideas. There is then -some kind of perception, common to them and us, which has occasioned -this uniformity in our ways of speaking: and whether you will chuse to -consider the perceptive faculty as resulting only from habit, or allow -it the name of a _Sense_ of Beauty; whether these perceptions can, -or cannot, be resolved into some _general_ principle, imagination of -private advantage, or sympathy with others, are, in the present case, -circumstances wholly indifferent. - -If it be admitted that the epithets, of which we are speaking, were -originally used in this restrained sense, it is easy to see that they -would readily obtain the more _extended_ signification. For the species -of pleasure to which they were first confined, was found always to -arise from images impressed on the fancy: what then more natural, -than to apply the same words to every species of pleasure resulting -from the imagination, and to every species of images productive of -pleasure? Thus the _beauty_ of a human person might originally signify -such combinations of figure and colour, as produced the _peculiar_ -perception above-mentioned. _Pulchritudo corporis_ (says Cicero) _aptâ -compositione membrorum movet oculos, et eo ipso delectat, &c._—But -from this signification to the other the transition was easy and -obvious. If every beautiful form gave pleasure, every pleasing form -might come to be called beautiful: not because the same perceptions -are excited by _all_ (the pleasures being apparently different) but -because they are all excited in the same manner. And this is confirmed -by a distinction which every one understands between beauties of the -_regular_ and _irregular_ kind. When we would distinguish these from -each other, we call the latter _agreeable_, and leave to the former -only the name of _beautiful_: that is, we confine the latter term to -its proper and original sense.—In much the same manner objects _not -visible_ may sometimes obtain the name of beauty, for no other reason -than because the imagination is agreeably employed about them; and we -may speak of a beautiful _character_, as well as a beautiful _person_: -by no means intending that we have the same _feeling_ from the one as -the other, but that in both cases we are _pleased_, and that in both -the _imagination_ contributes to the pleasure. - -Now as every _representative art_ is capable of affording us pleasure, -and this pleasure is occasioned by images impressed on the fancy; -every pleasing production of art, will of course obtain the name -of beautiful. Yet this hinders us not from considering beauty as a -_distinct_ excellence in such productions. For we may distinguish, -either in a picture or poem, between the pleasures we receive directly -from the imitation of _visible forms_, and those which principally -depend on _other_ kinds of imitation: And we may consider visible forms -themselves either as _occasions_ of pleasure, in _common_ with other -objects; or as yielding us that _peculiar_ delight which they alone are -capable of yielding. If we use the word _beautiful_ in this _limited_ -sense, it is very intelligibly opposed to _pathetic_. Images of Groves, -Fields, Rocks and Water, afford us a pleasure extremely different -from that which we find in the indulgence of our _tender affections_: -nor can there be any danger of confounding the agreeable perception -received from a masterly statue of an Apollo or a Venus, with that -which arises from a representation of the _terrors_ men feel under a -storm or a plague. - -It is no objection to what has been said, that the objects we call -_beautiful_ may also in some cases be occasions of _passion_. The -sight, for instance, of a beautiful person may give birth to the -passion of Love: yet to perceive the beauty and to feel the passion are -two different things. For every beautiful object does not produce love -in every observer, and the same passion is sometimes excited by objects -not beautiful; I mean not called beautiful by the persons themselves -who are affected by them. And the distinction between these feelings, -would receive further confirmation (if indeed there could be any doubt -of it) from observing that people frequently speak of beauty, and as -far as appears intelligibly, in persons of their _own sex_; who feel -perhaps no _passion_ but that of _envy_: which will not surely be -thought the same with the perception of _beauty_. - -There is then no room for an objection to the text of Horace, as -it stood before Dr. B.’s emendation: unless it should be thought an -impropriety to oppose two epithets which are _capable_ of being -understood in senses _not opposite_. But there is not the least ground -for this imagination. For when a word of uncertain signification is -_opposed_ to another whose signification is certain; the opposition -itself _determines_ the sense. The word _day_ in one of its senses -includes the whole space of twenty-four hours: yet it is not surely -an impropriety to oppose _day_ to _night_.—In like manner the words -_pulchra poëmata_, if we were not directed by the context, might -signify _good poems_ in general: but when the beauty of a poem is -_distinguished_ from other excellences, this distinction will lead -us to confine our idea to _beautiful imagery_; and, we know it is -agreeable to the sentiments which Horace expresses in other places, -to declare that this kind of merit is _insufficient_ in _dramatic_ -writers, from whom we expect a pleasure of very different kind. Indeed -the most exquisite painting, if it is not constantly subordinate to -this higher end, becomes not only insufficient, but _impertinent_: -serving only to divert the attention, and interrupt the course of the -passions. - -It may seem perhaps that the force of a _Latin_ expression cannot be -ascertained from reflections of this sort, but must be gathered from -citations of particular passages. And this indeed is true with regard -to the _peculiarities_ of the language. But the question before us -is of a different kind. It is a question of _Philosophy_ rather than -_Criticism_: as depending on those differences of ideas, which are -marked by similar forms of expression in _all_ languages.” - - * * * * * - -102. SI VIS ME FLERE, DOLENDUM EST PRIMUM IPSI TIBI:] _Tragedy_, as[13] -one said, who had a heart to feel its tenderest emotions, _shewed forth -the ulcers that are covered with tissue_. In order to awaken and call -forth in the spectator all those sympathies, which naturally await on -the lively exhibition of such a scene, the writer must have a soul -_tuned_ to the most exquisite sensibility, and susceptible of the same -vibrations from his own created images, which are known to _shake_ the -sufferer in real life. This is so uncommon a pitch of humanity, that -’tis no wonder, so few have succeeded in this _trying_ part of the -drama. Euripides, of all the ancients, had most of this sympathetic -tenderness in his nature, and accordingly we find him without a rival -in this praise. Τραγικώτατος τῶν ποιητῶν, says Aristotle of him [Περὶ -ποιητ. κ. ιγʹ.] and to the same purpose another great critic, _In -affectibus cum omnibus mirus, tum in iis, qui_ MISERATIONE _constant, -facile præcipuus_. [Quinct. l. x. c. i.] They, who apply themselves to -express the _pitiable_ ἐλεεινὸν in tragedy, would do well to examine -their own hearts by this rule, before they presume to practise upon -those of others. See, further, this remark applied by Cicero to the -subject of oratory, and inforced with his usual elegance and good -sense. [l. ii. c. xlv. _De oratore._] - - * * * * * - -103. TUNC TUA ME INFORTUNIA LAEDENT.] This is expressed with accuracy. -Yet the truth is, The more we are _hurt_ with representations of this -sort, the more we are _pleased_ with them. Whence arises this strange -_Pleasure_? The question hath been frequently asked, and various -answers have been given to it. - -But of all the solutions of this famous difficulty, that which we have -just now received from Mr. Hume, is by far the most curious. - - -His account in short is, “That the force of imagination, the energy -of expression, the power of numbers, the charms of imitation, are all -naturally of themselves delightful to the mind; that these sentiments -of beauty, being the _predominant_ emotions, seize the whole mind, and -convert the uneasy melancholy passions into themselves. In a word, that -the sentiments of _beauty_, excited by a good tragedy, are the superior -prevailing movements, and transform the subordinate impressions -arising from _grief_, _compassion_, _indignation_, and _terror_, into -one uniform and strong enjoyment.” [_See four Dissertations by_ D. -Hume, _Esq. p. 185, &c._] - - -I have but two objections to this ingenious theory. ONE is, that it -supposes the impression of grief or terror, excited by a well-written -tragedy, to be weaker than that which arises from our observation of -the faculties of the writer, the power of numbers, and imitation. Which -to me is much the same thing as saying, That the sight of a precipice -hanging over our heads makes a fainter impression on the eye, than -the shrubs and wild flowers with which it happens to be covered. The -fact is so far otherwise, that, if the tragedy be well-written, I will -venture to say, the faculties of the writer, the charms of poetry, or -even the thought of imitation, never come into the spectator’s head. -But he may feel the effect of them, it will be said, for all that. -True: But unluckily the whole effect of these things is (and that was -my OTHER objection) to deepen the impressions of grief and terror. They -are out of place, and altogether impertinent, if they contribute to any -other end. So that to say, The impression of grief and terror from a -tragic story, strong as it is in itself, and made still stronger by the -art of the poet, is a weaker impression, than the mere pleasure arising -from that _art_, is methinks to account for one mystery by another ten -times greater, and to make the poet a verier _magician_ than Horace -ever intended to represent him. - -This ingenious solution then, being so evidently founded on the -supposition of a _false fact_, deserves no further notice. As to the -_difficulty_ itself, the following hints may, perhaps, enable the -reader, in some measure, to account for it. - -1. It is not to be doubted but that we love to have our _attention_ -raised, and our _curiosity_ gratified. So far the ABBÉ DU BOS’ system -may be admitted. - -2. The representation, however distressful, is still seen to be a -representation. We find our hearts affected, and even pained, by a -good tragedy. But we instantly recollect that the scene is fictitious; -and the _recollection_ not only abates our uneasiness, but diffuses a -secret joy upon the mind in the discovery we make that the _occasion_ -of our uneasiness is not real. Just as our awaking from a frightful -dream, and sometimes a secret consciousness of the illusion during -the dream itself, is attended with pleasure. That so much of M. DE -FONTENELLE’S notion must be admitted, is clear, because children, who -take the sufferings on the stage for realities, are so afflicted by -them that they don’t care to repeat the experiment. - -But still, all this is by no means a full account of the matter. For, - -3. It should be considered, that ALL the uneasy Passions, in the -very time that we are distressed by them, nay, though the occasions -be instant and real, have a secret complacency mixed with them. It -seems as if Providence, in compassion to human feeling, had, together -with our sorrows, infused a kind of balm into the mind, to temper and -qualify, as it were, these bitter ingredients. But, - -4. Besides this _general_ provision, the nature of the _peculiar_ -passions, excited by tragedy, is such as, in a more eminent degree, -must produce pleasure. For what are these, but indignation at -prosperous vice, or the commiseration of suffering virtue? And the -agitation of these passions is even, in real life, accompanied with a -certain delight, which was, no doubt, intended to quicken us in the -exercise of those social offices. Still further. - -5. To the pleasure _directly_ springing from these passions we may -add another which naturally, but imperceptibly almost steals in upon -us from _reflexion_. We are conscious to our own humanity on these -tender occasions. We understand and feel that it is _right_ for us -to be affected by the distresses of others. Our pain is softened by -a secret exultation in the rectitude of these sympathies. ’Tis true, -this reflex act of the mind is prevented, or suspended at least for a -time, when the sufferings are real, and concern those for whom we are -most interested. But the fictions of the stage do not press upon us so -closely. - -Putting all these things together, the conclusion is, That though the -impressions of the theatre are, in their immediate effect, painful to -us, yet they must, on the whole, afford an extreme pleasure, and that -in proportion to the degree of the first painful impression. For not -only our attention is rouzed, but our moral instincts are gratified; we -reflect with joy that they are so, and we reflect too that the sorrows -which call them forth and give this exercise to our humanity, are but -fictitious. We are occupied, in a word, by a _great_ event; we are -melted into tears by a _distressful_ one; the heart is relieved by this -burst of sorrow; is cheared and animated by the finest moral feelings; -exults in the consciousness of its own sensibility; and finds, in -conclusion, that the whole is but an illusion. - -The sum is, that we are not so properly delighted _by_ the Passions, -as _through_ them. They give _occasion_ to the most pleasing movements -and gratulations. The art of the poet indeed consists in giving _pain_. -But nature and reflexion fly to our relief; and though they do not -convert our pain into joy (for that methinks would be little less than -a new kind of _Transubstantiation_) they have an equivalent effect in -producing an exquisite joy out of our preceding sorrows. - - * * * * * - -119. AUT FAMAM SEQUERE, &c.] The connexion lies thus: _Language_ must -agree with _character_; _character_ with _fame_, or at least with -_itself_. - - * * * * * - -123. SIT MEDEA FEROX INVICTAQUE.] Horace took this instance from -Euripides, where the _unconquered fierceness_ of this character is -preserved in that due mediocrity, which nature and just writing -demand. The poet, in giving her character, is content to say of her, - - Βαρεῖα γὰρ φρὴν οὐδ’ ἀνέξεται κακῶς - Πάσχους’ - -And - - Δεινὴ γάρ. οὖ τοι ῥᾳδίως γε συμβαλὼν - Ἐχθράν τις αὐτῇ, καλλίνικον οἴσεται. - -And she herself, when opening to the chorus her last horrid purpose, -says, fiercely indeed, but not frantically: - - Μηδείς με φαύλην κᾀσθενῆ νομιζέτω - Μηδ’ ἡσυχαίαν. - -And this is _nature_, which Seneca not perceiving, and yet willing to -write up to the critic’s rule, hath outraged her character beyond all -bounds, and, instead of a resolute, revengeful woman, hath made of her -a downright fury. Hence her passion is wrought up to a greater height -in the very first scene of the Latin play, than it ever reaches in the -Greek poet. The tenor of her language throughout is, - - _invadam deos, - Et cuncta quatiam_. - -And hence, in particular, the third and fourth acts expose to our view -all the horrors of sorcery (and those too _imaged_ to an extravagance) -which Euripides, with so much better judgment, thought fit entirely to -conceal. - - * * * * * - -126. SERVETUR AD IMUM QUALIS AB INCEPTO PROCESSERIT, ET SIBI CONSTET.] -The rule is, as appears from the reason of the thing, and from -Aristotle, “Let an _uniformity_ of character be preserved, or at least -a _consistency_:” i. e. either let the manners be exactly the same -from the beginning to the end of the play, as those of Medea, for -instance, and Orestes; or, if any change be necessary, let it be such -as may consist with, and be easily reconciled to, the manners formerly -attributed; as is seen in the case of Electra and Iphigenia. We should -read then, it is plain, - - _servetur ad imum - Qualis ab incepto processerit_, AUT _sibi constet_. - -The mistake arose from imagining, that a character could no other way -_consist_ with itself, but by being _uniform_. A mistake however, -which, as I said, not the reason of the thing only, but Aristotle’s -rule might have set right. It is expressed thus: Τέταρτον δὲ τὸ ὁμαλόν. -Κᾂν γὰρ ἀνώμαλός τις ᾖ, ὁ τὴν μίμησιν παρέχων καὶ τοιοῦτον ἦθος -ὑποτιθεὶς, ὅμως ὁμαλῶς ἀνώμαλον δεῖ εἶναι. Ποιητ. κ. ιεʹ. which last -words, having been not at all understood, have kept his interpreters -from seeing the true sense and scope of the precept. For they have been -explained of such characters, as that of _Tigellius_ in Horace; which, -however proper for satyr, or for farcical comedy, are of too fantastic -and whimsical a nature to be admitted into tragedy; of which Aristotle -must there be chiefly understood to speak, and to which Horace, in -this place, alone confines himself. “’Tis true, indeed, it may be said, -that though a _whimsical_ or _fantastic_ character be improper for -tragedy, an _irresolute_ one is not. Nothing is finer than a struggle -between different passions; and it is perfectly natural, that in such -a circumstance, each should prevail by turns.” But then there is the -widest difference between the two cases. _Tigellius_, with all his -fantastic irresolution, is as _uniform_ a character as that of _Mitio_. -If the expression may be allowed, its very _inconsistency_ is of the -essence of its _uniformity_. On the other hand, Electra, torn with -sundry conflicting passions, is most apparently, and in the properest -notion of the word, _ununiform_. One of the strongest touches in her -character is that of a high, heroic spirit, sensible to her own, and -her family’s injuries, and determined, at any rate, to revenge them. -Yet no sooner is this revenge perpetrated, than she softens, relents, -and pities. Here is a manifest _ununiformity_, which can, in no proper -sense of the expression lay claim to the critic’s ὁμαλὸν, but may be so -managed, by the poet’s skill, as to become consistent with the basis or -foundation of her character, that is, to be ὁμαλῶς ἀνώμαλον. And that -this, in fact, was the meaning of the critic, is plain from the similar -example to his own rule, given in the case of Iphigenia: which he -specifies (how justly will be considered hereafter) as an instance of -the ἀνωμάλου, _irregular_, or _ununiform_, character, ill-expressed, -or made _inconsistent_. So that the genuine sense of the precept is, -“Let the manners be uniform; or, if ununiform, yet consistently so, or -uniformly ununiform:” exactly copied, according to the reading, here -given by Horace. Whereas in the other way, it stands thus: “Let your -characters be uniform, or unchanged; or, if you paint an ununiform -character (such as Tigellius) let it be ununiform all the way; _i. e._ -such an irregular character to the end of the play, as it was at the -beginning; which is, in effect, to say, let it be _uniform_:” which -apparently destroys the latter part of the precept, and makes it an -unmeaning tautology with the former. - - * * * * * - -127. AUT SIBI CONSTET.] The ELECTRA and IPHIGENIA of Euripides have -been quoted, in the preceding note, as instances of _ununiform_ -characters, justly sustained, or what Aristotle calls, _uniformly -ununiform_: And this, though the general opinion condemns the one, -and the great critic himself, the other; the reader will expect some -account to be given of this singularity. - - -1. The objection to Electra, is, that her character is drawn with -such heightenings of implacability and resentment, as make it utterly -incredible, she should, immediately on the murder of Clytæmnestra, fall -into the same excess of grief and regret, as Orestes. In confutation -of this censure I observe, 1. That the objection proceeds on a mistaken -presumption, that the distress of Electra is equally violent with that -of Orestes. On the contrary, it is discriminated from it by two plain -marks. 1. Orestes’s grief is expressed in stronger and more emphatic -terms—_he accuses the Gods—he reproaches his sister—he dwells upon -every horrid circumstance, that can inhance the guilt of the murder_. -Electra, in the mean time, _confesses the scene to be mournful—is -apprehensive of bad consequences—calmly submits to the just reproaches -of her brother_. 2. He labours as much as possible, to clear himself -from the imputation of the act. She takes it wholly on herself, but, -regarding it rather as her fate, than her fault, comforts herself in -reflecting on the justice of it. - - πατρὸς δ’ ἔτισας φόνον δικαίως. - Act v. - -This last circumstance puts the widest difference between the two -cases. The one shews a perfect distraction of mind, which cannot even -bear the consciousness of its crimes: the other, a firm and steddy -spirit, sensible indeed to its misery, but not oppressed or astonished -by it. - - -2. But this measure of grief, so delicately marked, and, with such -truth of character, ascribed to Electra, ought not, it is further -insisted, to have shewn itself, immediately, on the murder of -Clytæmnestra. But why not? There is nothing in the _character of -Electra_, _the maxims of those times_, or _in the disposition of the -drama itself_, to render this change improper or incredible. On the -contrary, there is much under each of these heads, to lead one to -expect it. - -1. _Electra’s character_ is indeed that of a fierce, and determined, -but withal of a generous and virtuous woman. Her motives to revenge -were, principally, a strong sense of justice, and superior affection -for a father; not a rooted, unnatural aversion to a mother. She acted, -as appears, not from the perturbation of a tumultuous revenge (in -that case indeed the objection had been of weight) but from a fixed -abhorrence of wrong, and a virtuous sense of duty. And what should -hinder a person of this character from being instantly touched with the -distress of such a spectacle? - -2. _The maxims of those times also favour this conduct._ For, 1. The -notions of strict remunerative justice were then carried very high. -This appears from the _Lex talionis_, which, we know, was in great -credit in elder Greece; from whence it was afterwards transferred into -the Law of the XII Tables. Hence _blood for blood_ [αἷμα δ’ αἵματος -δανεισμὸς,—as the messenger, in his account of the death of Ægysthus, -expresses it, Act iv.] was the command and rule of justice. This the -Chorus, as well as the parricides, frequently insist upon, as the -ground and justification of the murder. 2. This severe vengeance on -enormous offenders was believed, not only consonant to the rules of -_human_, but to be the object, and to make the especial care of the -_divine_, justice. And thus the ancients conceived of this very case. -_Juvenal_, speaking of Orestes, - - _Quippe ille_ DEIS AUCTORIBUS _ultor - Patris erat cæsi media inter pocula_. - Sat. viii. - -And to this opinion agrees that tradition, or rather fiction, of the -poets, who, though they represent the judges of the Areopagus as -divided in their sentiments of this matter, yet make no scruple of -bringing in Minerva herself to pronounce his absolution. _Hoc etiam -fictis fabulis doctissimi homines memoriæ prodiderunt, eum, qui patris -ulciscendi causâ matrem necavisset, variatis hominum sententiis, non -solum divinâ, sed etiam sapientissimæ Deæ sententiâ absolutum_ [CIC. -pro MILON.] The venerable council of Areopagus, when judging by the -severe rules of _written_ justice, it seems, did not condemn the -criminal; and the _unwritten_ law of equity, which the fable calls -the _wisdom of Pallas_, formally _acquitted_ him. The murder then was -not against _human_, and directly agreeable to the determinations of -_divine_, justice. Of this too the Chorus takes care to inform us: - - Νέμει τοι δίκαν θεὸς ὅταν τύχῃ. - Act. iv. - -This explains the reason of Electra’s question to Orestes, who had -pleaded the impiety of murdering a mother, - - Καὶ μὲν ἀμύνων πατρὶ, δυσσεβὴς ἔσῃ; - -the force of which lies in this, that a father’s death revenged upon -the guilty mother, was equally _pious_ as just. 3. This vengeance was, -of course, to be executed by the nearest relations of the deceased. -This the law prescribed in judicial prosecutions. Who then so fit -instruments of fate, when that justice was precluded to them? This is -expressed, in answer to the plea of Orestes, that he should suffer the -vengeance of the Gods for the murder of his mother; Electra replies, - - Τῷ δαὶ πατρῴαν διαμεθῇς τιμωρίαν; - -i. e. Who then shall repay vengeance to our father? She owns the -consequence, yet insists on the duty of incurring it. There was no -other, to whom the right of vengeance properly belonged. - -4. Further the pagan doctrine of fate was such, that, in order to -discharge duty in one respect, it was unavoidable to incur guilt, in -another. This was the case here, Phœbus commanded and fate had decreed: -yet obedience was a crime, to be expiated by future punishment. This -may seem strange to us, who have other notions of these matters, but -was perfectly according to the pagan system. The result is, that they -knowingly exposed themselves to vengeance, in order to fulfil their -fate. All that remained was to lament their destiny, and revere the -awful and mysterious providence of their Gods. And this is, exactly, -what Orestes pleads, in vindication of himself, elsewhere: - - Ἀλλ’ ὡς μὲν οὐκ εὖ, μὴ λεγ’, εἴργασται τάδε, - Ἡμῖν δὲ τοῖς δράσασιν οὐκ εὐδαιμόνως. - Orest. Act. ii. - -5. Lastly, it should be remembered, how heinous a crime adultery -was esteemed in the old world; when, as well as murder, we find -it punished with death. The law of the XII Tables expressly says, -ADVLTERII CONVICTAM VIR ET COGNATI, VTI VELINT, NECANTO. Now, all these -considerations put together, Electra might assist at the assassination -of her mother, consistently with the strongest feelings of piety and -affection. That these then should instantly break forth, so soon as the -debt to justice, to duty, and to fate was paid, is nothing wonderful. -And this, by the way, vindicates the Chorus from the inconsistency, -by some charged upon it, in condemning the act, when done, which -before they had laboured to justify. The common answer, “That the -Chorus follows the character of the people,” is insufficient. For -(besides that the Chorus always sustains a moral character) whence that -inconsistency in the people themselves? The reason was, the popular -creed of those times. It had been an omission of duty to have declined, -it was criminal to execute, the murder. - -3. The disposition of the drama (whether the most judicious, or -not, is not the question) was calculated to introduce this change -with the greatest probability. Electra’s principal resentment was -to Ægysthus. From him chiefly proceeded her ill treatment, and from -him was apprehended the main danger of the enterprize. Now, Ægysthus -being taken off in the beginning of the preceding act, there was time -to indulge all the movements and gratulations of revenge, which the -objection supposes should precede, and for a while suspend the horrors -of remorse, before they come to the murder of Clytæmnestra. This is -rendered the more likely by the long parley, that goes before it; which -rather tends to soften, than exasperate, her resentments, and seems -artfully contrived to prepare the change, that follows. - -On the whole, Electra’s concern, as managed by the poet, is agreeable -to the tenor of her character, and the circumstances of her situation. -To have drawn her otherwise, had been perhaps in the taste of modern -tragedy, but had certainly been beside the line of nature, and practice -of the ancients. - -II. The case of Iphigenia, though a greater authority stand in the way, -is still easier. Aristotle’s words are, τοῦ δὲ ἀνωμάλου [παράδειγμα] -ἡ ἐν Αὐλίδι Ἰφιγένεια. Οὐδὲν γὰρ ἔοικεν ἡ ἱκετεύουσα τῇ ὑστέρᾳ, i. e. -“Iphigenia is an instance of the inconsistent character: for there is -no probable conformity betwixt her fears and supplications at first, -and her firmness and resolution afterwards.” But how doth this appear, -independently of the name of this great critic? Iphigenia is drawn -indeed, at first, fearful and suppliant: and surely with the greatest -observance of nature. The account of her destination to the altar was -sudden, and without the least preparation; and, as Lucretius well -observes, in commenting her case, NUBENDI TEMPORE IN IPSO; when her -thoughts were all employed, and, according to the simplicity of those -times, confessed to be so, on her promised nuptials. The cause of such -destination too, as appeared at first, was the private family interest -of Menelaus. All this justifies, or rather demands, the strongest -expression of female fear and weakness. “But she afterwards recants -and voluntarily devotes herself to the altar.” And this, with the -same strict attention to probability. She had now informed herself of -the importance of the case. Her devotement was the demand of Apollo, -and the joint petition of all Greece. The glory of her country, the -dignity and interest of her family, the life of the generous Achilles, -and her own future fame, were, all, nearly concerned in it. All this -considered, together with the high, heroic sentiments of those times, -and the superior merit, as was believed, of voluntary devotement, -Iphigenia’s character must have been very unfit for the distress of -a whole tragedy to turn upon, if she had not, in the end, discovered -the readiest submission to her appointment. But, to shew with what -wonderful propriety the poet knew to sustain his characters, we find -her, after all, and notwithstanding the heroism of the change, in a -strong and passionate apostrophe to her native Mycenæ, confessing some -involuntary apprehensions and regrets, the remains of that instinctive -abhorrence of death, which had before so strongly possessed her. - - Ἔθρεψας Ἑλλάδι μέγα φάος— - θανοῦσα δ’ οὐκ ἀναίνομαι. - - Once the bright star of Greece— - But I submit to die. - -This, I take to be not only a full vindication of the consistency of -Iphigenia’s character, but as delicate a stroke of nature, as is, -perhaps, to be found in any writer. - -After the writing of this note, I was pleased to find, that so sensible -a critic, as P. Brumoi, had been before me in these sentiments -concerning the character of Iphigenia. The reasons he employs, are -nearly the same. Only he confirms them all by shewing, that the -Iphigenia of Racine, which is modelled, not according to the practice -of Euripides, but the Comment of Aristotle, is, in all respects, so -much the worse for it. In justice to this ingenious writer, it should -be owned, that he is almost the only one of his nation, who hath -perfectly seen through the foppery, or, as some affect to esteem it, -the refinement of French manners. This hath enabled him to give us, in -his _Théatre des Grecs_, a masterly and very useful view of the Greek -stage; set forth in all its genuine simplicity, and defended on the -sure principles of nature and common sense. - - * * * * * - -128. DIFFICILE EST PROPRIE COMMUNIA DICERE: Lambin’s Comment is -_Communia hoc loco appellat Horatius argumenta fabularum à nullo -adhuc tractata: et ita, quæ cuivis exposita sunt et in medio -quodammodo posita, quasi vacua et à nemine occupata_. And that this -is the true meaning of _communia_ is evidently fixed by the words -_ignota indictaque_, which are explanatory of it: so that the sense, -given it in the commentary, is unquestionably the right one. Yet, -notwithstanding the clearness of the case, a late critic hath this -strange passage: _Difficile quidem esse proprie communia dicere, hoc -est, materiam vulgarem, notam, et è medio petitam ita immutare atque -exornare, ut nova et scriptori propria videatur, ultro concedimus; et -maximi proculdubio ponderis ista est observatio. Sed omnibus utrinque -collatis, et tum difficilis, tum venusti, tam judicii quam ingenii -ratione habita, major videtur esse gloria fabulam formare penitus -novam, quam veterem, utcunque mutatam, de novo exhibere._ [Poet. Præl. -v. ii. p. 164.] Where having first, put a wrong construction on the -word _communia_, he imploys it to introduce an impertinent criticism. -For where does the poet prefer the glory of refitting _old_ subjects, -to that of inventing new ones? The contrary is implied in what he urges -about the superior difficulty of the latter; from which he dissuades -his countrymen, only in respect of their abilities and inexperience in -these matters; and in order to cultivate in them, which is the main -view of the Epistle, a spirit of correctness, by sending them to the -old subjects, treated by the Greek writers. - - * * * * * - -131. PUBLICA MATERIES PRIVATI JURIS ERIT, &c.] _Publica materies_ -is just the reverse of what the poet had before stiled _communia_; -the latter meaning such subjects or characters, as, though by their -nature left in common to all, had yet, in fact, not been _occupied_ -by any writer—the former those, which had already been made _public_ -by _occupation_. In order to acquire a property in subjects of this -sort, the poet directs us to observe the three following cautions: 1. -_Not to follow the trite, obvious round of the original work_, i. e. -not servilely and scrupulously to adhere to its plan or method. 2. -_Not to be translators, instead of imitators_, i. e. if it shall be -thought fit to imitate more expressly any part of the original, to do -it with freedom and spirit, and without a slavish attachment to the -mode of expression. 3. _Not to adopt any particular incident, that may -occur in the proposed model, which either decency or the nature of the -work would reject._ M. Dacier illustrates these rules, which have been -conceived to contain no small difficulty, from the Iliad; to which the -poet himself refers, and probably not without an eye to particular -instances of the errors, here condemned, in the Latin tragedies. For -want of these, it may be of use to fetch an illustration from some -examples in our own. And we need not look far for them. Almost every -modern play affords an instance of one or other of these faults. The -single one of Catiline by B. Jonson is, itself, a specimen of them all. -This tragedy, which hath otherwise great merit, and on which its author -appears to have placed no small value, is, in fact, the Catilinarian -war of Sallust, put into poetical dialogue, and so offends against the -_first_ rule of the poet, _in following too servilely the plain beaten -round of the Chronicle_. 2. Next, the speeches of Cicero and Catiline, -of Cato and Cæsar are, all of them, direct and literal translations -of the historian and orator, in violation of the _second_ rule, which -forbids _a too close attachment to the mode, or form of expression_. -3. There are several transgressions of that rule, which injoins _a -strict regard to the nature and genius of the work_. One is obvious -and striking. In the history, which had, for its subject, the whole -Catilinarian war, the fates of the conspirators were distinctly to be -recorded, and the preceding debates, concerning the manner of their -punishment, afforded an occasion, too inviting to be overlooked by an -historian, and above all a republican historian, of embellishing his -narration by set harangues. Hence the long speeches of Cæsar and Cato -in the senate have great propriety, and are justly esteemed among the -leading beauties of that work. But the case was totally different in -the drama; which, taking for its subject the single fate of Catiline, -had no concern with the other conspirators, whose fates at most should -only have been hinted at, not debated with all the circumstance and -pomp of rhetoric on the stage. Nothing can be more flat and disgusting, -than this calm, impertinent pleading; especially in the very heat -and winding up of the plot. But the poet was misled by the beauty it -appeared to have in the original composition, without attending to the -peculiar laws of the drama, and the _indecorum_ it must needs have in -so very different a work. - - * * * * * - -136. NEC SIC INCIPIES, UT SCRIPTOR CYCLICUS OLIM:] All this [to v. 153] -is a continuation of the poet’s advice, given above, - - _Rectius Iliacum carmen deducis in actus - Quam si proferres ignota indictaque primus_. - -For, having first shewn in what respects a close observance of the epic -form would be vicious in tragedy, he now prescribes how far it may be -usefully admitted. And this is, 1. [from 136 to 146] in the simplicity -and modesty of the exordium; and, 2. [to v. 153] in the artificial -method and contexture of the piece. 1. The reason of the former rule is -founded on the impropriety of raising a greater expectation, at setting -out, than can afterwards be answered by the sequel of the poem. But, -because the epic writers themselves, from whom this conduct was to be -drawn, had sometimes transgressed this rule, and as the example of such -an error would be likely to infect, and, in all probability, actually -did infect, the tragic poets of that time, he takes occasion, 1. to -criticize an absurd instance of it; and, 2. to oppose to it the wiser -practice of Homer. - -2. The like conduct he observes under the second article. For, being -to recommend to the tragic writer such an artificial disposition -of his subject, as _hastens rapidly to the event_, and rejects, as -impertinent, all particulars in the round of the story, which would -unnecessarily obstruct his course to it—a plan essentially necessary -to the legitimate epic—he first glances at the injudicious violation -of this method in a certain poem on _the return of_ Diomed, and then -illustrates and lays open the superior art and beauty of the Iliad. And -all this, as appears, for the sole purpose of explaining and enforcing -the precept about forming the plots of tragedies from epic poems. -Whence we see, how properly the examples of the errors, here condemned, -are taken, not from the _drama_, as the less attentive reader might -expect, but solely from the epos; for, _this_ being made the object -of imitation to the dramatic poet, as the tenor of the place shews, -it became necessary to guard against the influence of bad models. -Which I observe for the sake of those, who, from not apprehending the -connection of this and such like passages in the epistle, hastily -conclude it to be a confused medley of precepts concerning the art of -poetry, in general; and not a regular well-conducted piece, uniformly -tending to lay open the state, and to remedy the defects, of the Roman -stage. - - * * * * * - -148. SEMPER AD EVENTUM FESTINAT; &c.] The disposition, here recommended -to the poet, might be shewn _universally_ right from the clearest -principles. But the propriety and beauty of it will, perhaps, be best -apprehended by such, as are unused to the more abstract criticism, -from attending to a _particular_ instance. Let us conceive an objector -then to put the following query: “Supposing the author of the Æneis -to have related, in the natural order, the destruction of Troy, would -not the subject have been, to all intents and purposes, as much _one_, -as it is under its present form; in which that event is told, in the -second book, by way of episode?” I answer by no means. The reason -is taken from _the nature of the work_, and from _the state and -expectations of the reader_. - -1. The _nature of an epic or narrative poem_ is this, that it lays the -author under an obligation of shewing any event, which he formally -undertakes in his own person, at full length, and with all its material -circumstances. Every figure must be drawn in full proportion, and -exhibited in strong, glowing colours. Now had the subject of the second -book of the Æneis been related, in this extent, it must not only have -taken up one, but many books. By this faithful and animated _drawing_, -and the time it would necessarily have to _play_ upon the imagination, -the event had grown into such importance, that the remainder could only -have passed for a kind of Appendix to it. - -2. The same conclusion is drawn from considering _the state of the -reader_. For, hurried away by an instinctive impatience, he pursues the -proposed event with eagerness and rapidity. So circumstantial a detail, -as was supposed, of an intermediate action not necessarily connected -with it, breaks the course of his expectations, and throws forward the -point of view to an immoderate distance. In the mean time the action, -thus interposed and presented to his thoughts, acquires by degrees, and -at length ingrosses his whole attention. It becomes the important theme -of the piece; or, at least, what follows sets out with the disadvantage -of appearing to him, as a new and distinct subject. - -But now being related by way of episode, that is, as a succinct, -summary narration, not made by the poet himself, but coming from the -mouth of a person, necessarily ingaged in the progress of the action, -it serves for a short time to interrupt, and, by that interruption to -sharpen, the eager expectation of the reader. It holds the attention, -for a while, from the main point of view; yet not long enough to -destroy that impatient curiosity, which looks forward to it. And thus -it contributes to the same end, as a piece of miniature, properly -introduced into a large picture. It amuses the eye with something -relative to the painter’s design, yet not so, as to with-hold its -principal observation from falling on the greater subject. The parallel -will not hold very exactly, because the painter is, of necessity, -confined to the same _instant_ of time; but it may serve for an -illustration of my meaning. Suppose the painter to take, for his -subject, that part of Æneas’s story, where, with his _penates_, his -_father_, and his _son_, he is preparing to set sail for Italy. To -draw _Troy in flames_, as a constituent part of this picture, would be -manifestly absurd. It would be painting two subjects, instead of one. -And perhaps _Troja incensa_ might seize the attention before - - _Ascanium Anchisenque patrem Teucrosque penates_. - -But a distant perspective of _burning Troy_ might be thrown into a -corner of the piece, that is, episodically, with good advantage; where, -instead of distracting the attention, and breaking the unity of the -subject, it would concenter, as it were, with the great design, and -have an effect in augmenting the distress of it. - - * * * * * - -153. TU, QUID EGO ET POPULUS, &c.] The connexion is this. “But though -the strict observance of these rules will enable the poet to conduct -his _plot_ to the best advantage, yet this is not _all_ which is -required to a _perfect_ tragedy. If he would seize the attention, -and secure the applause, of the audience, something further must be -attempted. He must (to return to the point, from which I digressed, v. -127) be particularly studious to express the _manners_. Besides the -peculiarities of _office_, _temper_, _condition_, _country_, &c. before -considered, all which require to be drawn with the utmost fidelity, a -singular attention must be had to the characteristic differences of -_age_.” - - _Ætatis cujusque notandi sunt tibi mores._ - -The reason of this conduct is given in the commentary. It further -serves to adorn this part of the epistle [which is wholly preceptive -from v. 89 to 202] with those beautiful pourtraitures of human life, -in its several successive stages, which nature and Aristotle had -instructed him so well to paint. - - * * * * * - -157. MOBILIBUSQUE DECOR NATURIS DANDUS ET ANNIS.] MOBILIBUS] _non -levibus aut inconstantibus, sed quæ variatis ætatibus immutantur_. -Lambin. NATURIS] By this word is not meant, simply, that instinctive -_natural_ biass, implanted in every man, to this or that character, -but, in general, _nature_, as it appears diversified in the different -periods of life. The sense will be: A certain _decorum_ or propriety -must be observed in painting the natures or dispositions of men varying -with their years. - -There is then no occasion for changing the text, with Dr. Bentley, into - - _Mobilibusque decor, maturis dandus et annis_. - - * * * * * - -179. AUT AGITUR RES IN SCENIS, AUT ACTA REFERTUR: &c.] The connexion -is this. The _misapplication_, just now mentioned, destroys the -_credibility_. This puts the poet in mind of another misconduct, which -hath the same effect, viz. _intus digna geri promere in scenam_. -But, before he makes this observation, it was proper to premise a -_concession_ to prevent mistakes, viz. - - _Segnius irritant animos_, &c. - - * * * * * - -182. NON TAMEN INTUS DIGNA GERI PROMES IN SCENAM:] I know not a more -striking example of the transgression of this rule, than in Seneca’s -Hippolytus; where Theseus is made to weep over the mangled members -of his son, which he attempts to put together on the stage. This, -which has so horrid an appearance in the _action_, might have been so -contrived, as to have an infinite beauty in the _narration_; as may be -seen from a similar instance in Xenophon’s Cyropædia, where Panthea is -represented putting together the torn limbs of Abradates. - - * * * * * - -185. NE PUEROS CORAM POPULO, &c.] Seneca, whom we before [v. 123] -saw so sollicitous to keep up to one rule of Horace, here makes no -scruple to transgress another. For, in violation of the very letter -of this precept, and of all the laws of decency and common sense, he -represents Medea butchering her children in the face of the people; -and, as if this too faintly painted the fury of her character, he -further aggravates the cruelty of the execution, with all the horrors -of a lingering act. This, seemingly inconsistent, conduct of the poet -was, in truth, owing to one and the same cause, namely, “The endeavour -to sustain Medea’s character.” For, wanting true taste to discern the -exact boundaries, which nature had prescribed to the human character, -or true genius to support him in a due preservation of it, he, as all -bad writers use, for fear of doing too little, unfortunately does too -much; and so, as Shakespear well expresses it, _o’ersteps the modesty -of nature_, inflating her _sentiments_ with extravagant passion, and -blackening her _acts_ with circumstances of unnatural horror. Though -some of these faults I suspect he only copied. For, to say nothing of -_that_ of Ennius, Ovid’s Medea was, at this time, very famous, and -as, I think, may be collected from the judgment passed upon it by -Quinctilian, had some of the vices, here charged upon Seneca. _Ovidii -Medea_, says he, _videtur mihi ostendere, quantum vir ille præstare -potuerit, si ingenio suo temperare, quàm indulgere, maluisset_. It -is not possible indeed to say exactly, wherein this _intemperance_ -consisted; but it is not unlikely, that, amongst other things, it might -shew itself in the sorceries and incantations; a subject, intirely -suited to the wildness of Ovid’s genius; and which, as appears from -his relation of this story in the metamorphosis, he knew not how to -treat without running into some excess and luxuriance in that part. But -whether this were the cause, or no, the very treating a subject, which -had gone through such hands, as Euripides, Ennius, and Ovid, was enough -to expose a writer of better judgment, than Seneca, to some hazard. -For, in attempting to outdo originals, founded on the plan of simple -nature, a writer is in the utmost danger of running into affectation -and bombast. And indeed, without this temptation, our writers have -generally found means to incur these excesses; the very best of them -being too apt to fill their plots with unnatural incidents, and to -heighten their characters into caracatures. Though it may be doubted, -whether this hath been owing so much to their own ill taste, as to -a vicious compliance with that of the public; for, as one says, who -well knew the expediency of this craft, and practised accordingly, _to -write unnatural things is the most probable way of pleasing them who -understand not nature_. [Dryd. Pref. to Mock Astrol.] - - * * * * * - -193. ACTORIS PARTES CHORUS, &c.] See also _Aristotle_ [περ. ποιητ. -κ. ιηʹ.] The judgment of two such critics, and the practice of wise -antiquity concurring to establish this precept concerning the Chorus, -it should thenceforth, one would think, have become a fundamental rule -and maxim of the stage. And so indeed it appeared to some few writers. -The most admired of the French tragic poets ventured to introduce it -into two of his latter plays, and with such success, that, as one -observes, _It should, in all reason, have disabused his countrymen -on this head: l’essai heureux de M. Racine, qui les [chœurs] a fait -revivre dans_ ATHALIE _et dans_ ESTHER, _devroit, ce semble, nous -avoir detrompez sur cet article_. [P. Brumoi, vol. i. p. 105.] And, -before him, our _Milton_, who, with his other great talents, possessed -a supreme knowledge of antiquity, was so struck with its use and -beauty, as to attempt to bring it into our language. His _Sampson -Agonistes_ was, as might be expected, a master-piece. But even his -credit hath not been sufficient to restore the Chorus. Hear a late -Professor of the art declaring, _De choro nihil disserui, quia non -est essentialis dramati, atque à neotericis penitus_, ET, ME JUDICE, -MERITO, REPUDIATUR. [Præl. Poet. vol. ii. p. 188.] Whence it hath come -to pass, that the chorus hath been thus neglected, is not now the -inquiry. But that this critic, and all such are greatly out in their -judgments when they presume to censure it in the ancients, must appear -(if we look no further) from the double use, insisted on by the poet. -For, 1. A _chorus_ interposing, and bearing a part in the progress -of the action, gives the representation that _probability_[14], and -striking resemblance of real life, which every man of sense perceives -and _feels_ the want of upon our stage; a want, which nothing but such -an expedient as the chorus can possibly relieve. And, 2. The importance -of its other office [v. 196] to the _utility_ of the representation, -is so great, that, in a moral view, nothing can compensate for this -deficiency. For it is necessary to the truth and decorum of characters, -that the _manners_, bad as well as good, be drawn in strong, vivid -colours, and to that end that immoral sentiments, forcibly expressed -and speciously maintained, be sometimes _imputed_ to the speakers. -Hence the sound philosophy of the chorus will be constantly wanting -to rectify the wrong conclusions of the audience, and prevent the ill -impressions that might otherwise be made upon it. Nor let any one -say, that the audience is well able to do this for itself: Euripides -did not find even an Athenian theatre so quick-sighted. The story is -well known [Sen. Ep. 115.] that when this painter of the _manners_ was -obliged, by the rules of his art, and the character to be sustained, -to put a run of bold sentiments in the mouth of one of his persons, -the people instantly took fire, charging the poet with the _imputed_ -villany, as though it had been his _own_. Now if such an audience could -so easily misinterpret an attention to the truth of character into the -real doctrine of the poet, and this too, when a chorus was at hand -to correct and disabuse their judgments, what must be the case, when -the _whole_ is left to the sagacity and penetration of the people? -The wiser sort, ’tis true, have little need of this information. Yet -the reflexions of sober sense on the course and occurrences of the -representation, clothed in the noblest dress of poetry, and inforced -by the joint powers of _harmony_ and _action_ (which is the true -character of the chorus) might make it, even to such, a not unpleasant -or unprofitable entertainment. But these _two_ are a small part of the -_uses_ of the chorus: which in every light is seen so important to the -truth, decorum, and dignity of the tragic scene, that the _modern_ -stage, which hath not thought proper to adopt it, is even, with the -advantage of, sometimes, the justest moral painting and sublimest -imagery, but a very faint shadow of the _old_; as must needs appear -to those, who have looked into the ancient models, or, divesting -themselves of modern prejudices, are disposed to consult the dictates -of plain sense. For the use of such I once designed to have drawn into -one view the several important benefits, arising to the drama from -the observance of this rule, but have the pleasure to find myself -prevented by a sensible dissertation of a good French writer, which the -reader will find _in the_ VIII _Tom. of the history of the Academy of -Inscriptions and Belles Lettres_.—Or, it may be sufficient to refer -the English Reader to the late tragedies of ELFRIDA and CARACTACUS; -which do honour to modern poetry, and are a better apology, than any I -could make, for the ancient chorus. - - * * * * * - -193. OFFICIUMQUE VIRILE] Heinsius takes _virile_ adverbially for -_viriliter_. But this is thought harsh. What hinders, but that it may -be taken _adjectively_? And then, agreeably to his interpretation, -_officium virile_ will mean a strenuous, diligent office, such as -becomes a person interested in the progress of the action. The precept -is leveled against the practice of those poets, who, though they allot -the part of a _persona dramatis_ to the _chorus_, yet for the most part -make it so idle and insignificant an one, as is of little consequence -in the representation: by which means the advantage of _probability_, -intended to be drawn from this use of the _chorus_, is, in great -measure, lost. - - * * * * * - -194. NEU QUID MEDIOS INTERCINAT ACTUS, QUOD NON PROPOSITO CONDUCAT -ET HAEREAT APTE.] How necessary this advice might be to the writers -of the Augustan age cannot certainly appear; but, if the practice of -Seneca may give room for any suspicion, it should seem to have been -much wanted; in whom I scarcely believe there is one single instance -of the chorus being employed in a manner, consonant to its true end -and character. To support this general censure, which may seem to bear -hard on the poet, let us examine, in this view, one of the best of his -plays, I mean, the Hippolytus; whose chorus, throughout, bears a very -idle and uninteresting part—hath no share in the action—and sings -impertinently. - -At the end of the _first_ act, when Phædra had avowed her passion -for Hippolytus, instead of declaiming against her horrid purpose, -enlarging on the danger and impiety of giving way to unnatural lusts, -or something of this nature, which was surely the office of the chorus, -it expatiates wantonly, and with a poetic luxuriance, on the sovereign, -wide-extended powers of love. - -In the close of the _second_ act, instead of applauding the virtuous -obstinacy of Hippolytus, and execrating the mad attempt of Phædra, it -coolly sings the danger of beauty. - -The _third_ act contains the false accusation of Hippolytus, and the -too easy deception of Theseus. What had the chorus to do here, but -to warn against a too great credulity, and to commiserate the case -of the deluded father? Yet it declaims, in general, on the unequal -distribution of _good_ and _ill_. - -After the _fourth_ act, the chorus should naturally have bewailed the -fate of Hippolytus, and reverenced the mysterious conduct of Providence -in suffering the cruel destiny of the innocent. This, or something like -it, would have been to the purpose. But, as if the poet had never heard -of this rule of _coherence_, he harangues, in defiance of common sense, -on the instability of an high fortune, and the security of a low. - -It will further justify this censure of _Seneca_, and be some amusement -to the critical reader, to observe, how the several blunders, here -charged upon him, arose from an injudicious imitation of _Euripides_. - -I. There are two places in the Greek Hippolytus, which Seneca seems to -have had in view in his first chorus. We will consider them both. - -1. When the unhappy Phædra at length suffers the fatal secret of her -passion to be extorted from her, she falls, as was natural, into all -the horrors of self-detestation, and determines not to survive the -confession of so black a crime. In this conjuncture, the _nutrix_, who -is not drawn, as in modern tragedy, an unmeaning confidante, the mere -depositary of the poet’s secrets, but has real manners assigned to -her, endeavours, with the highest beauty of character, to divert these -horrid intentions, and mitigate in some sort the guilt of her passion, -by representing to her the resistless and all-subduing force of love. -“Venus, says this virtuous _monitrix_, is not to be withstood, when she -rushes upon us with all her power. Nor is any part of creation vacant -from her influence. She pervades the air, and glides through the deeps. -We, the inhabitants of the earth, are all subject to her dominion. -Nay, ask of the ancient bards, and they will tell you, that the Gods -themselves are under her controul.” And so goes on, enumerating -particular examples, from all which she infers at last the necessity of -Phædra’s yielding to her fate. Again, - -2. Towards the close of the Greek play, when, upon receiving the -tragical story of his son’s sufferings, Theseus began to feel his -resentments give way to the workings of paternal affection, and, on -that account, though he was willing to conceal the true motive, even -from himself, had given orders for the dying Hippolytus to be brought -before him, the chorus very properly flings out into that fine address -to Venus, - - Σὺ τὰν θεῶν ἄκαμπτον φρένα, &c. - -the substance of which is, “That Venus, with her swift-winged boy, who -traverses the earth and ocean, subdues the stubborn hearts of Gods -and men: inspiring into all, on whom her influence rests, whether -inhabitants of the land or deep, and more especially the race of man, a -soft and sympathizing tenderness; demonstrating hereby, that she alone -extends her all-controuling dominion over universal nature.” This -song, as thus connected with the occasion, is apparently very proper, -and, when reduced from the pomp of lyric eloquence to plain prose, is -only an address of congratulation to the powers of love; confessing and -celebrating their influence, in thus softening the rigors of a father’s -hate, and awakening in his breast the soft touches of returning pity -and affection. - -Now these two places, taken together, are plainly the ground-work of -that song, - - _Diva, non miti generata ponto_, &c. - -but how improperly applied, has appeared, in respect of the latter -of them, from what has been observed concerning the _occasion_; and -must be acknowledged of the other, from the different _character_ of -the person to whom it is given; and also from hence, that the chorus -in the Greek poet expressly condemns the impiety of such suggestions -in the nurse, and admonishes Phædra not to lend an ear to them. The -chorus, when it comes to sing in him, is far otherwise employed; not in -celebrating the triumphs, but deprecating the pernicious fury of this -passion, and in lamenting the fatal miscarriages of Hymeneal love. - -II. The second song, on the graces of the prince’s person, and the -danger of beauty, which follows on the abrupt departure of Hippolytus, -rejecting, with a virtuous disdain, the mad attempts of Phædra and her -confidante, is so glaringly improper, as not to admit an excuse from -any example. And yet, I am afraid, the single authority, it has to -lean on, is a very short hint, slightly dropped by the chorus in the -Greek poet on a very different occasion. It is in the entrance of that -scene, where the mangled body of Hippolytus is brought upon the stage; -on the sight of which the chorus very naturally breaks out, - - Καὶ μὲν ὁ τάλας ὅδε δὴ στείχει - Σάρκας νεαρὰς - Ξανθόν τε κάρα διαλυμανθείς. - -and yet, as the reader of just taste perceives, nothing beyond a single -reflexion could have been endured even here. - -III. The next song of the chorus may seem directly copied from -Euripides. Yet the two occasions will be found extremely different. -In Seneca, Theseus, under the conviction of his son’s guilt, inveighs -bitterly against him, and at last supplicates the power of Neptune to -avenge his crimes. The chorus, as anticipating the effects of this -imprecation, arraigns the justice of the Gods. In the Greek poet, the -father, under the like circumstances, invokes the same avenging power, -and, as some immediate relief to his rage, pronounces the sentence -of banishment, and urges the instant execution of it, against him. -Hippolytus, unable to contend any longer with his father’s fury, breaks -out into that most tender complaint (than which nothing was ever more -affecting in tragedy) - - Ἄρηρεν, ὡς ἔοικεν, ὦ τάλας ἐγώ. &c. - -containing his last adieu to his country, companions, and friends. The -chorus, touched with the pathos of this apostrophe, and commiserating -his sad reverse of fortune, enters with him into the same excess -of lamentation, and, as the first expression of it, lets fall this -natural sentiment, “That though from coolly contemplating the divine -superintendency of human affairs, there results abundant confidence -and security against the ills of life, yet when we look abroad into -the lives and fortunes of men, that confidence is apt to fail us, -and we find ourselves discouraged and confounded by the promiscuous -and undistinguishing appointments of _good_ and _ill_.” This is the -thought, which Seneca hath imitated, and, as his manner is, outraged in -his chorus of the third act: - - _O magna parens, Natura, Deûm_, &c. - -But the great difference lies here. That, whereas in _Euripides_ this -sentiment is proper and agreeable to the state and circumstances of -the chorus, which is ever attentive to the progress of the action, and -is most affected by what immediately presents itself to observation; -in _Seneca_ it is quite foreign and impertinent; the attention of -the chorus naturally turning, not on the distresses of Hippolytus, -which had not yet commenced, but on the rashness and unhappy delusion -of Theseus, as being that, which had made the whole subject of the -preceding scene. But the consequence of that delusion, it will be said, -was obvious. It may be so. But the chorus, as any sensible spectator, -is most agitated by such reflexions, as occur to the mind from those -scenes of the drama, which are actually passing before it, and not from -those which have not yet taken place. - -IV. What was remarked of the _second_ song of the chorus will be -applicable to the _fourth_, which is absurdly founded on a single -reflexion in the Greek poet, but just touched in a couple of lines, -though much more naturally introduced. Theseus, plunged in the deepest -affliction by the immature death of Phædra, and not enduring the sight -of the supposed guilty author of it, commands him into banishment, -“Lest, as he goes on, his former triumphs and successes against the -disturbers of mankind, should in consequence of the impunity of such -unprecedented crimes, henceforth do him no honour.” The chorus, struck -with the distressful situation of the old king, and recollecting with -him the sum of his former glories, is made to exclaim, - - Οὐκ οἶδ’ ὅπως εἴποιμ’ ἂν εὐτυχεῖν τινα - Θνητῶν· τὰ γὰρ δὴ πρῶτ’ ἀνέστραπται πάλιν. - -i. e. _there is henceforth no such thing, as human happiness, when the -first examples of it are thus sadly reversed_. Which casual remark -Seneca seizes and extends through a whole chorus; where it visibly -serves to no other end, but to usurp a place, destined for far more -natural and affecting sentiments. - -If I have been rather long upon this head, it is because I conceive -this critique on the Hippolytus will let the reader, at once, into -the true character of _Seneca_; which, he now sees, is that of a mere -_declamatory moralist_. So little deserving is he of the reputation of -a just dramatic poet. - - * * * * * - -196. ILLE BONIS FAVEATQUE, &c.] _The chorus_, says the poet, _is to -take the side of the good and virtuous_, i. e. is always to sustain a -moral character. But this will need some explanation and restriction. -To conceive aright of its office, we must suppose the _chorus_ to -be a number of persons, by some probable cause assembled together, -as witnesses and spectators of the great action of the drama. Such -persons, as they cannot be wholly uninterested in what passes before -them, will very naturally bear some share in the representation. This -will principally consist in declaring their sentiments, and indulging -their reflexions freely on the several events and distresses as they -shall arise. Thus we see the _moral_, attributed to the chorus, will be -no other than the dictates of plain sense; such as must be obvious to -every thinking observer of the action, who is under the influence of -no peculiar partialities from _affection_ or _interest_. Though even -these may be supposed in cases, where the character, towards which they -_draw_, is represented as virtuous. - -A chorus, thus constituted, must always, it is evident, take the -part of virtue; because this is the natural and almost necessary -determination of mankind, in all ages and nations, when acting freely -and unconstrained. But then it is to be observed, - -1. That this moral character, or approbation of virtue, must also -be considerably influenced by the common and established notions of -_right_ and _wrong_; which, though in essential points, for the most -part, uniformly the same under all circumstances, yet will, in some -particular instances, be much distorted by the corrupt principles and -practices of different countries and times. Hence the _moral_ of the -stage will not be always strictly philosophical; as reflecting to us -the image not of the sage’s speculation, but, of the obvious sense of -common, untutor’d minds. The reader will find this observation applied -to the case of the _chorus_ in the Medea, in note on v. 200, and it -might further, perhaps, be extended to the vindication of some others, -to which the ignorant temerity of modern criticism hath taken occasion -to object. But, - -2. The _moral character_ of the chorus will not only depend very -much on the several mistaken notions and usages, which may happen, -under different circumstances, to corrupt and defile _morality_; but -allowance is also to be made for the _false policies_, which may -prevail in different countries; and especially if they constitute any -part of the subject, which the drama would represent. If the _chorus_ -be made up of free citizens, whether of a republic, or the milder -and more equal royalties, they can be under little or no temptation -to suppress or disguise their real sentiments on the several events, -presented to their observation; but will be at liberty to pursue their -natural inclination of speaking the truth. But should this venerable -assembly, instead of sustaining the dignity of free subjects, be, in -fact, a company of slaves, devoted by long use to the service and -interests of a master, or awed, by the dread of tyrannical power, -into an implicit compliance with his will, the baleful effect, which -this very different situation must have on their moral character, -is evident. Their opinions of persons and things will cease to be -oracular; and the interposition of the _chorus_ will be more likely -to injure the cause of virtue, than to assist and promote it. Nor can -any objection be made, on this account, to the conduct of the poet; -who keeps to nature and probability in drawing the chorus with this -imperfectly moral character; and is only answerable for his ill choice -of a subject, in which such a pernicious representation is required. -An instance will explane my meaning more perfectly. The chorus in -the _Antigone_, contrary to the rule of Horace, takes the side of -the _wicked_. It consists of a number of old Thebans, assembled by -the order of Creon to assist, or rather to be present, at a kind of -mock council; in which he meant to issue his cruel interdict of the -rites of sepulture to the body of Polynices; a matter of the highest -consequence in those days, and upon which the whole distress of the -play turns. This veteran troop of vassals enter at once into the -horrid views of the tyrant, and obsequiously go along with him in -the projects of his cruelty; calmly, and without the appearance of -any virtuous emotion, consenting to them all. The consequence is that -the interludes of the chorus are, for the most part, impertinent, or -something worse; cautiously avoiding such useful reflexions, as the -nature of the case must suggest, or indulging, by their flatteries, -the impotent tyranny of their prince. And yet no blame can be fairly -charged upon the great poet, who hath surely represented, in the most -striking colours, the pernicious character, which a chorus, under such -circumstances, would naturally sustain. The fault must therefore fall, -where the poet manifestly intended to throw it, on the accursed spirit -of despotism; which extinguishes, or over-rules, the suggestions of -common sense; kills the very seeds of virtue, and perverts the most -sacred and important offices, such as is that of the chorus, into the -means and instruments of vice. The glory, which he designed, by this -representation, to reflect upon the government and policy of his own -state, is too glaring to be overlooked. And he hath artfully contrived -to counter-act any ill impressions on the minds of the people, from the -prostituted authority of the chorus, by charging them, in the persons -of Hæmon and Antigone, with their real motives and views. In all -indifferent things, in which the passions or interests of their master -were not concerned, even this chorus would of course preserve a moral -character. But we are to look for it no further. This is the utmost -verge and boundary of a slave’s virtue. An important truth, which, -among many greater and more momentous instructions, furnishes this to -the dramatic poet, “That, if he would apply the chorus to the uses of a -sound and useful moral, he must take his subjects, not from the annals -of despotic tyranny, but from the great events, which occur in the -records of free and equal commonwealths.” - - * * * * * - -200. ILLE TEGAT COMMISSA] This important advice is not always easy to -be followed. Much indeed will depend on the choice of the subject, -and the artful constitution of the fable. Yet, with all his care, the -ablest writer will sometimes find himself embarrassed by the chorus. -I would here be understood to speak chiefly of the moderns. For the -ancients, though it has not been attended to, had some peculiar -advantages over us in this respect, resulting from the principles and -practices of those times. For, as it hath been observed of the ancient -epic muse, that she borrowed much of her state and dignity from the -false _theology_ of the pagan world, so, I think, it may be justly -said of the ancient tragic, that she has derived great advantages -of probability from its mistaken _moral_. If there be truth in this -reflexion, it will help to justify some of the ancient choirs, that -have been most objected to by the moderns. To give an instance or two, -and leave the curious reader to extend the observation at his leisure. - -I. In the Hippolytus of Euripides, the chorus, which is let into -Phædra’s design of killing herself, suffers this rash attempt to take -effect, rather than divulge the intrusted secret. This, to a modern -reader, seems strange; and we are ready to arraign the poet of having -allotted a very unfit and unbecoming part to his _chorus_, which, -in order to observe a _critical_, is thus made to violate a _moral_ -precept, or at least to sacrifice the more essential part of its -character to a punctilio of honour. But the case was quite otherwise. -This suicide of Phædra, which, on our stricter moral plan, is repugnant -to the plain rules of duty, was, in the circumstances supposed, fully -justified on the pagan system. Phædra had confessed the secret of her -criminal passion. By the forward zeal of her confident, her disgrace -is made known to Hippolytus; and thereby, as she conceives, rendered -notorious to the public. In this distress she had only one way to -vindicate her honour, and that was at the expence of her life. Rather -than bear the insupportable load of public infamy, she kills herself. -That this was a justifiable cause of self-murder in the eye of the -chorus is clear from the reason, there assigned, of her conduct, -manifestly in approbation of it. “Phædra, says the chorus, oppressed -and borne down by her afflictions, has recourse to this expedient of -suicide, - - τάν τ’ εὔδοξον ἀνθαιρουμένα - Φάμαν, ἀπαλλάσσουσά - Τ’ ἀλγεινὸν φρενῶν ἔρωτα. - -for the sake of her good fame, and in order to free herself from -the tortures of a cruel passion.” And how agreeable this was to the -pagan system, in general, let the reader collect from the following -testimonies in Cicero: _Si omnia fugiendæ turpitudinis adipiscendæque -honestatis causâ faciemus, non modo stimulos doloris, sed etiam -fulmina fortunæ contemnamus licebit: præsertim cum paratum sit illud -ex hesternâ disputatione perfugium. Ut enim, si, cui naviganti -prædones insequantur, Deus quis dixerit, Ejice te navi; præsto est, -qui excipiat_, &c. _omnem omittas timorem; sic, urgentibus asperis -et odiosis doloribus, si tanti non sint ut ferendi sint, quo sit -confugiendum vides._ [Tusc. Disp. l. ii. 26.] And, again, in the close -of the V^{th} disputation, _Mihi quidem in vita servanda videtur illa -lex, quæ in Græcorum conviviis obtinet: Aut bibat, inquit, aut abeat. -Et recte. Aut enim fruatur aliquis pariter cum aliis voluptate potandi; -aut, ne sobrius in violentiam vinolentorum incidat, ante discedat: sic_ -INJURIAS FORTUNÆ, QUAS FERRE NEQUEAS, DEFUGIENDO RELINQUAS. - -II. Another example may, I think, be fetched from the _Medea_. Scarcely -any thing has been more the subject of modern censure, than the -part, which the chorus is made to act in this tragedy. _Whence comes -it_, says M. Dacier, _that the chorus, which consists of Corinthian -women, is faithful to a stranger against their sovereign[15]?_ This -good Frenchman, it seems, thought it a kind of treason, even on the -stage, and where a moral character was to be sustained, to take part -against a tyrant. But he will further say, that the moral character -of the chorus was forfeited in thus concealing, and, in effect, -abetting the impious cruelties of Medea. _The laws of nature and of -God were transgressed in rendering this service to her._ All which is -very true, supposing the reader to judge of this matter by the purer -christian moral. But how will he prove this to be the case on the -received notions and practices of paganism? It appears, this critic -did not apprehend, what a moderate attention to ancient history and -manners might have taught him, that the violation of conjugal fidelity -was a crime of that high nature, as to deserve in the public opinion, -and to excuse, the severest vengeance of retaliation. This the laws -expresly allowed to the injuries of the husband. And, it is probable, -the wife might incline to think the reason of the case extended also -to her. What is certain is, that we find some of the deepest scenes -of horror, which ancient history furnishes, or ancient fiction could -paint, wrought up from the occasion of this neglect of conjugal -faith. And it is well observed by one, in speaking of the difference -between the ancient and modern stage, that what is now held the fit -subject of comic mirth and ridicule in christian theatres, was never -employed but to stir up the utmost horror and commiseration, on the -heathen. “We do not find, says this agreeable writer, any comedy in -so polite an author, as Terence, raised upon the violations of the -marriage-bed. The falsehood of the wife or husband has given occasion -to noble tragedies; but a Scipio and Lælius would have looked upon -incest or murder, to have been as proper subjects for comedy.” This -is strictly and precisely the truth. And, therefore, as the crimes of -incest or murder were believed deserving of the highest punishment -by the Pagans, and every good man was ready to interest himself in -seeing it inflicted[16]; so, in the case of the open violation of the -marriage-compact, the fiercest acts of revenge were justified in the -public opinion, and passed only for acts of strict justice. And for -this, if we wanted further authority, we have the express word of the -chorus. The Corinthian women do not barely consent to secrecy, in -virtue of an extorted oath or promise (though more might have been said -for this, than every reader is aware of) but in consequence of their -entire and full approbation of her intentions. For thus, in answer to -Medea’s petition to them, without the least reserve or hesitation, they -are made to reply, - - Δράσω τάδ’· ἐνδίκως γὰρ ἐκτίσῃ πόσιν - Μήδεια. - -_I will do it; for this revenge on a husband is just._ We see then the -chorus, in keeping the secret of Medea’s murders, was employed in its -great office of countenancing and supporting _salubrem justitiam_, -_wholesome justice_. And, therefore, the scholiast, with M. Dacier’s -leave, gave a fit and proper account of the matter (so far was it from -being _impious_ and _ridiculous_) in saying, _that the Corinthian women -being free_, i. e. not devoted to the service of Creon, by the special -duties of any personal attachment, _take the side of justice, as the -chorus is wont to do on other occasions_. The circumstance of their -_freedom_ is properly mentioned. For this distinguishes their case -from that of the _nutrix_, who upon receiving the account of Jason’s -cruelties, cries out, - - Ὄλοιτο μὲν μὴ, δεσπότης γάρ ἐστ’ ἐμὸς, - Ἀτὰρ κακός γ’ ὢν εἰς φίλους ἁλίσκεται. - -And that the chorus enter’d into Medea’s designs against her husband, -the tyrant Creon, and her rival, on reasons of justice and equity only, -and not (as is hastily believed by some, who have not enough attended -to the decorum of the ancient tragedy) for the sake of forwarding the -poet’s plot, may be certainly shewn. For when, in the fury of her -resentments, and as the full completion of her revenge, the mother -comes to propose the murder of her innocent children, the chorus starts -with horror at the thought, dissuades her from it in the most earnest -and affecting manner[17], and seems to have concealed the dreadful -secret only from the persuasion, that it was too horrid and unnatural -to be perpetrated. The reader will collect this with pleasure, by -turning to the fine song, which follows. It may be further observed, -that Medea herself, in opening this last purpose of her rage to the -chorus, exacts fidelity of them only, _as they wished well to an -injured queen, and were women_; - - Εἴπερ φρονεῖς εὖ δεσπόταις, γυνή τ’ ἔφυς. - -which is beautifully contrived by the poet, to discriminate the two -cases, and to intimate to us, that reasons of justice were now no -longer to be pleaded. - -In sum, though these acts of severe avenging justice might not be -according to the express letter of the laws, or the more refined -conclusions of the PORCH or ACADEMY; yet there is no doubt, that they -were, in the general account, esteemed fit and reasonable. And, it -is to be observed, in order to pass a right judgment on the ancient -chorus, that, though in virtue of their office, they were obliged -universally to sustain a moral character; yet this moral was rather -political and popular, than strictly legal or philosophic. Which is -also founded on good reason. The scope and end of the ancient theatre -being to serve the interests of virtue and society, on the principles -and sentiments, already spread and admitted amongst the people, and not -to correct old errors, and instruct them in philosophic truth. - - * * * * * - -202. TIBIA NON, UT NUNC, ORICHALCO, &c.] [from v. 202 to v. 220.] This -is one of those many passages in the epistle, about which the critics -have said a great deal, without explaining any thing. In support of -what I mean to offer, as the true interpretation, I observe, - -That the poet’s intention certainly was, not to censure the _false_ -refinements of their stage-music; but, in a short digressive history -(such as the didactic form will sometimes require) to describe -the rise and progress of the _true_. This I collect, 1. From _the -expression itself_; which cannot, without violence, be understood in -any other way. For, as to the words _licentia_ and _præceps_, which -have occasioned much of the difficulty, the _first_ means a _freer -use_, not a _licentiousness_, properly so called; and the _other_ only -expresses a vehemence and rapidity of language, naturally productive of -a quicker elocution, such as must of course attend the more numerous -harmony of the lyre:—not, as M. Dacier translates it, _une eloquence -temeraire et outrée_, an extravagant straining and affectation of -style. 2. From _the reason of the thing_; which makes it incredible, -that the music of the theatre should then be most complete, when the -times were barbarous, and entertainments of this kind little encouraged -or understood. 3. From _the character of that music itself_; for the -rudeness of which, Horace, in effect, apologizes in defending it only -on the score of the imperfect state of the stage, and the simplicity of -its judges. But what shall we say then to those lines, - - _Indoctus quid enim saperet liberque laborum, - Rusticus urbano confusus, turpis honesto?_ - -which seem to imply a censure on these Improvements, as unworthy the -approbation of _wise_ men; contrary to what I have just now supposed to -be the scope of this whole passage. - -On the strictest attention, I believe we are to understand them as a -_Sneer_, in passing, on what grave and philosophic men have observed -of these refinements, which they constantly treat, as _Corruptions_. -See note on v. 218. But the mixed auditories of these days, says the -poet with his usual _badinage_, were not so _wise_. ’Tis, as if he had -said, “What I mention here as an improvement in dramatic music is, in -the ideas and language of some grave men, an abuse and perversion of -it to immoral purposes. It may be so: but consider, for what sorts of -people these theatrical entertainments were designed: for the _ignorant -clown and citizen, the plebeian and gentleman_, huddled together into -one confused mass, and crowding to the theatre, on a holyday, for some -relief from their ordinary toils and occupations. And alas, what do -these men know, or consider of this austere _wisdom_? - -But the cast of the whole passage is, besides, such as favours the -supposition of an intended Irony. Hence the _Tibia non, ut nunc, -orichalco vincta_, &c. delivered in the usual tone of declaimers -against modern manners. Hence the epithets, _frugi castusque -verecundusque_, to denote the quality of those who assisted, of old, at -these _virtuous_ entertainments. And hence the enormity of that state -of things, when the people were afterwards permitted to regale on holy -days, _impune_. This intention too accounts for the terms _licentia_, -_luxuries_, _facundia_, _præceps_, and others, which being of ambiguous -interpretation, the poet purposely chose, to mimic, and humour, as -it were, the objectors in their favourite language on this occasion. -Till at last, impatient to continue the raillery any further, he -concludes at once with an air of solemnity very proper to confound the -impertinence of such criticism. - - Utiliumque sagax rerum, et divina futuri - Sortilegis non discrepuit sententia Delphis. - -All this the reader sees is agreeable to the poet’s _prescription_ -elsewhere, - - —Sermone opus est tristi, sæpe _jocoso_. - -and indeed to his own _practice_ on an hundred occasions. So that on -the whole there is little doubt of his intention in the lines, - - Indoctus quid enim _saperet_, &c. - -At least, in this view the poet, I am apt to think, will be found -intelligible and even elegant. Whereas, on any other supposition of his -numerous commentators, I cannot see that the verses before us (as they -here stand) have either propriety or common sense.” - -The interpretation then of this whole passage, from v. 202 to 220, -will stand thus. “The Tibia, says the poet, was at first _low_ and -_simple_. The _first_, as best agreeing to the _state of the stage_, -which required only a soft music to go along with, and assist the -chorus; there being no large and crowded theatres to _fill_ in those -days. And the _latter_, as suiting best to the _state of the times_; -whose simplicity and frugal manners exacted the severest temperance, as -in every thing else, so, in their dramatic ornaments and decorations. -But, when conquest had enlarged the territory, and widened the walls -of Rome; and, in consequence thereof, a social spirit had dispelled -that severity of manners, by the introduction of frequent festival -solemnities; then, as was natural to expect, a freer and more varied -harmony took place. Nor let it be objected that this _freer harmony_ -was itself an abuse, a corruption of the severe and _moral_ music -of ancient times. Alas! we were not as yet so _wise_, to see the -inconveniencies of this improvement. And how should we, considering -the nature and end of these theatrical entertainments, and the sort of -men of which our theatres were made up? But, leaving the Philosopher -to speculate at his ease, on this matter, thus, in _fact_, it was, -“that the _Tibicen_, the musician, who played to the declamation in -the acts, instead of the rude and simpler strain of the old times, -gave a richness and variety of tone; and, instead of the old inactive -posture, added the grace of motion to his art. Just in the same -manner, continues he, it happened to the _Lyre_, i. e. _the music in -the chorus_, which originally, as that of the _Tibia_, was severe -and simple; but, by degrees, acquired a quicker and more expressive -modulation, such as corresponded to the more elevated and passionate -turn of the poet’s style, and the diviner enthusiasm of his sentiment.” -All that is further wanting to support and justify this interpretation, -will be found in the notes on particular passages. - - * * * * * - -203. TENUIS SIMPLEXQUE, &c.] It may here be observed of the manner, -in which the poet hath chosen to deliver this whole part [from v. 202 -to 295] that, besides its other uses, it tends directly to convey -to his readers, and impress upon them in the strongest manner, the -principal instruction, he has in view, and with which the epistle more -expresly concludes, _viz. The uses and importance of a spirit of -critical application_. For, in speaking of the _stage music_, of the -_satyrs_, and the _Greek tragedy_ (all which come naturally in his -way, and are very artfully connected) he chuses to deduce the account -of each from its ruder and less polished original; tracing it through -its several successive stages, and marking out to us the gradual -polish and refinement, which it acquired from increasing diligence and -correctness. The _Tibia_ at first was _simple_ and _rude_—The _satyrs -naked_ and _barbarous_—and the _Greek tragedy itself deformed and -shapeless_ in the cart of Thespis. Care and attention reformed each. It -follows, - - _Nil intentatum nostri liquere poetæ, &c._ - -_i. e._ our poets have not been wanting in their attempts to excel in -these several particulars. What is necessary to their success is, _limæ -labor et mora_. If the reader bear this in mind, it will help him to -see the order and scope of this part more distinctly. - - * * * * * - -204. ASPIRARE ET ADESSE CHORIS, &c.] _Chorus_ here means the whole -dramatic performance, which was originally nothing else. - - * * * * * - -206. UTPOTE PARVUS, ET FRUGI CASTUSQUE VERECUNDUSQUE, &c.] M. _Dacier_ -finds here _four_ causes _of the little regard the ancients had -for plays_ [he should have said, of their being satisfied with the -_Tibia_, all rude and simple as is here described] _la premiere, que -le peuple Romain étoit encore alors en petit nombre: la seconde, qu’il -étoit sage: la troisiéme, qu’il étoit chaste, c’est à dire pieux: et -la quatriéme, qu’il étoit modeste_. But the three last epithets are -synonymous, all of them expressing what, though he took three guesses -for it, he had the ill fortune to miss at last, _that plainness and -simplicity_ of character, _that frugal reserve and moderation in -the use of any thing_, which so essentially belongs to rude minds, -uninstructed in the arts of life. His _four_ causes are, in fact, then -but two; which have been fully considered in note on v. 202. - - * * * * * - -211. ACCESSIT NUMERISQUE MODISQUE LICENTIA MAJOR.] M. _Dacier_ takes -_licentia major_ in a bad sense, as implying _lasciveté_, _a culpable -and licentious refinement_. But the _licence_, here spoken of, with -regard to _numbers_ and _sounds_, like that in another place, which -respects _words_ [l. 51.] is one of those, which is allowed, when -_sumpta pudenter_. The comparative _major_, which is a _palliative_, -shews this; and is further justified by a like passage in _Cicero_, -_De Oratore_ [l. iii. c. 48.] where speaking of this very licence -in poetry, he observes, that out of the Heroic and Iambic measure, -which were at first strictly observed, there arose by degrees the -Anapæst, _procerior quidam numerus, et ille licentior et divitior -Dithyrambus_; evidently not condemning this change, but opposing it -to the rigorous and confined measure of the elder poets. But the -expression itself occurs in the piece entitled _Orator_, in which, -comparing the freedoms of the poetical and oratorial style, _in ea_ [i. -e. _poetica_] says he, _licentiam statuo majorem esse, quam in nobis, -faciendorum jungendorumque verborum_. The poet says, this _licence_ -extended _numeris modisque_, the former of which words will express -that _licence of metre_, spoken of by _Cicero_, and which is further -explained v. 256, _&c._ where an account is given of the improvement of -the Iambic verse. - - * * * * * - - 214. SIC PRISCAE, — — — ARTI - TIBICEN, &c. - SIC ETIAM FIDIBUS, &c.] - -This is the application of what hath been said, in general, concerning -the refinement of theatrical music to the case of _tragedy_. Some -commentators say, and to _comedy_. But in this they mistake, as will -appear presently. M. _Dacier_ hath, I know not what conceit about -a comparison betwixt the _Roman_ and _Greek_ stage. His reason is, -_that the lyre was used in the Greek chorus, as appears_, he says, -_from Sophocles playing upon this instrument himself in one of his -tragedies_. And was it not used too in the Roman chorus, as appears -from Nero’s playing upon it in several tragedies? But the learned -critic did not apprehend this matter. Indeed from the caution, with -which his guides, the dealers in antiquities, always touch this point, -it should seem, that they too had no very clear conceptions of it. -The case I take to have been this: The _Tibia_, as being most proper -to accompany the declamation of the acts, _cantanti succinere_, was -constantly employed, as well in the Roman tragedy as comedy. This -appears from many authorities. I mention only two from Cicero. _Quam -multa_ [Acad. l. ii. 7.] _quæ nos fugiunt in cantu, exaudiunt in eo -genere exercitati: Qui, primo inflatu Tibicinis, Antiopam esse aiunt -aut Andromacham, cum nos ne suspicemur quidem._ The other is still more -express. In his piece, entitled _Orator_, speaking of the negligence -of the Roman writers, in respect of _numbers_, he observes, _that -there were even many passages in their tragedies, which, unless the_ -TIBIA _played to them, could not be distinguished from mere prose_: -_quæ, nisi cum Tibicen accesserit, orationi sint solutæ simillima_. -One of these passages is expresly quoted from _Thyestes_, a tragedy -of _Ennius_; and, as appears from the measure, taken out of one of -the acts. It is clear then, that the _Tibia_ was certainly used in -the _declamation_ of tragedy. But now the song of the tragic chorus, -being of the nature of the ode, of course required _Fides_, the lyre, -the peculiar and appropriated instrument of the lyric Muse. And this -is clearly collected, if not from express testimonies; yet from some -occasional hints dropt by the ancients. For, 1. the lyre, we are -told, [Cic. De Leg. ii. 9. & 15.] and is agreed on all hands, was an -instrument of the Roman theatre; but it was not employed in comedy. -This we certainly know from the short accounts of the music prefixed to -Terence’s plays. 2. Further, the _Tibicen_, as we saw, accompanied the -declamation of the acts in tragedy. It remains then, that the proper -place of the lyre was, where one should naturally look for it, in the -songs of the chorus; but we need not go further than this very passage -for a proof. It is unquestionable, that the poet is here speaking of -the chorus only; the following lines not admitting any other possible -interpretation. By _Fidibus_ then is necessarily understood the -instrument peculiarly used in it. Not that it need be said that the -_Tibia_ was never used in the chorus. The contrary seems expressed in -a passage of Seneca, [Ep. lxxxiv.] and in Julius Pollux [l. iv. 15. § -107.] ’Tis sufficient, if the _lyre_ was used solely, or principally in -it, at this time. In this view, the whole digression is more pertinent -and connects better. The poet had before been speaking of tragedy. -All his directions, from l. 100. respect this species of the drama -only. The application of what he had said concerning music, is then -most naturally made, 1. to the _Tibia_, the music of the acts; and, 2. -to _Fides_, that of the choir: thus confining himself, as the tenor -of this part required, to tragedy only. Hence is seen the mistake, -not only of M. Dacier, whose comment is in every view insupportable; -but, as was hinted, of Heinsius, Lambin, and others, who, with more -probability, explained this of the Roman comedy and tragedy. For -though _Tibia_ might be allowed to stand for comedy, as opposed to -_Tragœdia_, [as in fact, we find it in l. ii. Ep. 1. 98.] that being -the only instrument employed in it; yet, in speaking expresly of the -music of the stage, _Fides_ could not determinately enough, and in -contradistinction to _Tibia_, denote that of tragedy, it being an -instrument used solely, or principally in the chorus; of which, the -context shews, he alone speaks. It is further to be observed, that, in -the application here made, besides the music, the poet takes in the -other improvements of the tragic chorus, these happening, as from the -nature of the thing they would do, at the same time. - - * * * * * - -214. SIC PRISCAE MOTUMQUE ET LUXURIEM.] These two words are employed -to express that _quicker movement_, and _richer modulation_ of the new -music; the peculiar defects of the _old_ being, 1. That it moved too -slowly, and, 2. That it had no compass or variety of notes. It was that -_movement_, that velocity and vehemence of the music, which Roscius -required to have slackened in his old age. - - * * * * * - -215. TRAXITQUE VAGUS PER PULPITA VESTEM.] This expresses not only the -improvement arising from the ornament of proper dresses, but from the -grace of motion: not only the _actor_, whose peculiar office it was, -but the _minstrel_ himself, as appears from hence, conforming his -gesture in some sort to the music. - -Of the use and propriety of these gestures, or dances, it will not be -easy for us, who see no such things attempted on the modern stage, -to form any very clear or exact notions. What we cannot doubt of is, -1. That the several theatrical dances of the ancients were strictly -conformable to the genius of the different species of composition, to -which they were applied. 2. That, therefore, the tragic dance, which -more especially accompanied the chorus, must have been expressive of -the highest gravity and decorum, tending to inspire ideas of what is -_becoming, graceful_, and _majestic_; in which view we cannot but -perceive the important assistance it must needs lend to virtue, and -how greatly it must contribute to set all her graces and attractions -in the fairest light. 3. This idea of the ancient tragic dance, is not -solely formed upon our knowledge of the conformity, beforementioned; -but is further collected from the name, usually given to it, which was -Ἐμμέλεια. This word cannot well be translated into our language; but -expresses all that grace and concinnity of motion, which the dignity -of the choral song required. 4. Lastly, it must give us a very high -notion of the moral effect of this dance, when we find the severe Plato -admitting it into his commonwealth. - - * * * * * - -216. SIC ETIAM FIDIBUS VOCES, &c.] He is here speaking of the great -improvement in the tragic chorus, after the Roman conquests, when the -Latin writers began to enquire - - _Quid Sophocles et Thespis et Æschylus utile ferrent_. - -This improvement consisted, 1. In a more instructive moral sentiment: -2. In a more sublime and animated expression; which of course produced, -3. A greater vehemence in the declamation: to which conformed, 4. -A more numerous and rapid music. All these particulars are here -expressed, but, as the reason of the thing required, in an inverted -order. The music of the lyre (that being his subject, and introducing -the rest) being placed first; the declamation, as attending that, next; -the language, _facundia_, that is, the subject of the declamation, -next; and the sentiment, _sententia_, the ground and basis of the -language, last. - - _Et tulit eloquium insolitum facundia præceps._ - -literally, “A vehemence and rapidity of language produced an unusual -vehemence and rapidity of elocution in the declaimer!” This “rapidity -of language,” is exactly the same, as that Cicero speaks of in -Democritus and Plato, [_Orat._ 638. _Elz._] which, because of its quick -and rapid movement, _quod incitatius feratur_, some critics thought -to be poetical. _Unaccustomed_, we may observe, is indifferently a -_censure_ or _encomium_, according as the preceding state of the thing -spoken of was _wrong_, or _right_. Much the same may be concluded of -_præceps_; its _literal_ sense is a degree of _motion_ in any thing -above what it had before. This may be _excessive_, or otherwise, as it -chances: When applied to _the bleak East wind, dispersing a flight of -bees, and dashing them on the stream_, - - _si forte morantes - Sparserit, aut præceps Neptuno immerserit Eurus_. - Virg. Georg. iv. 29. - -the epithet implies _excess_; but when spoken of the _gentle South, -whose strongest gale is but sufficient to drive the willing ship to -port_, [Æn. vii. 410.] _Præcipiti delata Noto_, it then only expresses -_due measure_. - -As for the criticism from Quintilian, who opposes _præcipitia_ to -_sublimibus_, it is doubly impertinent: 1. As the sense is necessarily -fixed by its opposition to _sublimibus_: and 2. As the word is here -used, not as implying _motion_, but _height_, in which view its sense -is _absolute_, and always denotes _excess_. - - * * * * * - -218. UTILIUMQUE SAGAX RERUM, ET DIVINA FUTURI, SORTILEGIS NON -DISCREPUIT SENTENTIA DELPHIS.] It is amazing that these two lines -should ever have been misunderstood as a censure, the import of them -being highly _encomiastic_, yet with great exactness declaring the -specific boast and excellence of the chorus; which lay, as Heinsius -hath well observed, 1. In inculcating important moral lessons; and 2. -In delivering useful presages and monitions concerning future conduct, -with an almost oracular prudence and authority. - - SIC PRISCAE — — — — ARTI. - -What hath chiefly misled the Critics in their explanation of this -place, I suspect to have been the frequent encomiums on the severity -of the ancient music, by the Greek and Latin writers. Though here -they seem to have overlooked two very material considerations: 1. -That the _former_ have chiefly treated the subject in a _moral_ or -_political_ view, and therefore preferred the ancient music only as -it was conceived to influence the public manners. For this reason -Plato, one of the chief of those _encomiasts_, applauds, as we find, -the practice of Ægypt, in suffering no change of her poetry, but -continuing, to his time, her fondness for the _Songs of Isis_ [De Leg. -l. ii. sub. init.] which just as much infers the perfection of those -songs, considered in a critical view, as Rome’s sticking to her _Saliar -verses_ would have shewn those poor, obscure orisons to have exceeded -the regular odes and artificial compositions of Horace. And it was this -kind of criticism which, as I suppose, the poet intended to expose -in the famous verses, which I explain in note on v. 202. 2. That the -_latter_, the principal of them at least, who talk in the same strain, -lived under the Emperors; in whose time, indeed, music had undergone -a miserable prostitution, _being broken_, as one of the best of those -writers complains, _into an effeminate and impure delicacy_—_In -scenis effeminata et impudicis modis fracta_, [Quint. I. l. x.] As -to the times in question, I know but of one passage, which clearly -and expresly condemns the music then in vogue; and that will admit of -some alleviation from its being found in a treatise concerning laws. -The passage I mean is in Cicero, [De Leg. l. ii. 15.] who, following -Plato in his high-flown principles of legislation, exclames, _Illa -quæ solebant quondam compleri severitate jucunda Livianis et Nævianis -modis; nunc ut eadem exultent, cervices oculosque pariter eum_ MODORUM -FLEXIONIBUS _torqueant!_ For the _severitas jucunda_ of the music, -to which Livius’s plays were set, it may be tolerably guessed from -hence, that he was the _first_ who brought a written Play upon the -stage; _i. e._ the first writer whose plays were acted to a regular -and precomposed music. And it is not, we know, very usual for the -first essays in any art to be perfect. It should seem then, that the -_flexiones modorum_, as opposed to the plainness of the old music, are -here condemned, not so much in the view of a critic, estimating the -true state of the stage; but, as was hinted, of a legislator, treading -in the steps of Plato. Though indeed I have no doubt, that the music -in those times was much changed, and had even suffered some degree of -corruption. This I infer, not so much from any express authorities that -have occurred, as from the general state of those times, which were -degenerating apace into the worst morals, the sure fore-runners of a -corrupt and vitiated music; for, though it may indeed, in its turn, and -doubtless does, when established, contribute much to help on the public -depravity, yet that depravity itself is originally not the _effect_, -but the _cause_ of a bad music; as is more than hinted to be Cicero’s -real opinion in the place referred to, where, observing that the -manners of many Greek states had kept pace with their music, he adds, -that they had undergone this change, _Aut hac dulcedine corruptelaque -depravati, ut quidam putant; aut cum severitas eorum ob alia vitia -cecidisset, tum fuit in auribus animisque mutatis etiam huic mutationi -locus_. [Leg. ii. 15.] But be this as it will, Horace, as we have seen, -is no way concerned in the dispute about the ancient music. - - * * * * * - -219. SENTENTIA DELPHIS.] _Sententia_ is properly _an aphorism taken -from life, briefly representing either what is, or what ought to be -the conduct of it_: _Oratio sumpta de vita, quæ aut quid sit, aut quid -esse oporteat, in vita, breviter ostendit_. [Ad Herenn. Rhet. l. iv.] -These aphorisms are here mentioned, as constituting the peculiar praise -and beauty of the chorus. This is finely observed, and was intended to -convey an oblique censure on the practice of those poets, who stuff out -every part of the drama alike with moral sentences, not considering, -that the only proper receptacle of them is the chorus, where indeed -they have an extreme propriety; it being the peculiar office and -character of the chorus to moralize. In the course of the action they -should rarely be used; and that for the plain reason assigned by the -author, just quoted, [for the rule holds on the stage, as well as at -the bar] _Ut rei actores, non vivendi præceptores, esse videamur_. That -there was some ground for this reproof of the Roman drama, is collected -from the few remaining fragments of the old Latin plays, which have -much of this sententious cast, and from what Quintilian expresly tells -us of the old Latin poets, whose fame, it seems, was principally raised -upon this merit. _Tragœdiæ scriptores, Accius et Pacuvius, clarissimi -gravitate sententiarum, &c._ [l. x. c. 1.] To how intolerable an -extreme this humour of moralizing in plays was afterwards carried, -Seneca has given us an example. - -But here a question will be started, “Why then did the Greeks moralize -so much, or, if we condemn _Accius_ and _Seneca_, how shall we defend -_Sophocles_ and _Euripides_?” An ingenious[18] modern hath taken some -pains to satisfy this difficulty, and in part, I think, hath succeeded. -His solution, in brief, is, “That the moral and political aphorisms of -the Greek stage generally contained some apt and interesting allusion -to the state of public affairs, which was easily catched by a quick, -intelligent auditory; and not a dry, affected moral, without further -meaning, as for the most part was that of the Latins.” This account is -not a little confirmed by particular instances of such acknowledged -allusions, as well as from reflexions on the genius and government of -the Athenians, at large. But this, though it goes some way, does not -fully extricate the matter. The truth is, these sentences are too thick -sown in the Greek writers, to be fully accounted for from the single -consideration of their democratical views. Not to observe, that the -very choice of this _medium_ for the conveyance of their political -applications, presupposes the prior acknowledged use and authority of -it. I would then account for it in the following manner. - -I. In the virtuous simplicity of less polished times, this spirit of -moralizing is very prevalent; the good sense of such people always -delighting to shew itself in sententious or proverbial γνῶμαι, or -observations. Their character, like that of the clown in Shakespear, -is _to be very swift and sententious_. [As you like it, Act v. sc. -1.] This is obvious to common experience, and was long since observed -by the _philosopher_, οἱ ἄγροικοι μάλιστα γνωμοτύποι εἰσὶ, καὶ ῥᾳδίως -ἀποφάινονται, [Arist. Rhet. l. ii. c. 21.] an observation, which of -itself accounts for the practice of the elder poets in Greece, as in -all other nations. A custom, thus introduced, is not easily laid aside, -especially when the oracular cast of these sentences, so fitted to -_strike_, and the moral views of writers themselves (which was more -particularly true of the old dramatists) concurred to favour this -taste. But, 2. there was added to this, more especially in the age -of Sophocles and Euripides, a general prevailing fondness for moral -wisdom, which seems to have made the fashionable study of men of all -ranks in those days; when schools of philosophy were resorted to for -recreation as well as instruction, and a knowledge in morals was the -supreme accomplishment in vogue: The fruit of these philosophical -conferences would naturally shew itself in certain brief, sententious -conclusions, which would neither contradict the fashion, nor, it -seems, offend against the ease and gaiety of conversation in those -times. _Schools_ and _pedantry_, _morals_ and _austerity_, were not so -essentially connected, in their combinations of ideas, as they have -been since; and a sensible moral truth might have fallen from any -mouth, without disgracing it. Nay, which is very remarkable, the very -_scholia_, as they were called, or drinking catches of the Greeks, -were seasoned with this moral turn; the sallies of pleasantry, which -escaped them in their freest hours, being tempered for the most part, -by some strokes of this national sobriety. “During the course of their -entertainments, says Athenæus, [l. xv. c. 14.] they loved to hear, from -some wise and prudent person, an agreeable song: and those songs were -held by them most agreeable, which contained exhortations to virtue, or -other instructions relative to their conduct in life.” - -And to give the reader a taste of these _moral_ songs, I will take -leave to present him with a very fine one, written by no less a person -than Aristotle himself; and the rather, as I have it in my power to -present him, at the same time, with an elegant translation of it. But -its best recommendation will be that it comes from the same hand which -has so agreeably entertained us of late with some spirited imitations -of Horace[19]. - - Ἀρετὰ πολύμοχθε γένει βροτείῳ, - Θήραμα κάλλιστον βίῳ. - Σᾶς πέρι, Παρθένε, μορφᾶς - Καὶ θανεῖν ζηλωτὸς ἐν Ἑλλάδι πότμος, - Καὶ πόνους τλῆναι μαλεροὺς ἀκάμαντας. - Τοῖον ἐπὶ φρένα βάλλεις καρπὸν εἰς ἀθάνατον, - Χρυσοῦ τε κρέσσω καὶ γονέων, - Μαλακαυγητοῖό θ’ ὕπνου. - Σοῦ δ’ ἕνεκ’ ἐκ Διὸς Ἡρακλέης - Λήδας τε κοῦροι πόλλ’ ἀνέτλασαν, - Ἔργοις σὰν ἀγορεύοντες δύναμιν. - Σοῖς τε πόθοις Ἀχιλλεὺς - Αἴας τ’ αἴδαο δόμους ἦλθον· - Σᾶς δ’ ἕνεκα φιλίου μορφᾶς - Ἀταρνέως ἔντροφος - Ἀελίου χήρωσεν αὐγάς. - Τοίγαρ ἀοίδιμον ἔργοις, - Ἀθάνατόν τε μιν αὐξήσουσι μοῦσαι, - Μναμοσύνας θύγατρες, - Διὸς ξενίου σέβας αὔξουσαι - Φιλίας τε γέρας βεβαίου[20]. - - I. - Hail, Virtue! Goddess! sov’reign Good, - By man’s bold race with pain pursu’d! - Where’er thou dart’st thy radiant eye, - Greece sees her sons with transport fly; - Danger before thee disappears, - And death’s dark frown no terror wears. - - II. - So full into the breast of man descends - Thy rich ambrosial show’r; - A show’r, that gold, that parents far transcends, - Or, sleep’s soft-soothing pow’r. - - III. - By thee ALCIDES soar’d to fame, - Thy influence LEDA’S twins proclaim; - Heroes for thee have dauntless trod - The dreary paths of hell’s abode; - Fir’d by thy form, all beamy bright, - Atarneus’ nursling left the light. - - IV. - His deeds, his social love (so will the nine, - Proud to spread wide the praise - Of friendship and of friendly Jove) shall shine - With ever-living rays. - -This moralizing humour, so prevalent in those times, is, I dare be -confident, the true source of the sententious cast of the Greek -dramatic writers, as well as of that sober air of moral, which, to the -no small disgust of modern writers, is spread over all their poets. -Not but there would be some difference in those poets themselves, and -in proportion as they had been more or less conversant in the Academy, -would be their relish of this moral mode; as is clearly seen in the -case of Euripides, that philosopher of the stage, as the Athenians -called him, and who is characterized by Quinctilian, as _sententiis -densus, et in iis, quæ a sapientibus tradita sunt, pæne ipsis par_. [L. -x. c. 1.] Yet still the fashion was so general, that no commerce of the -world could avoid, or wholly get clear of it; and therefore Sophocles, -though his engagements in the state kept him at a greater distance from -the schools, had yet his share of this philosophical humour. Now this -apology for the practice of the Greek poets doth by no means extend to -the Roman; Philosophy having been very late, and never generally, the -taste of Rome. - -Cicero says, _Philosophia quidem tantum abest ut proinde, ac de hominum -est vitâ merita, laudetur, ut a plerisque neglecta, a multis etiam -vituperetur_. In another place he tells us, that in his time Aristotle -was not much known, or read, even by the philosophers themselves. -[_Cic. Top. sub init._] - -And, though in the age of Seneca, _Sentences_, we know, were much in -use, yet the cast and turn of them evidently shew them to have been -the affectation of the lettered _few_, and not the _general_ mode and -practice of the time. For the quaintness, in which Seneca’s aphorisms -are dressed, manifestly speaks the labour and artifice of the closet, -and is just the reverse of that easy, simple expression, which cloaths -them in the Greek poets, thus demonstrating their familiar currency in -common life. Under any other circumstances than these, the practice, as -was observed, must be unquestionably faulty; except only in the chorus, -where for the reason before given, it may always, with good advantage, -be employed. - - * * * * * - -220. CARMINE QUI TRAGICO, &c.] The connexion with v. 201, from whence -the poet had digressed, is worth observing. The digression had been -taken up in describing the improved state of dramatic music; the -application of which to the case of tragedy, brings him round again to -his subject, the tragic chorus; to which alone, as hath been observed, -the two last lines refer. This too is the finest preparation of what -follows. For to have passed on directly from the _tibia_ to the -_satyrs_, had been abrupt and inartificial; but from _tragedy_, the -transition is easy, the _satyrs_ being a species of the tragic drama. -That it was so accounted may be seen from the following passage in Ovid, - - _Est et in obscænos deflexa tragædia risus, - Multaque præteriti verba pudoris habet_. - Trist. l. ii. v. 409. - -For the _tragedy_, here referred to, cannot be the regular Roman -tragedy. _That_ he had distinctly considered before, and, besides, -it in no age admitted, much less in this, of which we are speaking, -so intolerable a mixture. As little can it be understood of the -proper Atellane fable, for besides that Ovid is here considering the -_Greek_ drama only, the Atellane was ever regarded as a species, not -of tragedy, but comedy: The authority of Donatus is very express; -“_Comædiarum_ formæ sunt tres: Palliatæ, Togatæ, _Atellanæ_, salibus -et jocis compositæ, quæ in se non habent nisi vetustam elegantiam.” -[Prol. in Terent.] And Athenæus [l. vi.] speaking of some pieces of -this sort, which L. Sylla had composed, calls them σατυρικὰς κωμῳδίας, -satyric comedies; _comedies_, because, ss Donatus says, “salibus et -jocis compositæ:” and _satyric_, not that satyrs were introduced -in them, but, according to Diomedes, from their being “argumentis -dictisque _similes_ satyricis fabulis Græcis.” Of what then can Ovid -be understood to speak, but the true satyric piece, which was always -esteemed, and, as appears from the Cyclops, in fact is, what Demetrius -[περὶ ἑρμηνείας] elegantly calls it, τραγῳδία παιζούση, a lighter kind -of _tragedy_; the very name, which Horace, as well as Ovid in this -place, gives to it? But this is further clear from the instance quoted -by Ovid, of this loose tragedy; for he proceeds: - - _Nec nocet autori, mollem qui fecit Achillem, - Infregisse suis fortia facta modis_. - -which well agrees to the idea of a satyric piece, and, as Vossius takes -notice, seems to be the very same subject, which Athenæus and others -tell us, Sophocles had work’d into a satyric tragedy, under the title -of Ἀχιλλέως ἐρασταί. - - * * * * * - -221. MOX ETIAM, &c.] It is not the intention of these notes to retail -the accounts of others. I must therefore refer the reader, for whatever -concerns the history of the satyric, as I have hitherto done, of -the tragic, and comic drama, to the numerous dissertators on the -ancient stage; and above all, in the case before us, to the learned -Casaubon; from whom all that hath been said to any purpose, by modern -writers, hath been taken. Only it will be proper to observe one or two -particulars, which have been greatly misunderstood, and without which -it will be impossible, in any tolerable manner, to explane what follows. - -I. The design of the poet, in these lines, is not to fix the origin of -the satyric piece, in ascribing the invention of it to Thespis. This -hath been concluded, without the least warrant from his own words, -which barely tell us, “that the Representation of tragedy was in elder -Greece, followed by the _satyrs_;” and indeed the nature of the thing, -as well as the testimony of all antiquity, shews it to be impossible. -For the _satyr_ here spoken of, is, in all respects, a regular drama, -and therefore could not be of earlier date, than the times of Æschylus, -when the constitution of the drama was first formed. ’Tis true indeed, -there was a kind of entertainment of much greater antiquity, which by -the ancients is sometimes called _satyric_, out of which (as Aristotle -assures us) tragedy itself arose, ἡ δὲ τραγῳδία, διὰ τὸ ἐκ σατυρικοῦ -μεταβαλεῖν, ὀψὲ ἀπεσεμνώθη, [περ. ποιητ. κ. δ.] But then this was -nothing but a chorus of satyrs [Athenæus, l. xiv.] celebrating the -festivals of _Bacchus_, with rude songs, and uncouth dances; and had -little resemblance to that, which was afterwards called _satyric_; -which, except that it retained the chorus of satyrs, and turned upon -some subject relative to Bacchus, was of a quite different structure, -and, in every respect, as regular a composition, as tragedy itself. - -II. There is no doubt but the poem, here distinguished by the name of -SATYRI, was in actual use on the Roman stage. This appears from the -turn of the poet’s whole criticism upon it. Particularly, his address -to the Pisos, v. 235. and his observation of the offence which a loose -dialogue in this drama would give to a _Roman_ auditory, v. 248. make -it evident that he had, in fact, the practice of his own stage in -view. It hath, however, been questioned, whether by _Satyri_ we are to -understand the proper Greek _Satyrs_, or the Latin _Atellane_ fable, -which, in the main of its character, very much resembled that drama. -If the authority of Diomedes be any thing, the _former_ must be the -truth, for he expresly asserts, “that the Satyric and Atellane pieces, -though similar in the general cast of their composition, differed in -this essential point, that the persons in the former were satyrs, in -the other, not.” [L. iii. c. De poëm. gen.] Now the poet expresly tells -us, the Persons in the drama he is here describing, were _Satyrs_, and -accordingly delivers rules for the regulation of their characters. As -to the _Atellane_, according to the way in which Vossius reads the -words of Diomedes, the characters were _Oscan_, _personæ Oscæ_, which -is very probable, not so much for the reasons assign’d by this Critic -(for they are indeed very frivolous) but because, as it should seem -from a passage in Strabo, [Lib. v. 233.] the language of the OSCI was -used in these Atellanes, and therefore common sense would require, -that the persons also introduced should be Oscan. The difficulty is -to know how it happened that, in a work written purposely to reform -the Roman stage, the poet should say nothing of one species, the -_Atellane_, which was of great authority and constant use at Rome, and -yet say so much of another, the _Satyrs_, which was properly a Greek -entertainment and certainly much less cultivated by the Roman poets. -The plain solution of the matter, is, that, when now the Romans were -become acquainted with the Greek models, and had applied themselves -to the imitation of them, these Oscan characters were exchanged for -the Greek satyrs, which they before resembled in the main parts of -their character; and which appear, on other occasions, to have been -no strangers at Rome; as we collect from the Sileni and Satyrs making -a part (as Dionysius relates it) in their triumphal processions. So -that this change of the Oscan persons for _Satyrs_ is to be considered -only as an improvement of the old _Atellane_, and not the introduction -of an intirely new drama. In every other respect the precepts here -given for the regulation of the _Satyrs_ are such as would equally -serve to improve the _Atellane_. The probable reason why the poet -chose to insist so much on this alteration, or rather why he laboured -so strenuously to _support_ it, will be given in its place. In the -mean time supposing his view to have been this of countenancing the -introduction of _satyric persons_ into the Atellane (and that they -were, in fact, introduced, we learn from an express authority[21]) -every thing said on the subject will not only be pertinent and -agreeable to what is here taught to be the general tenor of the -epistle, but will be seen to have an address and contrivance, which -will very much illustrate this whole part, and recommend it to the -exact reader. - -But before I quit this subject of the Atellane fable it will be proper -to observe, That when I every where speak of it, as of early original, -and ancient use on the Roman stage, I am not unmindful that Velleius -Paterculus speaks of Pomponius as the Inventor of this Poem; which, if -taken in the strict sense, will bring the date of it very low. “Sane -non ignoremus eâdem ætate fuisse Pomponium, sensibus celebrem, verbis -rudem, et _novitate inventi a se operis_ commendabilem.” L. ii. c. ix. -For the age he is speaking of is that of SYLLA. But the authorities -for the high antiquity of the Atellane fable are so express, that, -when Pomponius is called the _Inventor_ of it, it is but as Horace -calls Lucilius the Inventor of the Roman Satire. That is, he made so -considerable a change in the form and conduct of this poem, as to run -away with all the honour of it. The improvements made by Lucilius in -Satire have been taken notice of in the _Introduction_. And it happens -that a curious passage in Athenæus will let us into the Improvements -made by Pomponius in the Atellanes. - -But first we are to understand that this sort of entertainment, as the -name speaks, was imported to Rome from ATELLA, a town of the OSCI in -Campania; and that the Dialect of that people was constantly and _only_ -used in it, even when the Osci themselves had ceased to be a people. -This we learn from Strabo. ΟΣΚΩΝ ἐκλελοιπότων, ἡ διάλεκτος μένει παρὰ -τοῖς Ῥωμαίοις· ὧστε καὶ ποιήματα σκηνοβατεῖσθαι κατά τινα ἀγῶνα πάτριον -καὶ μιμολογεῖσθαι. L. v. 233. - -The OSCAN language, we see, was made use of in the Atellane plays, just -as the Welsh, or some Provincial Dialect, is often employed in our -Comedies. - -But now we learn from Athenæus that L. Sylla writ some of these -Atellanes in the ROMAN LANGUAGE. ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ γραφεῖσαι σατυρικαὶ κωμῳδίαι -ΤΗΙ ΠΑΤΡΩΩΙ ΦΩΝΗΙ. [L. vi. p. 261. Ed. Casaub.] The difficulty then -clears up. For the Pomponius whom Velleius speaks of was contemporary -with L. Sylla. So that to give any propriety to the term of _Inventor_, -as applied to Pomponius, we must conclude that he was the _first_ -person who set this example of composing Atellane plays in the vulgar -dialect: which took so much that he was even followed in this practice -by the Roman General. This account of the matter perfectly suits -with the encomium given to Pomponius. He would naturally, on such -an alteration, endeavour to give this buffoon sort of Comedy a more -rational cast: And this reform of itself would entitle him to great -honour. Hence the SENSIBUS CELEBRIS of Paterculus[22]. But to preserve -some sort of resemblance (which the people would look for) to the old -Atellane, and not to strip it of all the pleasantry arising from the -barbarous dialect, he affected, it seems, the _antique_ in the turn of -his expression. Hence the other part of his character (which in the -politer age of Paterculus grew offensive to nice judges) VERBIS RUDIS. - -The conclusion is, That the Atellane Fable was in its first rude form -and Oscan Dialect of ancient use at Rome, where it was admitted, as -Strabo speaks, ΚΑΤΑ ΤΙΝΑ ΑΓΩΝΑ ΠΑΤΡΙΟΝ: That Pomponius afterwards -_reformed_ its barbarities, and brought it on the Stage in a _Roman_ -dress; which together were thought so great improvements, that later -writers speak of him as the INVENTOR of this Poem. But to return to our -proper subject, the _Greek Satyrs_. - -III. For the absolute merit of these satyrs, the reader will judge -of it himself by comparing the Cyclops, the only piece of this kind -remaining to us from antiquity, with the rules here delivered by -Horace. Only it may be observed, in addition to what the reader will -find elsewhere [_n._ v. 223.] apologized in its favour, that the -double character of the satyrs admirably fitted it, as well for a -sensible entertainment to the wise, as for the sport and diversion of -the vulgar. For while the grotesque appearance, and jesting vein of -these fantastic personages amused the one; the other saw much further; -and considered them, at the same time, as replete with science, and -informed by a spirit of the most abstruse wisdom. Hence important -lessons of civil prudence, interesting allusions to public affairs, -or a high, refined moral, might, with the highest probability, be -insinuated, under the slight cover of a rustic simplicity. And from -this instructive cast, which from its nature must be very obscure, if -not impenetrable, to us at this day, was, I doubt not, derived the -principal pleasure which the ancients found in this species of the -drama. If the modern reader would conceive any thing of the nature and -degree of this pleasure, he may in part guess at it, from reflecting on -the entertainment he himself receives from the characters of the clowns -in Shakespear; _who_, as the poet himself hath characterized them, -_use their folly, like a stalking horse, and, under the presentation of -that, shoot their wit_. [As you like it.] - - * * * * * - -221. AGRESTIS SATYROS, &c.] It hath been shewn, that the poet could -not intend, in these lines, to _fix the origin of the satyric drama_. -But, though this be certain, and the dispute concerning that point be -thereby determined, yet is it to be noted, that he purposely describes -the satyr in its ruder and less polished form; glancing even at some -barbarities, which deform the Bacchic chorus; which was properly the -satyric piece, before Æschylus had, by his regular constitution of the -drama, introduced it, under a very different form on the stage. The -reason of this conduct is given in _n._ on v. 203. Hence the propriety -of the word _nudavit_, which Lambin rightly interprets, _nudos -introduxit Satyros_, the poet hereby expressing the monstrous indecorum -of this entertainment in its first unimproved state. Alluding also to -this ancient character of the _Satyr_, he calls him _asper_, i. e. -rude and petulant; and even adds, that his jests were intemperate, and -without the _least mixture of gravity_. For thus, upon the authority of -a very ingenious and learned critic, I explane _incolumi gravitate_, i. -e. rejecting every thing serious, bidding _farewell_, as we say, _to -all gravity_. Thus [L. iii. O. 5.] - - _Incolumi Jove et urbe Roma;_ - -_i. e._ bidding farewell to Jupiter [Capitolinus] and Rome; agreeably -to what is said just before, - - _Anciliorum et nominis et togæ_ - OBLITUS, _æternæque Vestæ_. - -or, as SALVUS is used still more remarkably in Martial [10. l. v.] - - _Ennius est lectus_ SALVO _tibi, Roma, Marone: - Et sua riserunt secula Mæonidem._ - -_Farewell, all gravity_, is as remote from the original sense of the -words _fare well_, as _incolumi gravitate_ from that of _incolumis_, or -_salvo Marone_ from that of _salvus_. - - * * * * * - -223. INLECEBRIS ERAT ET GRATA NOVITATE MORANDUS SPECTATOR—] The poet -gives us in these words the reason, why such gross Ribaldry, as we know -the Atellanes consisted of, was endured by the politest age of Rome. -Scenical representations, being then intended, not, as in our days, for -the entertainment of the better sort, but on certain great solemnities, -indifferently for the diversion of the whole city, it became necessary -to consult the taste of the multitude, as well as of those, _quibus est -equus, et pater et res_. - -And this reason is surely sufficient to vindicate the poet from the -censure of a late critic, who has fallen upon this part of the epistle -with no mercy. “The poet, says he, spends a great number of verses -about these satyrs; but the subject itself is unworthy his pen. He, -who could not bear the elegant mimes of Laberius, that he should think -this farcical and obscene trash, worth his peculiar notice, is somewhat -strange.” I doubt not, it appeared so to this writer, who neither -considered the peculiar necessity of the satyric piece, nor attended to -the poet’s purpose and drift in this epistle. The former is the more -extraordinary, because he hath told us, and rightly too, “that, to -content the people, the satyric was superadded to the tragic drama.” -And he quotes a passage from Diomedes, which gives the same account, -_Satyros induxerunt ludendi causa jocandique, simul ut spectator inter -res tragicas seriasque satyrorum quoque jocis et ludis delectaretur_. -Should not this have taught him, that what was so requisite to content -the people, might deserve some notice from the poet? This _farcical -trash_ was chiefly calculated for those, who without the _enticement -of so agreeable a change_ in the entertainment of the day, would not -have had patience to sit out the tragedy; which being intended for -the gratification of the better sort, _urbani et honesti_, they, in -their turn, required to be diverted in the only way, which was to the -level of their taste, that of farce and pleasantry. And this I dare be -confident, so great a patron of liberty, as this writer, will agree -with me in thinking to be but reasonable in a free state; which ought -to make some provision for the _few_, that may chance, even under -such advantages, to want a truly critical spirit. I hold then, that -Horace acted, not only in the character of a good critic, but of a -prudent man, and good citizen, in attempting to refine, what it had -not been equitable, or was not in his power, wholly to remove. But 2. -the learned critic as little attended to the drift of the epistle, -as to the important use and necessity of the satyric drama. He must -otherwise have seen, that, in an essay to improve and regulate the -Roman theatre (which is the sole purpose of it) the poet’s business was -to take it, as it then stood, and to confine himself to such defects -and abuses, as he found most likely to admit a correction, and not, as -visionary projectors use, to propose a thorough reform of the public -taste in every instance. The _Atellanes_ had actual possession of -the stage, and, from their antiquity, and other prejudices in their -favour, as well as from the very design and end of their theatrical -entertainments, would be sure to keep it. What had the poet then, in -these circumstances, to do but, in pursuance of his main design, to -encourage a reformation of that entertainment, which he was not at -liberty absolutely, and under every shape, to reject. This he judged -might most conveniently be done by adopting the Greek _Satyrs_ instead -of their own _Oscan_ characters. With this change, though the Atellanes -might not, perhaps, be altogether to his own taste, yet he hoped to -render it a tolerable entertainment to the better sort. And this, in -fact, it might have been by following the directions here given; part -of which were intended to free it from that _obscene and farcical -trash_, which appears to have been no less offensive to the poet, than -to this critic. - -As for the so much applauded _mimes_, they had not, it is probable, at -this time gained a footing on the stage, sufficient to entitle them to -so much consideration. This was a new upstart species of the drama, -which, though it had the common good-fortune of absurd novelties, to -take with the great; yet was generally disapproved by men of better -taste, and better morals. Cicero had passed a severe censure upon it -in one of his epistles, [Ad famil. ix. 16.] which intimates, that it -was of a more buffoon and ridiculous composition, than their Atellanes; -whose place it began to be the fashion to supply with this ribaldry. -And we collect the same thing from what Ovid observes of it in apology -for the looseness of his own verses, - - _Quid si scripsissem_ MIMOS _obscœna jocantes, - Qui semper vetiti crimen amoris habent?_ - - _Nec satis incestis temerari vocibus_ aures, - _Assuescunt_ oculi _multa pudenda pati_. - Trist. l. ii. v. 497. - -Horace, with this writer’s leave, might therefore judge it better to -retain the Atellanes under some restrictions, than adopt what was much -worse. But the mimes of Laberius were quite another thing. They were -all elegance. So J. Scaliger [Comment, de Comœd. et Tragœd. c. vi.] -and, after him, this writer, tells us; but on no better grounds, than -that he wrote good Latin (though not always that, as may be seen in -A. Gellius, l. xvi. c. 7.) and hath left a few elegant, moral scraps -behind him. But what then? the kind of composition was ridiculous and -absurd, and, in every view, far less tolerable, than the _satyrs_ under -the regulation of Horace. The latter was a regular drama, consisting -of an intire fable, conducted according to the rules of probability -and good sense, only dashed with a little extravagance for the sake -of the mob. The character of the former hath been given above from -unquestionable authorities. Accordingly Diomedes [iii. p. 488. ed. -Putsch.] defines it to be _an irreverent and lascivious imitation of -obscene acts_—_mimus est sermonis cujuslibet motus sine reverentia, -vel factorum et turpium cum lascivia imitatio_. And Scaliger himself -owns _veri mimi proprium esse quædam sordida ut affectet_, loc. cit. -It seems, in short, to have been a confused medley of comic drollery -on a variety of subjects, without any consistent order or design; -delivered by one actor, and heightened with all the licence of obscene -gesticulation. Its best character, as practised by its greatest master, -Laberius, was that of being witty in a very bad way [Sen. Controv. l. -iii. c. 18.] and its sole end and boast, _risu diducere rictum_ [Hor. -i. S. x. 7.] which, whatever virtue it may be, is not always a proof of -much elegance. But I have spent too many words on a criticism, which -the ingenious author, I am persuaded, let fall unawares, and did not -mean to give us as the result of a mature and well-weighed deliberation -on this subject. - - * * * * * - -225. VERUM ITA RISORES, &c.] The connecting particle, _verum_, -expresses the opposition intended between the original satyr and that -which the poet approves. For having insinuated the propriety of the -satyric shews, as well from the practice of Greece, as the nature of -festival solemnities, the poet goes on to animadvert on their defects, -and to prescribe such rules, in the conduct of them, as might render -them a tolerable diversion, even to the better sort. This introduction -of the subject hath no small art. For, there being at this time (as -hath been shewn) an attempt to bring in the Greek satyrs, while the -Atellane plays (as was likely) still held the affections of the people, -the poet was not openly to reproach and discredit these; but, by a -tacit preference, to support and justify the other. This is done with -address. For, instead of criticising the Atellanes, which came directly -in his way, after having closed his account of the Roman tragedy, he -relates, as it were, incidentally, the practice of ancient Greece in -exhibiting satyrs, and thence immediately passes on, without so much as -touching on the other favourite entertainment, to offer some directions -concerning the satyric drama. - - * * * * * - -227. NE QUICUNQUE DEUS, QUICUNQUE ADHIBEBITUR HEROS, &c.] Gods and -Heroes were introduced as well into the satyric as tragic drama, and -often the very same Gods and Heroes, which had born a part in the -preceding tragedy: a practice, which Horace, I suppose, intended, by -this hint, to recommend as most regular. This gave the serious, tragic -air to the satyr. The comic arose from the _risor_ and _dicax_, who was -either a satyr himself, or some character of an extravagant, ridiculous -cast, like a satyr. Of this kind, says Diomedes, from whom I take this -account, are Autolychus and Burris: which last particular I mention -for the sake of justifying a correction of the learned Casaubon. This -great critic conjectured, that, instead of _Burris_, in this place, it -should be read _Busiris_. His reason is “_nam Burris iste ex Græcorum -poetis mihi non notus_:” which reason hath more force, than appears at -first sight. For the very nature of this diversion required, that the -principal character of it should be well known, which it was scarce -likely to be, if not taken from a common story in their poets. But -Vossius objects, “_sed non ea fuerit persona ridicula_:” contrary to -what the grammarian represents it. But how so? Busiris was a savage, -inhospitable tyrant, who sacrificed strangers. And what should hinder -this character from being made ridiculous, as well as Polypheme in the -Cyclops? Their characters were not unlike. And, as is seen in that -case, the ancients knew to set forth such monsters of cruelty in a -light, that rendered them equally absurd and detestable. This was -agreeable to their humanity, which, by such representations, loved to -cultivate a spirit of benevolence in the spectators; and shews the -moral tendency of even the absurdest of the ancient dramatic shews. The -objection of Vossius is then of no weight. But what further confirms -the emendation of the excellent Casaubon, is a manuscript note on the -margin of a printed copy of this book[23], which I have now by me, as -it should seem, from his own hand, “_lectionem vero quam restituimus -etiam in optimo codice Puteano postea invenimus_.” The learned reader -will therefore, henceforth, look upon the text of _Diomedes_, in this -place, as fully settled. - - * * * * * - -229. MIGRET IN OBSCURAS &c.—AUT, DUM VITAT &c.] The two faults, -cautioned against, are 1. a too low, or vulgar expression, in the comic -parts; and 2. a too sublime one, in the tragic. The _former_ of these -faults would almost naturally adhere to the first essays of the Roman -satyrs, from the buffoon genius of the old Atellane: and the _latter_, -from not apprehending the true measure and degree of the tragic -mixture. To correct both these, the poet gives the exactest idea of -the satyrs, in the image of a Roman matron, sharing in the mirth of a -religious festival. The occasion obliged to some freedoms: and yet the -dignity of her character demanded a decent reserve. - - * * * * * - -234. NON EGO INORNATA &c.] The scope of these lines may be to regulate -the satyric style, by the idea of its character, before given, in -the allusion to a Roman matron. Conformably to that idea, a plain, -unornamented expression [from v. 234 to 236.] must not always be used. -The three following lines inforce this general application by example. - -If the exact reader find himself dissatisfied with this gloss, which -seems the only one, the words, as they now stand, will bear, he may, -perhaps, incline to admit the following conjecture, which proposes -to read, instead of _inornata_, _honorata_. I. The context, I think, -requires this change. For the two faults observed above [v. 229, 30.] -were, 1. a too low expression, and, 2. a too lofty. Corresponding to -this double charge, the poet having fixed the idea of this species of -composition [v. 231, 2, 3.] should naturally be led to apply it to both -points in questions: 1. to the comic part, in prescribing the true -measure of its condescension, and, 2. to the tragic, in settling the -true bounds of its elevation. And this, according to the reading here -offered, the poet doth, only in an inverted order. The sense of the -whole would be this, - - 1. _Non ego_ HONORATA _et dominantia nomina solum - Verbaque, Pisones, satyrorum scriptor amabo_: - -_i. e._ in the tragic scenes, I would not confine myself to such words -only, as are in honour, and bear rule in tragic, and the most serious -subjects; this stateliness not agreeing to the condescending levity of -the satyr. - - 2. _Nec sic enitar tragico differre colori, - Ut nihil intersit Davusne loquatur, et audax - Pythias, emuncto lucrata Simone talentum, - An custos famulusque Dei Silenus alumni._ - -_i. e._ nor, on the contrary, in the comic scenes, would I incur the -other extreme of a too plain, and vulgar expression, this as little -suiting its inherent matronlike dignity. But, II. this correction -improves the _expression_ as well as the _sense_. For besides the -opposition, implied in the disjunctive, _nec_, which is this way -restored, _dominantia_ hath now its genuine sense, and not that strange -and foreign one forced upon it out of the Greek language. As connected -with _honorata_, it becomes a metaphor, elegantly pursued; and hath too -a singular propriety, the poet here speaking of figurative terms. And -then, for _honorata_ itself, it seems to have been a familiar mode of -expression with Horace. Thus [2 Ep. ii. 112.] _honore indigna vocabula_ -are such words as have _parum splendoris_ and are _sine pondere_. And -“_quæ sunt in honore vocabula_” is spoken of the contrary ones, such -as are fit to enter into a serious tragic composition, in this very -epistle, v. 71. - - * * * * * - -240. EX NOTO FICTUM &c.] This precept [from v. 240 to 244] is analogous -to that, before given [v. 129] concerning tragedy. It directs to -form the satyrs out of a known subject. The reasons are, in general, -the same for both. Only one seems peculiar to the satyrs. For the -cast of them being necessarily romantic, and the persons, those -fantastic beings, called satyrs, the τὸ ὅμοιον, or probable, will -require the subject to have gained a popular belief, without which the -representation must appear unnatural. Now these subjects, which have -gained a popular belief, in consequence of old tradition, and their -frequent celebration in the poets, are what Horace calls _nota_; just -as newly invented subjects, or, which comes to the same thing, such -as had not been employed by other writers, _indicta_, he, on a like -occasion, terms _ignota_. The connexion lies thus. Having mentioned -_Silenus_ in v. 239, one of the commonest characters in this drama, an -objection immediately offers itself; “but what good poet will engage -in subjects and characters so trite and hackney’d?” The answer is, _ex -noto fictum carmen sequar_, i. e. however trite and well known this and -some other characters, essential to the satyr, are, and must be; yet -will there be still room for fiction and genius to shew itself. The -conduct and disposition of the play may be wholly new, and above the -ability of common writers, _tantum series juncturaque pollet_. - - * * * * * - -244. SYLVIS DEDUCTI CAVEANT &c.] Having before [v. 232] settled the -true idea of the satyric style in general, he now treats of the -peculiar language of the satyrs themselves. This common sense demands -to be in conformity with their sylvan character, neither affectedly -tender and gallant, on the one hand; nor grossly and offensively -obscene, on the other. The _first_ of these cautions seems leveled at -a false improvement, which, on the introduction of the Roman satyr, -was probably attempted on the simple, rude plan of the Greek, without -considering the rustic extraction and manners of the fauns and satyrs. -The _latter_, obliquely glances at the impurities of the Atellane, -whose licentious ribaldry, as hath been observed, would, of course, -infect the first essays of the Roman satyr. - -But these rules so necessary to be followed in the _satyric_, are (to -observe it by the way) still more essential to the PASTORAL poem: the -fortunes and character of which (though numberless volumes have been -written upon it) may be given in few words. - -The prodigious number of writings, called Pastoral, which have been -current in all times, and in all languages, shews there is something -very taking in this poem. And no wonder, since it addresses itself to -THREE leading principles in human nature, THE LOVE OF EASE, THE LOVE -OF BEAUTY, and THE MORAL SENSE: such pieces as these being employed -in representing to us the TRANQUILLITY, the INNOCENCE, and the -SCENERY, of the rural life. But though these ideas are of themselves -agreeable, good sense will not be satisfied unless they appear to have -some foundation in truth and nature. And even, then, their impression -will be but faint, if they are not, further, employed to _convey -instruction_, or _interest the heart_. - -Hence the different _forms_, under which this poem hath appeared. -THEOCRITUS thought it sufficient to give a _reality_ to his pictures of -the rural manners. But in so doing it was too apparent that his draught -would often be coarse and unpleasing. And, in fact, we find that his -shepherds, contrary to the poet’s rule, - - ——_immunda crepent ignominiosaque dicta_. - -VIRGIL avoided this extreme. Without departing very widely from the -simplicity of rustic nature, his shepherds are more decent, their -lives more serene, and, in general, the scene more inviting. But the -refinements of his age not well agreeing to these simple delineations, -and his views in writing not being merely to _entertain_, he saw fit -to allegorize these agreeable fancies, and make them the vehicles of -_historical_, and sometimes even of _philosophic_, information. - -Our SPENSER wanted to engross all the beauties of his masters: and so, -to the artless and too natural drawing of the _Greek_, added the deep -allegoric design of the _Latin_, poet. - -One easily sees that this ænigmatic cast of the pastoral was meant -to give it an air of instruction, and to make it a reasonable -entertainment to such as would nauseate a sort of writing, - - “Where pure description held the place of sense.” - -But this refinement was out of place, as not only inconsistent with -the simplicity of the pastoral character, but as tending to rob us in -a good degree of the _pleasure_, which these amusing and picturesque -poems are intended to give. - -Others therefore took another route. The famous TASSO, by an effort -of genius which hath done him more honour than even his epic talents, -produced a new kind of pastoral, by engrafting it on the drama. And -under this form, pastoral poetry became all the vogue. The charming -AMINTAS was even commented by the greatest scholars and critics. It was -read, admired, and imitated by all the world. - -There is no need to depreciate the fine copies that were taken of -it, in Italy. But those by our own poets were, by far, the best. -SHAKESPEARE had, indeed, set the example of something like pastoral -dramas, in our language; and in his _Winter’s Tale_, _As ye like -it_, and some other of his pieces, has enchanted every body with his -natural sylvan manners, and sylvan scenes. But FLETCHER set himself, -in earnest, to emulate the Italian, yet still with an eye of reverence -towards the English, poet. In his _faithful shepherdess_ he surpasses -the _former_, in the variety of his paintings and the beauty of his -scene; and only falls short of the _latter_, in the truth of manners, -and a certain original grace of invention which no imitation can reach. -The fashion was now so far established, that every poet of the time -would try his hand at a pastoral. Even surly BEN, though he found no -precedent for it among his ancients, was caught with the beauty of this -novel drama, and, it must be owned, has written above himself in the -fragment of his _sad shepherd_.—The scene, at length, was closed with -the _Comus_ of MILTON, who, in his rural paintings, almost equalled the -simplicity and nature of Shakespeare and Fletcher, and, in the purity -and splendor of his expression, outdid TASSO. - -In this new form of the pastoral, what was childish before, is readily -admitted and excused. A simple _moral_ tale being the groundwork of -the piece, the charms of description and all the embellishments of -the scene are only subservient to the higher purpose of picturing the -manners, or touching the heart. - -But the good sense of Shakespeare, or perhaps the felicity of his -genius, was admirable. Instead of the deep tragic air of Tasso (which -has been generally followed) and his continuance of the pastoral -strain, even to satiety, through _five_ acts, he only made use of these -playful images to enrich his comic scenes. He saw, I suppose, that -pastoral subjects were unfit to bear a tragic distress. And besides, -when the distress rises to any height, the wantonness of pastoral -imagery grows distasteful. Where as the genius of comedy admits of -humbler distresses; and leaves us at leisure to recreate ourselves with -these images, as no way interfering with the draught of characters, or -the management of a comic tale. But to make up in _surprize_ what was -wanting in _passion_, Shakespeare hath, with great judgment, adopted -the popular system of Faeries; which, while it so naturally supplies -the place of the old sylvan theology, gives a wildness to this sort of -pastoral painting which is perfectly inimitable. - -In a word; if Tasso had the honour of inventing the _pastoral drama_, -properly so called, Shakespeare has shewn us the just application of -_pastoral poetry_; which, however amusing to the imagination, good -sense will hardly endure, except in a short dialogue, or in some -occasional dramatic scenes; and in _these_ only, as it serves to the -display of characters and the conduct of the poet’s plot. - -And to confirm these observations on pastoral poetry, which may -be thought too severe, one may observe that such, in effect, was -the judgment passed upon it by that great critic, as well as wit, -CERVANTES. He concludes his famous adventures, with a kind of project -for his knight and squire _to turn shepherds_: an evident ridicule -on the turn of that time for pastoral poems and romances, that were -beginning to succeed to their books of heroic knight-errantry. Not, but -it contains, also, a fine stroke of _moral criticism_, as implying, -what is seen from experience to be too true, that men capable of -running into one enthusiasm are seldom cured of it but by some sudden -diversion of the imagination, which drives them into another. - -In conclusion, the reader will scarcely ask me, why, in this deduction -of the history and genius of pastoral poetry, I have taken no notice of -what has been written of this kind, in France; which, if it be not the -most _unpoetical_ nation in Europe, is at least the most _unpastoral_. -Nor is their _criticism_ of this poem much better than their execution. -A late writer[24] indeed pronounces M. de Fontenelle’s discourse on -pastoral poetry _to be one of the finest pieces of criticism in the -world_. For my part, I can only say it is rather more tolerable than -his pastorals. - - * * * * * - -248. OFFENDENTUR ENIM QUIBUS EST EQUUS ET PATER ET RES.] The poet, in -his endeavour to reclaim his countrymen from the _taste obscene_, very -politely, by a common figure, represents that as being the _fact_, -which he wished to be so. For what reception the rankest obscenities -met with on the Roman stage we learn from Ovid’s account of the success -of the MIMI: - - _Nobilis hos virgo matronaque, virque puerque, - Spectat: et è magnâ parte_ senatus _adest_. - Trist. ii. v. 501. - -This, indeed, was not till some time after the date of this epistle. -But we may guess from hence what must have been the tendency of the -general disposition, and may see to how little effect the poet had -laboured to divert the public attention from the _Mimes_ to his -reformed _Atellanes_. - - * * * * * - -251. SYLLABA LONGA BREVI, &c.] This whole critique on the satyrs -concludes with some directions about the Iambic verse. When the -commentary asserts, that this metre was common to tragedy and the -satyrs, this is not to be taken strictly; the satyrs, in this respect, -as in every other, sustaining a sort of intermediate character betwixt -tragedy and comedy. For, accurately speaking, their proper measure, as -the Grammarians teach, was the Iambic enlivened with the tribrachys. -“_Gaudent_ [Victor. l. ii. c. met. Iamb.] _trisyllabo pede et maxime -tribrache_.” Yet there was likeness enough to consider this whole -affair of the metre under the same head. The Roman dramatic writers -were very careless in their versification, which arose, as is hinted, -v. 259, from an immoderate and undistinguishing veneration of their old -poets. - -In conclusion of all that has been delivered on the subject of these -_satyrs_, it may be amusing to the learned reader to hear a celebrated -French critic express himself in the following manner: “_Les Romains -donnoient_ encore le nom de Satyre à une espece de _Piece Pastorale_; -qui tenoit, _dit on_ le milieu entre la Tragedie et la Comedie. _C’est -tout ce que nous en sçavons._” [_Mem. de l’Hist. des Belles Lett._ tom. -xvii. p. 211.] - - * * * * * - -264. ET DATA ROMANIS VENIA EST INDIGNA POETIS.] It appears certainly, -that what is said here concerning the metre of dramatic poems, was -peculiarly calculated for the correction of the Roman negligence, and -inaccuracy in this respect. This, if it had not been so expresly told -us, would have been seen from the few remaining fragments of the old -Latin plays, in which a remarkable carelessness of numbers is observed. -This gives a presumption, that, with the like advantage of consulting -them, it would also appear, that the rest of the poet’s rules were -directed to the same end, and that even such, as are delivered in the -most absolute and general form, had a peculiar reference, agreeably -to what is here taught of the plan of this poem, to the corresponding -defects in the state of the Roman stage. - - * * * * * - -270. AT VESTRI PROAVI PLAUTINOS ET NUMEROS ET LAUDAVERE SALES; NIMIUM -PATIENTER UTRUMQUE, NE DICAM STULTE, MIRATI;] It hath been thought -strange, that Horace should pass so severe a censure on the _wit_ of -Plautus, which yet appeared to Cicero so admirable, that he speaks of -it as _elegans, urbanum, ingeniosum, facetum_. [De Off. i. 29.] Nor can -it be said, that this difference of judgment was owing to the improved -delicacy of taste for wit, in the Augustan age, since it doth not -appear, that Horace’s own jokes, when he attempts to divert us in this -way, are at all better than Cicero’s. - -The common answer, so far as it respects the poet, is, I believe, the -true one: “that endeavouring to beat down the excessive veneration -of the elder Roman poets, and, among the rest (as appears from 2 Ep. -i. and A. P. 54.) of Plautus, he censures, without reserve, every -the least defect in his writings; though, in general, he agreed with -Cicero in admiring him.” But then this was all. For that he was not -so over-nice as to dislike Plautus’ wit in the main, and, but in this -view, probably had not criticized him at all, I collect from his -express approbation of the wit of the old _comedy_; which certainly was -not more delicate, than that of _Plautus_. - - _ridiculum acri - Fortius et melius magnas plerumque secat res. - Illi, scripta quibus comœdia prisca viris est, - Hoc stabant_, HOC SUNT IMITANDI. - I S. x. 15. - -I know, it hath been thought, that, even in this very place, where -he censures the wit of Plautus, he directs us _ad Græca exemplaria_, -i. e. as his critics understand him, to Aristophanes, and the other -writers of the old Comedy; but such a direction in this place, were -altogether improper, and the supposition is, besides, a palpable -mistake. For the _Græca exemplaria_ are referred to _only_, as models -in exact versification, as the tenor of the place fully shews. And -what Horace afterwards remarks on the wit of Plautus, in addition -to the observations on metre, is a new and distinct criticism, and -hath no kind of reference to the preceding direction. But still, as I -said, Horace appears no such enemy to the old comic wit, as, without -the particular reason assigned, to have so severely condemned it. The -difficulty is to account for Cicero’s so peculiar admiration of it, and -that a taste, otherwise so exact, as his, should delight in the coarse -humour of Plautus, and the old comedy. The case, I believe, was this: - -Cicero had imbibed a strong relish of the frank and libertine wit of -the old comedy, as best suited to the genius of popular eloquence; -which, though it demands to be tempered with some urbanity, yet never -attains its end so effectually, as when let down and accommodated, in -some certain degree, to the general taste and manners of the people. -This Cicero in effect owns, when he tells us, the main end of jesting -at the bar [De Orat. ccxl.] is, not to acquire the credit of consummate -humour, but to carry the cause, _ut proficiamus aliquid_: that is, _to -make an impression on the people_; which is generally, we know, better -done by a coarser joke, than by the elegance of refined raillery. -And that this was the real ground of Cicero’s preference of the old -comedy to the new, may be concluded, not only from the nature of the -thing, and his own example (for he was ever reckoned intemperate in -his jests, which by no means answer to the elegance of his character) -but is certainly collected from what Quintilian, in his account of -it, expresly observes of the old comedy, _Nescio an ulla poesis (post -Homerum) aut similior sit oratoribus, aut ad oratores faciendos -aptior_. The reason, doubtless, was, that _strength_, and _prompt and -eloquent freedom_, _Vires et facundissima libertas_, which he had -before observed, so peculiarly belonged to it. - -And this, I think, will go some way towards clearing an embarrassing -circumstance in the history of the Roman learning, which I know not, -if any writer hath yet taken notice of. It is, that though Menander -and the authors of the new comedy were afterwards admired, as the only -masters of the comic drama, yet this does not appear to have been -seen, or, at least, so fully acknowledged, by the Roman writers, till -after the Augustan age; notwithstanding that the Roman taste was, from -that time, visibly declining. The reason, I doubt not, was, that the -popular eloquence, which continued, in a good degree of vigour, to that -time, participating more of the freedom of the _old_ comic banter, -and rejecting, as improper to its end, the refinements of the _new_, -insensibly depraved the public taste; which, by degrees only, and not -till a studied and cautious declamation had, by the necessary influence -of absolute power, succeeded to the liberty of their old oratory, -was fully reconciled to the delicacy and strict decorum of Menander’s -wit. Even the case of Terence, which, at first sight, might seem to -bear hard against it, confirms this account. This poet, struck with -the supreme elegance of Menander’s manner, and attempting too soon, -before the public taste was sufficiently formed for it, to bring it on -the stage, had occasion for all the credit, his noble patrons could -give him, to support himself against the popular clamour. What was the -object of that _clamour_, we learn from a curious passage in one of his -prologues, where his adversary is made to object, - - _Quas—fecit—fabulas - Tenui esse oratione et scriptura levi_. - Prol. ad Phorm. - -The sense of which is not, as his commentators have idly thought, _that -his style was low and trifling_, for this could never be pretended, but -_that his dialogue was insipid, and his characters, and, in general, -his whole composition, without that comic heightening, which their -vitiated tastes required_. This further appears from those common -verses of Cæsar, where, characterizing the genius of Terence’s plays, -as devoid of this comic spirit, he calls them _lenia scripta_: - - LENIBUS _atque utinam_ SCRIPTIS _adjuncta foret vis_ - COMICA: - -words, which are the clearest comment on the lines in question. - -But this famous judgment of Cæsar deserves to be scrutinized more -narrowly. For it may be said “that by _vis comica_ I suppose him to -mean the comic drollery of the _old_ and _middle_ comedy; whereas it is -more probable he meant the elegant but high humour of the best writers -of the _new_, particularly of Menander; why else doth he call Terence, -“_Dimidiate Menander_?” There is the more force in this objection, -because _the elegant but high humour_, here mentioned, is of the truest -merit in comedy; and because Menander, of whom the ancients speak so -honourably, and whom we only know by their encomiums, may be reasonably -thought to have excelled in it. What occurs in answer to it, is this. - -1. The Ancients are generally allowed to have had very little of what -we now understand by _comic humour_. Lucian is the _first_, indeed the -only one, who hath properly left us any considerable specimens of it. -And he is almost modern with regard to the writers under consideration. -But, - -2. That _Menander and the writers of the new comedy did not excel in -it_, is probable for these reasons. - -1. The most judicious critic of antiquity, when he is purposely -considering the excellencies of the Greek comedians, and, what is more, -exposing the comparative deficiencies of the Roman, says not a word -of it. He thinks, indeed, that _Terence’s_, which yet he pronounces -to be most elegant, is but the faintest shadow of the Greek, comedy. -But then his reason is, _quod sermo ipse Romanus non recipere videatur -illam solis concessam Atticis venerem_. [L. x. 1.] It seems then as -if the main defect, which this critic observed in Terence’s comedy, -was a want of that inexplicable grace of language, which so peculiarly -belonged to the Greeks; a grace of so subtle a nature that even they -could only catch it in one dialect—_quando eam ne Græci quidem in alio -genere linguæ non obtinuerint_. [Ib.]” - -2. Some of Terence’s plays may be almost said to be direct translations -from Menander. And the comic humour, supposed in the objection, being -of the truest taste, no reason can be imagined why the poet should so -industriously avoid to transfuse this last and highest grace into his -comedy. Especially since the popular cry against him proceeded from -hence, that he was wanting in comic pleasantry; a _want_, which by a -stricter attention to this virtue of his great original, supposing -Menander to have been possessed of it, he might so easily have -supplied. And lest it should be thought he omitted to do this, as not -conceiving any thing of this _virtue_, or as not approving it, we find -in him, but rarely indeed, some delicate touches, which approach as -nearly as any thing in antiquity to this genuine comic humour. Of which -kind is that in the _Hecyra_: - - _Tum tu igitur nihil adtulisti huc plus unâ sententiâ?_ - -For these reasons I should suppose that _Menander_ and the writers of -the new comedy, from whom Terence copied, had little of this beauty. - -But what shall we say then to Cæsar’s _dimidiate Menander_? It refers, -I believe, solely to what Quintilian, as we have seen, observed, that, -with all his emulation of Attic elegance, he was unable, through the -native stubbornness of the Latin tongue, to come up to the Greek -comedy. The very text of Cæsar leads to this meaning. - - _Tu quoque, tu in summis, ô dimidiate Menander, - Poneris, et merito_, PURI SERMONIS AMATOR. - -His excellence consisted in the _purity and urbanity of his -expression_, in which praise if he still fell short of his master, the -fault was not in him, but the intractability of his language. And in -this view Cæsar’s address carries with it the highest _compliment_. -Quintilian had said in relation to this point, _Vix levem consequimur -umbram_. But Cæsar, in a fond admiration of his merit, cries out, - - _Tu quoque_, TU _in summis_, Ô DIMIDIATE MENANDER. - -His _censure_ of him is delivered in the following lines: - - _Lenibus atque utinam scriptis adjuncta foret vis - Comica, ut æquato virtus polleret honore - Cum Græcis, neque in hâc despectus parte jaceres; - Unum hoc maceror et doleo tibi deesse, Terenti._ - -Which, again, gives no countenance to the supposition of Menander’s -excelling in _comic humour_. For he does not say, that with the -addition of this talent he had equalled _Menander_, but in general, the -GREEKS—_æquato virtus polleret honore cum_ GRÆCIS. And this was what -occasioned Cæsar’s regret. He wished to see him unite all the merits of -the Greek comedy. As far as the Latin tongue would permit, he had shewn -himself a master of the elegance of the _new_. What he further required -in him was the strong wit and satyr of the _old_. His favourite had -then rivalled, in every praise, the Greek writers. - -And, if this be admitted, nothing hinders but that by _vis comica_ -Cæsar may be understood to mean (how consistently with the admired -urbanity of Terence is not the question) the comic pleasantry of the -middle or old comedy. - -The thing indeed could hardly be otherwise. For Plautus, who chiefly -copied, from the _middle_ comedy, had, by the drollery of his wit, -and the buffoon pleasantry of his scenes, so enchanted the people -as to continue the reigning favourite of the stage, even long after -Afranius and Terence had appeared on it. Nay the humour continued -through the Augustan age[25], when, as we learn from Horace, in many -parts of his writings, the public applause still followed Plautus; in -whom though himself could see many faults, yet he does not appear -to have gone so far, as, upon the whole, to give the preference to -Terence. Afterwards indeed the case altered. Paterculus admires; and -Plutarch and Quintilian are perfectly charmed: _ita omnem vitæ imaginem -expressit, ita est omnibus rebus, personis, affectibus accommodatus_. -This character, one would think, should have fitted him also for a -complete model to the orator. And this, as might be expected, was -Quintilian’s opinion. For, though he saw, as appears from the passage -already quoted, that the writers of the old comedy were, in fact, -_the likest to orators, and the most proper to form them to the -practice of the Forum_, yet, in admiration of the absolute perfection -of Menander’s manner, and criticising him by the rules of a just and -accurate rhetoric, and not at all in the views of a practical orator, -he pronounces him to be a complete pattern of oratorial excellence: -_vel unus, diligenter lectus, ad cuncta efficienda sufficiat_, l. x. -c. 1. Yet Cicero, it seems, thought otherwise; for he scarcely, as I -remember, mentions the name of Menander in his rhetorical books, though -he is very large in commending the authors of the old Greek comedy. The -reason was unquestionably that we have been explaining: The delicate -observance of decorum, for which this poet was so famous, _in omnibus -mire custoditur ab hoc poeta decorum_, rendered him an unfit model for -a popular speaker, especially in Rome, where an orator was much more -likely to carry his point by the _vis comica_, the _broader mirth_ -of Aristophanes, or Plautus, than by the delicate railleries, and -exquisite paintings of Menander, or Terence. - - * * * * * - -273. SI MODO EGO ET VOS SCIMUS INURBANUM LEPIDO SEPONERE DICTO.] It was -very late ere the ancients became acquainted with this distinction. -Indeed it does not appear, they ever possessed it in that supreme -degree, which might have been expected from their exquisite discernment -in other instances. Even Horace himself, though his pictures of life -are commonly the most delicate, and wrought up in the highest beauty -of humour, yet, when he affects the _plaisant_, and purposely aims -at the comic style and manner, is observed to sink beneath himself -extremely. The truth is, there is something low, and what the French -call _grossier_, in the whole cast of ancient wit; which is rather a -kind of rude, illiberal satire, than a just and temperate ridicule, -restrained by the exact rules of civility and good sense. This a -celebrated writer, who seems willing to think the most favourably of -the ancient wits, in effect owns, when, after quoting certain instances -of their raillery, he says, _Ces exemples, quoique vifs et bons en -leur genre, ont quëlque chose de trop dur, qui ne s’accommoderoit pas -à nôtre maniere de vivre; et ce seroit ce que nous appellons rompre en -visiers, que de dire en face des veritez aussi forts que celles-là_. -[Rec. de bons Contes et de bons Mots, p. 89.] This rudeness, -complained of, appears in nothing more evident, than in their perpetual -banter on corporal infirmities, which runs through all the wits both -of Greece and Rome. And to shew us, that this was not a practice, -they allowed themselves in against rule, Cicero mentions corporal -infirmities [De Or. l. ii. c. 59.] as one of the most legitimate -sources of the RIDICULOUS. _Est deformitatis et corporis vitiorum satis -bella materies._ And in another place, _Valde ridentur etiam imagines, -quæ fere in deformitatem, aut in aliquod vitium corporis ducuntur cum -similitudine turpioris_, &c. [ib. c. 66.] And this, which is very -remarkable, though they saw the absurdity of it, as appears from the -answer of Lamia, recorded by Cicero, to a joke of this kind, _Non potui -mihi formam ipse fingere_, [ib. c. 65.] The universal prevalence of a -practice so absurd in itself, and seen by themselves to be so, in the -two politest states of the old world, must needs have sprung from some -very _general_, and _powerful_ cause; which, because it hath not, that -I know of, been considered by any writer, I shall here attempt to open -and explane. The subject is curious, and would require a volume to do -it justice. I can only hint at the principal reasons, which appear to -me to have been these. - -I. _The free and popular government of those states._ This, preserving -an equality of condition, and thereby spreading a fearlessness and -independency through all ranks and orders of men, of course produced -and indulged the utmost freedom of expression, uninfluenced by hopes -of favour, and unawed by fear of personal offence; the two sources, -from whence the civility of a more cautious ridicule is derived. Now -of all the species of raillery, the most natural and _obvious_ to a -people unrestrained by these causes, is ever the _coarsest_, such as -that on corporal deformities; as appears from its prevailing every -where, in all forms of government, among the lowest of the people, -betwixt whom those causes never subsist. But this reason involves in -it some particulars, which deserve to be considered. 1. The _orators_, -who catched it from the constitution themselves, contributed in -their turn to forward and help on this disposition to uncivilized -mirth. For, the form of their government requiring immediate, and -almost continual, applications to the people; and the nature of such -applications giving frequent exercise to their wit, it was natural for -them to suit it to the capacities of their auditory; if indeed they had -seen better themselves. Thus we find the orators in the Forum, even -in the later times of the Roman republic, exposing their adversary to -the broad mirth of the populace, by enlarging on his _low stature_, -_ugly face_, or _distorted chin_. Instances of which may be met with -in Cicero’s treatise De oratore; and even, as hath been observed, in -some orations and other pieces of Cicero himself. 2. From the _Forum_ -the humour insensibly spread amongst all orders, and particularly, -amongst the writers for the stage, where it was kept up in its full -vigour, or rather heightened to a further extravagance, the laughter -of the people being its more immediate and direct aim. But, the stage -not only conformed, as of course it would, to the spirit of the times -(which, for the reason already given, were none of the most observant -of decorum) but, as we shall also find, it had perhaps the greatest -influence in _producing and forming that spirit itself_. This will -appear, if we recollect, in few words, _the rise, progress, and -character of the ancient stage_. - -The Greek drama, we know, had its origin from the loose, licentious -raillery of the rout of Bacchus, indulging to themselves the freest -sallies of taunt and invective, as would best suit to lawless natures, -inspirited by festal mirth, and made extravagant by wine. Hence -arose, and with a character answering to this original, the _satyric -drama_; the spirit of which was afterwards, in good measure, revived -and continued in the old comedy, and itself preserved, though with -considerable alteration in the form, through all the several periods of -the Greek stage; even when tragedy, which arose out of it, was brought -to its last perfection. Much the same may be observed of the _Roman_ -drama, which, we are told, had its rise in the unrestrained festivity -of the rustic youth. This gave occasion to their _Satyræ_, that is, -medleys of an irregular form, acted for the diversion of the people. -And, when afterwards Livius Andronicus had, by a further reform, -reduced these _Satyræ_ into regular tragedies, another species of -buffoon ridicule was cultivated, under the name of _Atellanæ fabulæ_; -which, according to Diomedes’ character of them, _were replete with -jocular witticisms, and very much resembled the Greek satyrs_. _Dictis -jocularibus refertæ, similes fere sunt satyricis fabulis Græcorum._ -These were ever after retained, and annexed to their most regular -dramatic entertainments in Rome, just as the _satyrs_ were in Greece; -and this (as was seen in its place) though much pains was taken to -reform, if not wholly remove, them. But to shew how strong the passion -of the Romans was for this rude illiberal banter, even the licentious -character of the _Atellanes_ did not fully satisfy them; but, as -if they were determined to stick to their genuine rusticity, they -continued the _Satyræ_ themselves, under the name of _Exodia_, that is -farces of the grossest and most absurd composition; which, to heighten -the mirth of the day, were commonly interwoven with the Atellane -pieces. The reason of the continuance of such ribaldry in the politest -ages of Greece and Rome hath been inquired into. At present it appears, -what effect it must necessarily have upon the public taste. - -II. Another cause connected with the foregoing, and rising out of -it, seems to have been the festal licence of particular seasons, -such as the _Dionysia_ and _Panathenæa_, amongst the Greeks; and -the _Bacchanalia_ and _Saturnalia_, at Rome. These latter, it is -observable, were continued to the latest period of the Roman empire, -preserving in them an image, as well of the frank and libertine wit of -their old stage, as of the original equality and independency of their -old times. Quintilian thinks, that, with some regulation, good use -might have been made of these seasons of licence, for the cultivating -a just spirit of raillery in the orators of his time. As it was, there -is no doubt, they helped much to vitiate and deprave it. His words -are these: _Quin illæ ipsæ, quæ_ DICTA _sunt ac vocantur, quas certis -diebus festæ licentiæ dicere solebamus, si paulum adhibita ratione -fingerentur, aut aliquid in his serium quoque esset admixtum, plurimum -poterunt utilitatis afferre: quæ nunc juvenum, aut sibi ludentium -exercitatio est._ [Quint. l. iv. c. 3.] Besides, in Greece, the jester -was a character by profession, necessary to the pleasantry of private -feasts, and, as we learn from the fine satyr in Xenophon’s _Symposium_, -even in that polite age, welcome to all companies[26]. - -From these reasons I think it not difficult to account for the -coarseness of ancient wit. The free genius of the Greek and Roman -constitution was unquestionably its main spring and support. But, -when this character of their government was seconded by the freedom -of their demagogues, the petulance of the stage, and the uncontrouled -licence of recurring festival solemnities, it was no wonder, the -illiberal manner so thoroughly infected all ranks and degrees of -the people, as by no after diligence and refinement wholly to be -removed. And this theory is indeed confirmed by _fact_. For, when now -the tyranny of one man had ingrossed the power, and oppressed the -liberties, of Greece, their stage refined, their wit polished, and -Menander wrote. And though a thorough reform was never made in the -Roman stage, partly, as Quintilian thinks, from the intractability of -their language, but chiefly, it may be, as to the point in question, -from the long continuance of their rude farcical shews, yet something -like this appears to have followed upon the loss of their freedom; -as is plain from the improved delicacy of their later critics; who, -as Quintilian and Plutarch, are very profuse in their encomiums on -Menander, and the _new_ comedy; whereas we find little said of it -by the Augustan writers, who seem generally to have preferred the -coarser wit and pleasantry of the _old_. The state of modern wit too -confirms this account. For it has grown up, for the most part, under -limited monarchies, in which their scenical entertainments were more -moderate, or for plain reasons must less affect the public taste. -Whenever therefore a turn for letters has prevailed, a poignant, but -liberal kind of wit hath generally sprung up with it. Where it is worth -observing, the growing tyranny in some states hath either extinguished -it intirely, or refined it into an effeminate and timid delicacy, as -the growing licentiousness in others hath sunk it into a rude and -brutal coarseness; whilst by a due mixture of liberty and letters, we -have seen it acquire a proper temperament at home, and, as managed -by our best writers, exhibit a specimen of that strong, yet elegant -ridicule, which hath never yet been equalled by any other nation in the -world. - - * * * * * - -275. IGNOTUM TRAGICAE GENUS INVENISSE CAMENAE, &c.] The poet, having -just remarked the negligence of the Roman writers, in two or three -instances, and, at the same time recommended to them the superior care -and accuracy of the Greeks (all which is elegantly preparatory to the -last division of the epistle) proceeds in a short view of the Greek -drama, to insinuate, as well the successful pains of the Greek writers, -as the real state of the Roman stage; the complete glory of which could -only be expected, as immediately follows, from a spirit of diligence -and correctness. As this whole connexion is clear and easy, so is the -peculiar method, in which it is conducted, extremely proper. 1. To -shew, how great the advantage of their situation was over that of the -Greeks, he observes, that the latter had the whole constitution of the -drama to invent and regulate; which yet, by the application and growing -experience of their poets, was soon effected; their tragedy, all rude -and shapeless, as it was, in the cart of Thespis, appearing in its just -form and proportion on the stage of Æschylus; and their comedy also -(which, from that time, began to be cultivated) asserting its proper -character, and, but for the culpable omission of a chorus, reaching the -full extent and perfection of its kind. - -2. To shew, what still remained to them, he brings down the history of -tragedy no lower than Æschylus; under whom it received its due form and -all the essentials of its nature, yet still wanted, to its absolute -perfection, the further accuracy and correctness of a Sophocles. And, -for their comedy, he hints the principal defect of that; its omission, -after the manner of the new comedy, of the chorus. There is great -address in this conduct. The censure also implied in it, is perfectly -just. For, 1. the character of the Roman tragedy, in the times of -Horace, was exactly that of Æschylus. Æschylus, says Quintilian, -was the first, “_qui protulit tragœdias_,” i. e. who composed true -legitimate tragedies, _sublimis et gravis et grandiloquus sæpe usque ad -vitium; sed rudis in plerisque et incompositus_ [L. x. c. i.] the very -description, which Horace gives [2 Ep. i. 165.] of the Roman tragedy. - - _natura sublimis et acer, - Nam spirat tragicum satis et feliciter audet; - Sed turpem putat inscitus metuitque lituram._ - -2. The state of their comedy, as managed by their best writers, -Afranius and Terence, was, indeed, much more complete; yet wanted the -chorus, which, in the judgment of the poet, it seems, was equally -necessary to the perfection of this, as of the other drama. - -3. But the application is made in express terms. - - _Nil intentatum nostri liquere poetæ_, &c. - -_i. e._ our poets, as well as the Greek, have, in some degree, applied -themselves to improve and regulate the stage. In particular, a late -innovation, in taking their subjects, both of tragedy and comedy, from -domestic facts, is highly to be applauded. Their sole disadvantage is, -_a neglect or contempt of that labour and accuracy, which gave the last -perfection to the Greek scene_. - -After this clear and natural exposition of the connexion of these -lines, all the difficulties, that have been found in them by certain -great critics, vanish of themselves. And the reader now sees (what -the sagacious Heinsius thought impossible to be shewn) an ἀκολουθίαν, -or consistent, natural order in this part of the epistle; which was -in imminent danger of losing all its grace and beauty, by the wild -transpositions of that critic. - - * * * * * - -278. POST HUNC PERSONAE PALLAEQUE, &c.] M. _Dacier_ hath here puzzled -himself with a difficulty of his own raising. He wonders, that Horace -should omit, in this history, the other improvements of Æschylus, -mentioned by Aristotle, and that Aristotle, in his turn, should omit -those, mentioned by Horace. The truth is, neither of them intended -a complete account of the improvements of the Greek stage; but only -so much of them, as was necessary to the views of each. Aristotle, -treating of the _internal_ constitution of the drama, speaks of such -changes, made in it by Æschylus, as respected that end. Horace, -treating in general of its _form_, as perfected by the pains and -application of the same poet, selects those improvements only, which -contrast best to the rude essays of Thespis, and, while they imply the -rest, exhibit tragedy, as it were, in her proper person, on the stage. -The reader feels the effect of this in the poetry. - - * * * * * - -288. VEL QUI PRAETEXTAS, VEL QUI DOCUERE TOGATAS.] There hath been -much difficulty here in settling a very plain point. The question is, -whether _prætextas_ means _tragedy_, or a species of _comedy_? The -answer is very clear from Diomedes, whose account is, in short, this. -“^{1}_Togatæ_ is a general term for all sorts of Latin plays, adopting -the Roman customs and dresses; as _Palliatæ_ is, for all, adopting the -Græcian. Of the _Togatæ_, the several ^{2}species are, 1. _Prætexta_, or -_Prætextata_, in which Roman kings and generals were introduced, and -is so called, because the _prætexta_ was the distinguishing habit of -such persons. 2. _Tabernaria_, frequently called ^{3}_Togata_, though -that word, as we have seen, had properly a larger sense. 3. _Atellana._ -4. _Planipedis._” He next marks the difference of these several sorts -of _Togatæ_, from the similar, corresponding ones of the _Palliatæ_, -which are these: “1. ^{4}Tragœdia, absolutely so styled. 2. ^{5}Comœdia, -3. ^{6}Satyri. 4. ^{7}Μῖμος.” [These four sorts of the _palliatæ_ were -also probably in use at Rome; certainly, at least, the two former.] -It appears then from hence, that _prætextata_ was properly the Roman -tragedy. But he adds, “_Togata prætextata à tragœdia differt_, and it -is also said, _to be only like tragedy_, _tragœdiæ similis_.” What is -this difference and this likeness? The explanation follows. “^{8}Heroes -are introduced in _tragedy_, such as Orestes, Chryses, and the like. In -the _prætextata_, Brutus, Decius, or Marcellus.” So then we see, when -Græcian characters were introduced, it was called simply _tragœdia_; -when Roman, _prætextata_; yet both, tragedies. The sole difference lay -in the persons being foreign or domestic. The correspondence in every -other respect was exact. The same is observed of the Roman comedy; when -it adopted ^{9}Greek characters, it was called _comœdia_: when Roman, -^{20}_Togata Tabernaria_, or ^{3}_Togata_, simply. That the reader may -assure himself of the fidelity of this account, let him take it at -large, in the Grammarian’s own words. “^{1}Togatæ fabulæ dicuntur, quæ -scriptæ sunt secundum ritus et habitus hominum togatorum, id est, -Romanorum (Toga namque Romana est), sicut Græcas fabulas ab habitu æque -palliatas Varro ait nominari. ^{3}Togatas autem cum sit generale nomen, -specialiter tamen pro tabernariis, non modo communis error usurpat, -sed et poetæ.—Togatarum fabularum ^{2}species tot fere sunt, quot et -palliatarum. Nam prima species est togatarum, quæ prætextatæ dicuntur, -in quibus imperatorum negotia agebantur et publica, et reges Romani vel -duces inducuntur, personarum et argumentorum sublimitate ^{4}tragœdiis -similes: Prætextatæ autem dicuntur, quia fere regum vel magistratuum, -qui prætexta utuntur, in hujusmodi fabulis acta comprehenduntur. -Secunda species togatarum, quæ tabernariæ dicuntur, humilitate -personarum et argumentorum similitudine ^{5}comœdiis pares—Tertia -species est fabularum latinarum, quæ—Atellanæ dictæ sunt, similes -^{6}satyricis fabulis, Græcis. Quarta species est planipedis, Græce -dicitur ^{7}Μῖμος.—Togata prætextata, à ^{4}tragœdia differt. In tragœdia -^{8}heroes introducuntur. Pacuvius tragœdias nominibus heroicis scripsit -Oresten, Chrysen, et his similia. Item Accius. In prætextata autem -scribitur, Brutus, vel Decius, vel Marcellus. ^{19}Togata tabernaria -à ^{5}comœdia differt, quod in ^{9}comœdia Græci ritus inducuntur, -personæque Græcæ, Laches, Sostrata. In illa vero Latinæ.” [L. iii. -c. de Com. et Trag. diff.] With this account of Diomedes agrees -perfectly that of _Festus_; from which, however, M. Dacier draws a very -different conclusion. “Togatarum duplex est genus: prætextarum—et -tabernariarum.” His inference is, that prætextatæ, as being a species -of the togatæ, must needs be comedies; not considering that togata is -here a generic term, comprehending under it all the several species -both of the Roman tragedy and comedy. After what hath been said, -and especially, after the full and decisive testimony of Diomedes, -there can no longer be any doubt about the meaning of _prætextas_; -and one must be surprized to find M. Dacier prefacing his long note -on this place in the following important manner: _C’est un des plus -difficiles passages d’Horace, et peutêtre celui qu’il est le plus mal -aisé d’eclaircir à cause du peu de lumiere que nous donnent les auteurs -Latins sur tout ce qui regarde leurs pieces de theatre_. - - * * * * * - -281. SUCCESSIT VETUS HIS COMOEDIA, &c.] _i. e._ Comedy began to be -cultivated and improved from the time that tragedy had obtained its -end, ἔσχε τὴν ἑαυτῆς φύσιν, under Æschylus. There is no reason to -suppose, with some critics, that Horace meant to date its origin from -hence. The supposition is, in truth, contradicted by _experience_ and -the _order of things_. For, as a celebrated French writer observes, -“_Le talent d’imiter, qui nous est naturel, nous porte plutôt à -la comedie qui roule sur des choses de nôtre connoissance qu’à la -Tragedie, qui prend des sujets plus èloignés de l’usage commun; et -en effet, en Gréce aussi bien qu’en France, la Comedie est l’aînée -de la tragedie_.” [Hist. du Theat. Franc. par M. de Fontenelle.] The -_latter_ part of this assertion is clear from the piece referred to; -and the _other_, which respects Greece, seems countenanced by Aristotle -himself [περ. ποιητ. κ. ε.] ’Tis true, Comedy, though its rise be every -where, at least, as early as that of tragedy, is perfected much later. -Menander, we know, appeared long after Æschylus. And, though the French -tragedy, to speak with Aristotle, ἔσχε τὴν ἑαυτῆς φύσιν in the hands -of Corneille, this cannot be said of their comedy, which was forced to -wait for a Moliere, before it arrived at that pitch of perfection. But -then this is owing to the superior difficulty of the comic drama. Nor -is it any objection that the contrary of this happened at Rome. For the -Romans, when they applied themselves in earnest to the stage, had not -to invent, but to imitate or rather _translate_, the perfect models of -Greece. And it chanced, for reasons which I shall not stay to deduce, -that their poets had better success in copying their _comedy_, than -_tragedy_. - - * * * * * - -284. TURPITER OBTICUIT—] Evidently because, though the _jus nocendi_ -was taken away, yet that was no good reason, why the chorus should -entirely cease. M. Dacier mistakes the matter. _Le chœur se tût -ignominieusement, parceque la loi reprima sa licence, et que ce fut, à -proprement parler, la loi qui le bannit; ce qu’ Horace regarde comme -une espece de flétrissure. Properly speaking_, the law only abolished -the _abuse_ of the chorus. The ignominy lay in dropping the entire use -of it, on account of this restraint. Horace was of opinion, that the -chorus ought to have been retained, though the state had abridged it of -the licence, it so much delighted in, of an illimited, and intemperate -satyr. _Sublatus chorus fuit_, says Scaliger, _cujus illæ videntur esse -præcipuæ partes, ut potissimum quos liberet, læderent_. - - * * * * * - -286. NEC MINIMUM MERUERE DECUS VESTIGIA GRÆCA AUSI DESERERE ET -CELEBRARE DOMESTICA FACTA.] This judgment of the poet, recommending -domestic subjects, as fittest for the stage, may be inforced from -many obvious reasons. As I. that it renders the drama infinitely -more _affecting_: and this on many accounts. 1. As a subject, taken -from our own annals, must of course carry with it an air of greater -probability, at least to the generality of the people, than one -borrowed from those of any other nation. 2. As we all find a personal -interest in the subject. 3. As it of course affords the best and -easiest opportunities of catching our minds, by frequent references to -our manners, prejudices, and customs. And of how great importance this -is, may be learned from hence, that, even in the exhibition of foreign -characters, dramatic writers have found themselves obliged to sacrifice -truth and probability to the humour of the people, and to dress up -their personages, contrary to their own better judgment, in some degree -according to the mode and manners of their respective countries[27]. -And 4. as the writer himself, from an intimate acquaintance with the -character and genius of his own nation, will be more likely to draw the -manners with life and spirit. - -II. Next, which should ever be one great point in view, it renders the -drama more generally useful in its moral destination. For, it being -conversant about domestic acts, the great instruction of the fable more -sensibly affects us; and the characters exhibited, from the part we -take in their good or ill qualities, will more probably influence our -conduct. - -III. Lastly, this judgment will deserve the greater regard, as the -conduct recommended was, in fact, the practice of our great models, the -Greek writers; in whose plays, it is observable, there is scarcely a -single scene, which lies out of the confines of Greece. - -But, notwithstanding these reasons, the practice hath, in all times, -been but little followed. The Romans, after some few attempts in -this way (from whence the poet took the occasion of delivering it as -a dramatic precept), soon relapsed into their old use; as appears -from Seneca’s, and the titles of other plays, written in, or after -the Augustan age. Succeeding times continued the same attachment to -Grecian, with the addition of an equal fondness for Roman, subjects. -The reason in both instances hath been ever the same: that strong and -early prejudice, approaching somewhat to adoration, in favour of the -illustrious names of those two great states. The account of this matter -is very easy; for their writings, as they furnish the business of our -younger, and the amusement of our riper, years, and more especially -make the study of all those, who devote themselves to poetry and the -stage, insensibly infix in us an excessive veneration for all affairs -in which they were concerned; insomuch that no other subjects or events -seem considerable enough, or rise, in any proportion, to our ideas of -the dignity of the tragic scene, but such as time and long admiration -have consecrated in the annals of their story. Our Shakespeare was, -I think, the first that broke through this bondage of classical -superstition. And he owed this felicity, as he did some others, to -his want of what is called the advantage of a learned education. Thus -uninfluenced by the weight of early prepossession, he struck at once -into the road of nature and common sense: and without designing, -without knowing it, hath left us in his historical plays, with all -their anomalies, an exacter resemblance of the Athenian stage, than is -any where to be found in its most professed admirers and copyists. - -I will only add, that, for the more successful execution of this rule -of celebrating domestic acts, much will depend on the æra, from -whence the subject is taken. Times too remote have almost the same -inconveniences, and none of the advantages, which attend the ages -of Greece and Rome. And, for those of later date, they are too much -familiarized to us, and have not as yet acquired that venerable cast -and air, which tragedy demands, and age only can give. There is no -fixing this point with precision. In the general, that æra is the -fittest for the poet’s purpose, which, though fresh enough in our minds -to warm and interest us in the event of the action, is yet at so great -a distance from the present times, as to have lost all those mean and -disparaging circumstances, which unavoidably adhere to recent deeds, -and, in some measure, sink the noblest modern transactions to the level -of ordinary life. - - * * * * * - -295. INGENIUM MISERA, &c.] _Sæpe audivi poetam bonum neminem (id -quod à Democrito et Platone in scriptis relictum esse dicunt) -sine inflammatione animorum existere posse et sine quodam afflatu -quasi furoris._ [Cic. De orat. l. ii. c. xlvi.] And so Petronius, -_præcipitandus liber spiritus, ut furentis animi vaticinatio appareat_. -[c. cxviii.] And to the same purpose every good critic, ancient or -modern. But who can endure the grimace of those minute _genii_, who, -because the truly inspired, in the ravings of the fit, are _touched_ -with the flame and fury of enthusiasm, must, therefore, with a tame, -frigid fancy, be laying claim to the same fervent and fiery raptures? -The fate of these _aspirants_ to divinity is that ἐνθουσιᾷν ἑαυτοῖς -δοκοῦντες, οὐ βακχεύουσιν, ἀλλὰ παίζουσιν [Longin. περ. ὕψ. τμημ. χ.] -And Quintilian opens the mystery of the whole matter: _Quo quisque -ingenio minus valet, hoc se magis attollere et dilatare conatur: ut -statura breves in digitos eriguntur et plura infirmi minantur. Nam -tumidos et corruptos et tinnulos et quocunque alio cacozeliæ genere -peccantes, certum habeo, non virium, sed infirmitatis vitio laborare: -ut corpora non robore, sed valetudine inflantur: et recto itinere lapsi -plerumque divertunt._ [L. ii. c. 3.] - - * * * * * - -298. BONA PARS NON UNGUES, &c.] The constant and pitiful affectation of -the race before spoken of, who, with the modesty of laying claim to the -_thing_, will be sure not to omit the _sign_, and so, from fancying an -inspiration, they have _not_ come to adopt every foppery, that has ever -disgraced it in those who _have_. - - * * * * * - -308. QUID DECEAT, QUID NON:] _Nihil est difficilius quam_, quid deceat, -_videre._ Πρέπον _appellant hoc Græci: nos dicamus sane_ Decorum. _De -quo præclare et multa præcipiuntur, et res est cognitione dignissima. -Hujus ignoratione non modo in vitâ, sed sæpissime in_ POEMATIS _et in -oratione peccatur._ [Orator. xxi.] - - * * * * * - -309. SCRIBENDI RECTE, SAPERE EST ET PRINCIPIUM ET FONS.] The Orator -was of the same mind, when he sent his pupil to the academy for -instruction. _Quis nescit maximam vim existere oratoris in hominum -mentibus vel ad iram, aut dolorem incitandis, vel ab hisce iisdem -permotionibus ad lenitatem misericordiamque revocandis? quæ, nisi qui -naturas hominum, vimque omnem humanitatis, causasque eas quibus mentes -aut incitantur aut reflectuntur, penitus perspexerit, dicendo, quod -volet, perficere non poterit. Atqui_ TOTUS HIC LOCUS PHILOSOPHORUM -PROPRIUS VIDETUR. [De Orat. l. i. c. xii.] And he spoke, we know, from -his own experience, _having acquired his oratorial skill not in the -schools of the rhetoricians, but the walks of the academy_: _fateor -me oratorem, si modo sim, aut etiam quicunque sim, non ex rhetorum -officinis, sed ex Academiæ spatiis extitisse_. [Orat. p. 622. Elz. ed.] -But the reason he gives for this advice, though common to the poet; -whose character, as well as the orator’s, it is, _posse voluntates -impellere, quo velis, unde velis, deducere_, is yet, not the only one, -which respects the poet. For his business is to _paint_, and that -not only, as the orator does, in order to move, but for the sole end -of _pleasing_: _solam petit voluptatem_. [Quinct. l. x. c. i.] The -boast of his art is to catch every different aspect of nature, and -more especially to exhibit the human character in every varying light -and form, under which it presents itself. But this is not to be done -without an exquisite study, and philosophical knowledge of man; to -which end, as is remarked in _n._ on v. 317. the Socratic philosophy -is more peculiarly adapted. Add to this, that it is the genius of -true poetry, not only to animate, but to _personalize_ every thing, -_omnia debent esse morata_. Hence the indispensable necessity of moral -science: all poetry being, in effect, what Mr. Dryden somewhere calls -comedy, THE THEFT OF POETS FROM MANKIND. - - * * * * * - -310. SOCRATICAE CHARTAE.] An admired writer, in many respects -deservedly so, thus comments on these words: “The philosophical -writings, to which our poet refers, were in themselves a kind of -poetry, like the _mimes_, or personated pieces of early times, before -philosophy was in vogue, and when as yet _Dramatical imitation_ -was scarce formed: or at least, in many parts, not brought to due -perfection. They were pieces, which, besides their force of style, and -hidden numbers, carried a sort of _action_ and _imitation_, the same as -the _Epic_ and _Dramatic_ kinds. They were either real dialogues, or -recitals of such personated discourses; where the persons themselves -had their characters preserved throughout; their manners, humours, -and distinct turns of temper and understanding maintained, according -to the most exact poetical truth. ’Twas not enough, that these pieces -treated fundamentally of morals, and, in consequence, pointed out -real characters and manners: They exhibited them alive, and set the -countenances and complexions of men plainly in view. And by this means -they not only taught us to know others; but, what was principal and -of highest virtue in them, they taught us to know ourselves.” Thus -far then these models are of unquestioned use to writers of every -denomination. I forbear to mention, what this noble author finds -occasion frequently to insinuate, and, by his own practice, labours -to recommend, the superior excellency of the _manner_, as well as -_matter_, of these highly-rated originals. Not that I presume to think -it unworthy of imitation. But the public taste, as appears, is running -full fast that way, insomuch that some may even doubt, if the state -of literary composition be more endangered by the neglect, or vicious -imitation, of the Platonic manner. Its graces, when sparingly employed -by a real genius, for the embellishment of strong sense, have, it -must be owned, great beauty. But when this humour of _platonizing_ -seizes on some minuter spirit, bent on ennobling a trivial matter, -and all over-run with academic delicacy and affectation, nothing, to -a just and manly relish, can be more disgusting. One must wink hard -not to see frequent examples of this, in the master Platonist himself. -But his mimics, of late, have gone much farther. There is no need, -in such a croud of instances, to point to particulars. What I would -rather observe is, that this folly, offensive as it is, may perhaps -admit of some excuse from the _present state of our literature_, and -_the character of the great original himself_, whom these writers -aspire to imitate. When a language, as ours at this time, hath been -much polished and enriched with perfect models of style in almost -every way, it is in the order of things, that the next step should be -to a _vicious affectation_. For the simplicity of true taste, under -these circumstances, grows insipid. Something _better than the best_ -must be aimed at; and the reader’s languid appetite raised by the -provocatives of an ambitious refinement. And this in _sentiment_, -as well as _language_. Whence we see how it happened, that even in -_Greece_ itself, where composition was studied with a more than common -accuracy, _Philosophy_, when it passed out of the hands of its great -masters, degenerated by degrees into the subtilties of sophistry, as -did _Eloquence_, likewise, into the tricks of rhetoric. - -But there was something, as I hinted, too, in the _character of the -writer imitated_, of a very ticklish and dangerous nature; and of which -our tribe of imitators were not sufficiently aware. A very exact critic -of antiquity hath told us what it was. It lay in Plato’s _bringing -the tumor of poetic composition into discourses of philosophy_, ΟΤΙ -ΤΟΝ ΟΓΚΟΝ ΤΗΣ ΠΟΙΗΤΙΚΗΣ ΚΑΤΑΣΚΕΥΗΣ ΕΠΙ ΛΟΓΟΥΣ ΗΓΑΓΕ ΦΙΛΟΣΟΦΟΥΣ[28]. -And though the experiment, for the most part, succeeded not amiss (as -what contradiction is there which superior genius cannot reconcile?) -yet it sometimes failed even in his hands. And as a French writer -well expresses it, Le DIVIN _Plato, pour avoir voulu s’elever trop au -dessus des hommes, est souvent tombè dans un_ GALIMATIAS _pompeux que -quelques uns confondent avec le_ SUBLIME. The PHAEDRUS, though the most -remarkable, is not the only example of such mischance in the writings -of this great man. - - * * * * * - -317. VERAS HINC DUCERE VOCES.] _Truth_, in poetry, means such an -expression, as conforms to the general nature of things; _falsehood_, -that, which, however suitable to the particular instance in view -doth yet not correspond to such _general nature_. To attain to this -_truth_ of expression in dramatic poetry two things are prescribed: -1. A diligent study of the Socratic philosophy; and 2. A masterly -knowledge and comprehension of human life. The _first_, because it is -the peculiar distinction of this school _ad veritatem vitæ propius -accedere_. [Cic. de Or. i. 51.] And the _latter_, as rendering the -imitation more universally striking. This will be understood by -reflecting that _truth_ may be followed too closely in works of -imitation, as is evident in two respects. For, 1. the artist, when -he would give a Copy of nature, may confine himself too scrupulously -to the exhibition of _particulars_, and so fail of representing the -general idea of the _kind_. Or, 2. in applying himself to give the -_general_ idea, he may collect it from an enlarged view of _real_ life, -whereas it were still better taken from the nobler conception of it -as subsisting only in the _mind_. This last is the kind of censure we -pass upon the _Flemish_ school of painting, which takes its model from -real nature, and not, as the _Italian_, from the contemplative idea of -beauty[29]. The _former_ corresponds to that other fault objected also -to the Flemish masters, which consists in their copying from particular -odd and grotesque nature in contradistinction to general and graceful -nature. - -We see then that in deviating from particular and partial, the poet -more faithfully imitates _universal_, truth. And thus an answer occurs -to that refined argument, which Plato invented and urged, with much -seeming complacency, against poetry. It is, that _poetical imitation -is at a great distance from truth_. “Poetical expression, says the -Philosopher, is the copy of the poet’s own conceptions; the poet’s -conception, of things, and things, of the standing archetype, as -existing in the divine mind. Thus the poet’s expression, is a copy at -third hand, from the primary, original truth.” [Plat. De rep. l. x.] -Now the diligent study of this rule of the poet obviates this reasoning -at once. For, by abstracting from existences all that peculiarly -respects and discriminates the _individual_, the poet’s conception, -as it were neglecting the intermediate particular objects, catches, as -far as may be, and reflects the divine archetypal idea, and so becomes -itself the copy or image of truth. Hence too we are taught the force -of that unusual encomium on poetry by the great critic, _that it is -something more severe and philosophical than history_, φιλοσοφώτερον -καὶ σπουδαιότερον ποίησις ἱστορίας ἐστίν. The reason follows, which -is now very intelligible; ἡ μὲν γὰρ ποίησις μᾶλλον τὰ καθόλου, ἡ -δ’ ἱστορία τὰ καθ’ ἕκαστον λέγει. [Περ. ποιητ. κ. θ.] And this will -further explain an essential difference, as we are told, between the -two great rivals of the Greek stage. Sophocles, in return to such -as objected a want of truth in his characters, used to plead, _that -he drew men such as they ought to be, Euripides such as they were_. -Σοφοκλῆς ἔφη, αὐτὸς μὲν οἵους δεῖ ποιεῖν, Εὐριπίδης δὲ οἷοί εἰσι. -[Περ. ποιητ. κ. κε.] The meaning of which is, Sophocles, from his more -extended commerce with mankind, had enlarged and widened the narrow, -partial conception, arising from the contemplation of _particular_ -characters, into a complete comprehension of the _kind_. Whereas the -philosophic Euripides, having been mostly conversant in the academy, -when he came to look into life, keeping his eye too intent on single, -really existing personages, sunk the _kind_ in the _individual_; and -so painted his characters naturally indeed, and _truly_, with regard -to the objects in view, but sometimes without that general and -universally striking likeness, which is demanded to the full exhibition -of poetical truth. - -But here an objection meets us, which must not be overlooked. It will -be said, “that philosophic speculations are more likely to render men’s -views _abstract_ and _general_ than to confine them to _individuals_. -This latter is a fault arising from the _small number_ of objects -men happen to contemplate: and may be removed not only by taking a -view of many _particulars_, which is knowledge of the world; but also -by reflecting on the _general nature_ of men, as it appears in good -books of morality. For the writers of such books form their _general_ -notion of human nature from an extensive experience (either their own, -or that of others) without which their writings are of no value.” -The answer, I think, is this. _By reflecting on the general nature -of man_ the philosopher learns, what is the tenor of action arising -from the predominancy of certain qualities or properties; _i. e._ in -general, what that conduct is, which the imputed character requires. -But to perceive clearly and certainly, how far, and with what degree -of strength this or that character will, on particular occasions, -most probably shew itself, this is the fruit only of a knowledge of -the world. Instances of a want of this knowledge cannot be supposed -frequent in such a writer, as Euripides; nor, when they occur, so -glaring as to strike a common reader. They are niceties, which can -only be discerned by the true critic; and even to _him_, at this -distance of time, from an ignorance of the Greek manners, that may -possibly appear a fault, which is a real beauty. It would therefore be -dangerous to think of pointing out the places, which Aristotle might -believe liable to this censure in Euripides. I will however presume to -mention one, which, if not justly criticized, will, at least, serve to -illustrate my meaning. - -The story of his _Electra_ is well known. The poet had to paint, in -the character of this princess, a virtuous, but fierce, resentful -woman; stung by a sense of personal ill treatment; and instigated -to the revenge of a father’s death, by still stronger motives. A -disposition of this warm temperament, it might be concluded by the -philosopher in his closet, would be prompt to shew itself. _Electra_ -would, on any proper occasion, be ready to avow her resentment, as -well as to forward the execution of her purpose. But to what lengths -would this _resentment_ go? _i. e._ what degree of fierceness might -_Electra_ express, without affording occasion to a person widely -skilled in mankind, and the operation of the passions, to say, “this -is improbable?” Here abstract theories will be of little service. Even -a moderate acquaintance with real life will be unable to direct us. -Many individuals may have fallen under observation, that will justify -the poet in carrying the expression of such a _resentment_ to any -extreme. History would, perhaps, furnish examples, in which a virtuous -resentment hath been carried even farther than is here represented by -the poet. What way then of determining the precise bounds and limits -of it? Only by observing in numerous instances, _i. e._ from a large -extensive knowledge of practical life, how far it usually, in such -characters, and under such circumstances, prevails. Hence a difference -of representation will arise in proportion to the extent of that -_knowledge_. Let us now see, how the character before us, hath, in -fact, been managed by Euripides. - -In that fine scene, which passes between Electra and Orestes, whom as -yet she suspects not to be her brother, the conversation very naturally -turns upon Electra’s distresses, and the author of them, Clytæmnestra, -as well as on her hopes of deliverance from them by the means of -Orestes. The dialogue upon this proceeds: - -_Or._ What then of Orestes, were he to return to this Argos? - -_El._ Ah! wherefore that question, when there is no prospect of his -return at all? - -_Or._ But supposing he should return, how would he go about to revenge -the death of his father? - -_El._ In the same way, in which that father suffered from the daring -attempts of his enemies. - -_Or._ And could you then dare to undertake with him the murder of your -mother? - -_El._ Yes, with that very steel, with which she murdered my father. - -_Or._ And am I at liberty to relate this to your brother, as your fixed -resolution? - -_El._ I desire only to live, till I have murdered my mother. The Greek -is still stronger: - - _May I die, as soon as I have murdered my mother!_ - -Now that this last sentence is absolutely unnatural, will not be -pretended. There have been doubtless many examples, under the like -circumstances, of an expression of revenge carried thus far. Yet, I -think, we can hardly help being a little shocked at the fierceness of -_this_ expression. At least _Sophocles_ has not thought fit to carry -it to that extreme. In him, _Electra_ contents herself with saying to -_Orestes_, on a similar occasion: - -“The conduct of this affair now rests upon you. Only let me observe -this to you, that, had I been left alone, I would not have failed in -one of these two purposes, either to deliver myself gloriously, or to -perish gloriously.” - -Whether this representation of Sophocles be not more agreeable to -_truth_, as collected from wide observation, i. e. from human nature -at large, than that of Euripides, the capable reader will judge. If -it be, the reason I suppose to have been, _that Sophocles painted his -characters, such, as, from attending to numerous instances of the -same kind, he would conclude they ought to be; Euripides, such, as a -narrower sphere of observation had persuaded him they were_. - - * * * * * - -319. INTERDUM SPECIOSA LOCIS, &c.] The poet’s science in _ethics_ will -principally shew itself in these two ways, 1. in furnishing proper -matter for general reflexion on human life and conduct; and, 2. in a -due adjustment of the manners. By the former of these two applications -of moral knowledge a play becomes, what the poet calls, _speciosa -locis_, i. e. (for the term is borrowed from the rhetoricians) -_striking in its moral topics_: a merit of the highest importance on -the ancient stage, and which, if prudently employed in subserviency to -the _latter_ more essential requisite of the drama, _a just expression -of the manners_, will deserve to be so reputed at all times and on -every theatre. The danger is, lest a studied, declamatory _moral_, -affectedly introduced, or indulged to excess, should prejudice the -natural exhibition of the _characters_, and so convert _the image of -human life_ into an unaffecting, philosophical dialogue. - - * * * * * - -319. MORATAQUE RECTE FABULA, &c.] This judgment of the poet, in regard -of the superior efficacy of _manners_, is generally thought to be -contradicted by Aristotle; who in treating this subject, observes, -“that let a piece be never so perfect in the _manners_, _sentiments_, -and _style_, it will not so well answer the end and purpose of -tragedy, as if defective in these, and finished only in the fable and -composition.” Ἐάν τις ἐφεξῆς θῇ ῥήσεις ἠθικὰς καὶ λέξεις καὶ διανοίας -εὖ πεποιημένας, οὐ ποιήσει ὃ ἦν τῆς τραγῳδίας ἔργον, ἀλλὰ πολὺ μᾶλλον -ἡ καταδεεστέροις τούτοις κεχρημένη τραγῳδία, ἔχουσα δὲ μῦθον καὶ -σύστασιν πραγμάτων. Κεφ. ϛʹ. M. Dacier thinks to clear this matter -by saying, “that what Aristotle remarks holds true of tragedy, but -not of comedy, of which alone Horace is here speaking.” But granting -that the artificial contexture of the fable is less necessary to the -perfection of comedy, than of tragedy (as it certainly is), yet the -tenor of this whole division, exhorting to correctness in general, -makes it unquestionable, that Horace must intend to include _both_. -The case, as it seems to me, is this. The poet is not comparing -the respective importance of the _fable_ and _manners_, but of the -_manners_ and _diction_, under this word including also _numbers_. -He gives them the preference _not_ to a _good plot_, nor even to -_fine sentiments_, but to _versus inopes rerum nugæque canoræ_. The -_art_ he speaks of, is the art of _expressing_ the thoughts properly, -gracefully, and harmoniously: the _pondus_ is the force and energy of -good _versification_. _Venus_ is a general term including both kinds -of beauty. _Fabula_ does not mean the _fable_ (in distinction from the -rest) but simply _a play_. - - * * * * * - -323. GRAIIS INGENIUM, &c.] The Greeks being eminent for _philosophy_, -especially _morals_; the last observation naturally gives rise to this. -For the transition is easy from their superiority, as philosophers, -to their superiority as poets; and the more easy, as the latter is -shewn to be, in part, the effect of the former. Now this superiority of -the Greeks in genius and eloquence (which would immediately occur, on -mentioning the _Socraticæ chartæ_) being seen and confessed, we are led -to ask, “whence this arises.” The answer is, from their making _glory_, -not _gain_, the object of their wishes. - - * * * * * - -330. AERUGO ET CURA PECULI CUM SEMEL IMBUERIT, &c.] This _love of -gain_, to which Horace imputes the imperfect state of the Roman poetry, -hath been uniformly assigned, by the wisdom of ancient times, as the -specific bane of arts and letters. _Longinus_ and _Quintilian_ account, -from hence, for the decay of eloquence, _Galen_ of physic, _Petronius_ -of painting, and _Pliny_, of the whole circle of the liberal arts. An -ingenious modern is indeed for carrying his views much further. He, -it seems, would account [Refl. sur la Poes. et sur la Peint. v. ii. § -xiv.] for this _public degeneracy_ of taste and literature, not from -the malignity of the selfish passions, but the baleful influences of -the air, emulating, I suppose, herein, the wisdom of that philosophy, -which teaches to lay the _private degeneracy_ of individuals on the -stars. Thus much however may be true, that other causes have generally -co-operated with it. Some of these, as might be shewn, did not escape -the attention of these wise ancients. Yet they did right to insist -chiefly on _this_, which is every way equal to the effect ascribed to -it. It is so in its _nature_: For being, as Longinus calls it, νόσημα -μικροποιὸν, _a disease which narrows and contracts the soul_, it must, -of course, restrain the generous efforts and expansions of genius; -cramp the free powers and energies of the mind, and render it unapt to -open itself to wide views, and to the projection of great, extensive -designs. It is so in its _consequences_. For, as one says elegantly, -_when the passion of avarice grows general in a country, the temples -of Honour are soon pulled down, and all men’s sacrifices are made to -Fortune_[30]. Thus extinguishing the sense of honour, that divinest -movement in our frame, and the only one, which can invigorate the mind -under the long labours of invention, it must needs be, that the fire -and high spirit of genius go out with it; and dragging in its train the -_love of pleasure_, that unmanliest of all the passions, it diffuses -such a languor and impotency over the mind, as must leave it at length -a prey to a supine wasting indolence; till, as Longinus observes of his -own age (and let every friend to letters deprecate the omen), Πάντες -ἐγκαταβιοῦμεν, οὐκ ἄλλως πονοῦντες, ἢ ἀναλαμβάνοντες, εἰ μὴ ἐπαίνου καὶ -ἡδονῆς ἕνεκα, ἀλλὰ μὴ τῆς ζήλου καὶ τιμῆς ἀξίας ποτὲ ὠφελείας. - - * * * * * - -333. AUT PRODESSE VOLUNT, AUT DELECTARE POETAE, &c.] Though these lines -have the appearance of general criticism, yet do they more especially -respect the dramatic poesy. This will be evident from attending to -the context. The full boast and glory of the drama is to _delight_ -and _instruct_ mankind. 1. The latter praise was more especially due -to the ancient tragic muse, who did not think it sufficient to paint -lovely pourtraitures of _public_ and _social_ virtue, and to call in -the moralizing chorus to her assistance, but, which was one of her -discriminating characters, she was perpetually inculcating every branch -of true moral in those brief sententious precepts, which inform and -solemnize her page. To these precepts then the poet manifestly refers -in those lines, - - _Quicquid præcipies, esto brevis; ut cito dicta - Percipiant animi dociles, teneantque fideles_. - -But what follows is still clearer, [2.] The other end of the drama is -to _entertain_, and this by the means of _probable fiction_. - - _Ficta, voluptatis causa, sint proxima veris._ - -And the poet applies this to the case of the drama in express words: - - _Ne quodcunque volet, poscat sibi fabula credi: - Neu pransæ Lamiæ vivum puerum extrahat alvo_. - -The instance of _Lamia_, as Mr. Dacier observes, is certainly taken -from some poet of that time, who had been guilty of this misconduct. -The reader may learn from hence, how intently Horace pursues his design -of criticizing the _Roman_ stage, when, in treating a subject, from -its nature, the most general of any in the epistle, _viz. critical -correctness_, we yet find him so industriously recurring to this point. - - * * * * * - -343. MISCUIT UTILE DULCI.] The unnatural separation of the DULCE -ET UTILE hath done almost as much hurt in _letters_ as that of the -HONESTUM ET UTILE, which Tully somewhere complains of, hath done in -_morals_. For while the polite writer, as he is called, contents -himself with the _former_ of these qualities, and the man of erudition -with the _latter_, it comes to pass, as the same writer expresses it, -that ET DOCTIS ELOQUENTIA POPULARIS, ET DISERTIS ELEGANS DOCTRINA DESIT -[Orat. iii.] - - * * * * * - -363. HAEC AMAT OBSCURUM, VOLET HAEC SUB LUCE VIDERI.] Cicero hath -given the same precept in relation to oratory, _habeat illa in dicendo -admiratio ac summa laus umbram aliquam et recessum, quo magis id, quod -erit illuminatum, extare atque eminere videatur_. [De orat. l. iii. c. -xxvi.] - - * * * * * - -373. MEDIOCRIBUS ESSE POETIS NON HOMINES, &c.] This judgment, however -severe it may seem, is according to the practice of the best critics. -We have a remarkable instance in the case of _Apollonius Rhodius_, who, -though, in the judgment of Quintilian, the author of no contemptible -poem, yet on account of that _equal mediocrity_, which every where -prevails in him, was struck out of the list of good writers by such -sovereign judges of poetical merit, as Aristophanes and Aristarchus. -[Quint. l. x. c. i.] - - * * * * * - -403. DICTAE PER CARMINA SORTES,] The oracles here spoken of, are such -as respect not _private persons_ (whom a natural curiosity, quickened -by anxious superstition, has ever prompted to pry into their future -fortunes) but _entire communities_; and for these there was little -place, till Ambition had inspired great and eventful designs, and by -involving the fate of nations, had rendered the knowledge of futurity -_important_. Hence, in marking the progress of ancient poesy, Horace -judiciously postpones _oracles_, to the _celebration_ of martial -_prowess_, as being that, which gave the principal _eclat_ to them. -This species of poetry then is rightly placed, though it be true, as -the commentators have objected, that oracles were much ancienter than -Homer, and the Trojan war. - - * * * * * - -404. ET VITAE MONSTRATA VIA EST;] Meaning the writings of _Theognis_, -_Phocylides_, _Hesiod_, and others, which, consisting wholly of moral -precepts, are elegantly said to lay open, or discover _the road -of life_. Mr. Dacier’s interpretation, which makes the poet mean -_physics_ by _viam vitæ_, is supported by no reason. _Il ne faut pas_, -says he, _entendre ceci de la philosophie et des mœurs_; CAR _Horace -se contrediroit, puisque il a dit que ce fut le premier soin de la -poesie_. The learned critic did not consider, that the first care of -poesy, as explained above, and as employed by _Orpheus_ and _Amphion_, -was to inculcate _policy_, not _moral_. - - * * * * * - -404. ET GRATIA REGUM, PIERIIS TENTATA MODIS, LUDUSQUE REPERTUS, ET -LONGORUM OPERUM FINIS: NE FORTE PUDORI SIT TIBI MUSA LYRAE SOLERS, -ET CANTOR APOLLO.] This is one of those master-strokes, which make -the sovereign charm of this poet. But the way in which it hath been -understood, extinguishes all its grace and beauty. _On les vers -employa_, says an interpreter, who speaks the sense of the rest, _à -gagner la faveur des rois, et on les mit de tous les jeux et de tous -les spectacles, qu’on inventa pour se delasser de ses longs travaux et -de toutes ses fatigues. Je vous dis cela afin que vous n’ayez point -de honte de faire la cour aux Muses et à Apollon._ And, lest this -should not seem explicit enough, he adds in a couple of notes, that by -_ludus repertus_, &c. _il_ [le poete] _veut parler des tragedies et -des comedies que l’on faisoit jour dans les fêtes solemnelles_. And -then, as to the _ne forte pudori_, _Cela prouve qu’ Horace ne fait -cet eloge de la poesie que pour empecher que Pison n’en fût degouté_. -Can any thing be more insipid? For could the poet think so meanly of -his art, as to believe it wanted an apology? Or had the _courtier_ so -little address, as to direct that apology immediately to the Pisos? -Besides, what species of poesy is it that he labours to excuse? Why, -according to this interpretation, the _dramatic_: the supreme boast of -his art, and the main subject of the epistle. And in what _manner_ does -he excuse it? Why, in recommending it, as an agreeable amusement. But -his master, Aristotle, would have furnished him with a nobler plea: and -’tis certain, the ancients talked at another rate of the use and end -of the drama. Let us see then, if the sense, given in the commentary, -will bring any relief to the poet. In fact, this whole passage [from -_et vitæ_, &c. to _cantor Apollo_] obliquely glances at the two sorts -of poetry peculiarly cultivated by himself, and is an indirect apology -for his own choice of them. For 1. _vitæ monstrata via est_ is the -character of his _sermones_. And 2. all the rest, of his _Odes_. These -are recommended, agreeably to their nature, 1. as of use to _conciliate -the favour of princes_; hereby glancing at the success of his own odes, -and, with the happiest address, insinuating the regard, which Augustus -paid to letters. 2. As contributing to the mirth and entertainment of -feasts, and especially as holding a principal place in the celebration -of those more sacred, secular festivities (_longorum operum finem_) -which could not be duly solemnized, without the ministration of the -lyric muse. - - _Castis cum pueris ignara puella mariti, - Disceret unde preces, vatem ni musa dedisset?_ - 2 Ep. i. 132. - -And again: - - _ego Diis amicum, - Sæculo festas referente luces, - Reddidi carmen docilis modorum - Vatis Horatî_. - Carm. Sec. - -In another place both ends are expressed: - - _testudo - Divitum_ MENSIS _et amica_ TEMPLIS. - 3 Od. xi. - -Where it may be observed, this double character of lyric poetry exactly -corresponds to that, which the poet had before expressly given of it in -this very epistle: the _gratia regum_ being the same as - - _Musa dedit fidibus Divos puerosque Deorum - Et pugilem victorem et equum certamine primum_. - v. 83. - -And _ludusque repertus_, describing its other office, - - _Et juvenum curas et libera vina referre_. - ib. - -In this view the following line, which apologizes, not for poesy in -general, or its noblest species, the drama, but for his own lyrics -only, hath, as the reader perceives, infinite grace; and is peculiarly -marked with that vein of exquisite humour, so suited to the genius of -the epistle, and which makes one of the distinguishing beauties of -the poet. It hath also an extreme _propriety_; the levity of the ode -admitting, or rather requiring some apology to the Pisos; who would be -naturally led to think but meanly of it, in comparison of the sublimer -dramatic poetry. I must add, the very terms of the apology so expresly -define and characterize lyric poetry, that it is something strange, it -should have escaped vulgar notice: _musa lyræ solers_ being evidently -explained by _Romanæ fidicen lyræ_ [4 Od. iii. 23.] and the epithet -_cantor_, describing Apollo, as clearly as words can do it, in the -peculiar character of _Lyric_. - - * * * * * - -407. CANTOR APOLLO. NATURA FIERET, &c.] The transition is delicate, -and a fine instance of that kind of method, which the Epistle demands. -The poet had just been speaking of the ode, and its inspirer, _cantor -Apollo_; and this, in the natural train of his ideas, suggested that -enthusiasm, and stretch of genius, which is at once the characteristic -and glory of the lyric composition. And this was ground enough, in an -Epistle, to pass on to say something concerning the power and influence -of genius in poetry in general. It was for want of attending to so -plain a reflexion as this, that the excellent Heinsius trifled so -egregiously, in his transpositions of the Epistles, and in particular -of this very place. And the hasty censures, which M. Dacier passed -on the poet’s method, are apparently owing to no other cause. [See -his introduct. remarks.] But to declare my sense at parting, of the -_latter_ of these critics, I would say, as he himself does of the -former, _C’est assez parlé contre M._ DACIER, _dont j’estime et admire -autant la profonde érudition, que je condamne la mauvais usage qu’il -en a fait en quelques rencontres_. - - * * * * * - -410. ALTERIUS SIC ALTERA POSCIT OPEM RES, ET CONJURAT AMICE.] This -conclusion, “that art and nature must conspire to the production of -a perfect piece,” is, in the general, unquestionably just. If we -would know the distinct powers and provinces of each, a fine passage -in Longinus will inform us. For, of the five sources of the sublime, -enumerated by that critic, two only, “a grandeur of conception, and -the pathetic,” come from _nature_: the rest, “a just arrangement of -figures,” “a splendid diction,” and “dignity of composition,” are of -the province of _art_. Yet, though their powers are thus distinct, -each, in order to attain its due perfection, must conspire, and be -consociated, with the other. For that “sublime of conception” and -“pathetic enthusiasm” never make a more sure and lasting impression, -than when cloathed in the graces, and moderated by the sober sense -of _art_: as, on the contrary, the milder beauties of “language” and -“artificial composition” are never so secure of seizing the attention, -as when raised and inspirited by the _pathos_, or _sublime_. So that -the nature of the union, here recommended, is such, as makes it not -only necessary to the completion of that great end, _viz._ the glory of -perfect composition; but that either part, in the alliance, may fully -effect its own. All which is but the larger explication of another -passage in Longinus, who teaches, that ΤΟΤΕ Η ΤΕΧΝΗ ΤΕΛΕΙΟΣ, ΗΝΙΚ’ ΑΝ -ΦΥΣΙΣ ΕΙΝΑΙ ΔΟΚΗΙ· Η Δ’ ΑΥ ΦΥΣΙΣ ΕΠΙΤΥΧΗΣ, ΟΤΑΝ ΛΑΝΘΑΝΟΥΣΑ ΠΕΡΙΕΧΗΙ ΤΗΝ -ΤΕΧΝΗΝ. [περ. ὑψ. τμη. κβʹ.] - - -But here, in parting, it will be amusing, perhaps, to the curious -reader to observe, what perpetual matter of debate this question hath -furnished to the ancient learned. - - -It seems first to have taken its rise from the high pretension of -poets to inspiration [see Pind. Od. iii. Nem.], which was afterwards -understood in too literal a sense, and in time extended to all works -of genius or imitation. The orator, who, as Cicero tells us, is _near -a-kin to the poet_, set up the same claim; principally, as it should -seem, on the authority of Socrates, who, taking occasion from the ill -use that had been made of _rhetoric_, to decry it as an _art_, was -herein followed by the most illustrious of his scholars; amongst whom -was Aristotle, [Quinct. l. ii. c. 17.] who had written a set treatise -professedly with this view, though his books of rhetoric proceed on -very different principles. The question afterwards appeared of so much -moment to Cicero, that he discussed it in form, in one of his dialogues -De Oratore. And Quinctilian, in still later times, found himself -obliged to resume the same debate, and hath accordingly considered it -in an entire chapter. - -The long continuance of so frivolous a dispute, and which admits so -easy a decision, would go near to persuade one, if, as Shakespeare -speaks, _they had not the privilege of antiquity upon them_, that the -pens of the ancient _literati_ were not always more wisely employed, -than those of modern controversialists. If we ask the reason, it would -seem to be owing to that ambitious spirit of subtlety and refinement, -which, as Quintilian observes, _puts men upon teaching not what -they believe to be true, but what, from the falsehood or apparent -strangeness of the matter, they expect the praise of ingenuity from -being able to maintain_. This, I say, might seem to be the cause of -so much perversity, on the first view, and unquestionably it had its -influence. But the truth is, the real cause was something more general -and extensive. It was, in fact, that _natural proneness_, so Longinus -terms it, _in mankind, to censure and degrade things present_, ἴδιον -ἀνθρώπου καταμέμφεσθαι τὰ παρόντα. This in nothing holds truer, -than in what concerns the state of literature; as may be seen from -that unwearied industry of the learned to decry whatever appears to -be the prevailing taste of the times; whether it be in suggesting -some defect to be made good by future improvements; or, as is more -common, because the easier and less invidious task, in setting up, -and magnifying some former examples of a different cast and merit. -Thus, in the case before us, exquisite art and commanding genius, -being the two only means of rising to superior literary excellence, -in proportion as any age became noted for the one, it was constantly -defamed, and the preference given to the other. So, during the growth -of letters in any state, when a sublimity of sentiment and strength -of expression make, as under those circumstances they always will, -the characteristic of the times, the critic, disgusted with the rude -workings of nature, affects to admire only the nicer finishings and -proportions of art. When, let but the growing experience of a few years -refine and perfect the public taste, and what was before traduced as -roughness and barbarity, becomes at once nerves, dignity, and force. -Then art is effeminacy; and judgment want of spirit. All now is rapture -and inspiration. The exactest modern compositions are unmanly and -unnatural, _et solos veteres legendos putant, neque in ullis aliis esse -naturalem eloquentiam et robur viris dignum arbitrantur_. [Quinct. l. -x. c. i.] The truth of this observation might he justified from many -examples. The learning and art of _Pacuvius_ (for so I understand the -epithet _doctus_) carried it before the sublime of _Accius_; just as in -elder Greece the smooth and correct _Simonides_, _tenuis Simonides_, -as Quinctilian characterizes him, bore away the prize from the lofty -and high-spirited _Æschylus_. Afterwards indeed the case was altered. -The Athenians, grown exact in the rules of good writing, became so -enamoured of the bold flights of Æschylus, as with a little correction -to admit him on the stage, who, by this means, frequently gained the -prize from a polite and knowing people, for what had certainly lost it -him in the simpler, and less informed theatre of his own times. Thus -too it fared with the elder Latin poets, who, though admired indeed in -their own age, but with considerable abatement from the reason before -assigned, were perfectly idolized in that of Augustus; so as to require -the sharpest satire of our poet, to correct the malevolent principle -from whence the affectation arose. But the observation holds of our own -writers. There was a time, when the art of JONSON was set above the -divinest raptures of SHAKESPEARE. The present age is well convinced of -the mistake. And now the genius of SHAKESPEARE is idolized in its turn. -Happily for the public taste, it can scarcely be too much so. Yet, -should any, in the rage of erecting trophies to the genius of ancient -poesy, presume to violate the recent honours of more correct poets, -the cause of such critical perversity will be ever the same. For all -admiration of past times, when excessive, is still to be accounted for -the same way, - - _Ingeniis non ille favet plauditque sepultis, - Nostra sed impugnat, nos nostraque lividus odit_. - - -THE END OF THE NOTES ON THE ART OF POETRY. - - - - -Q. HORATII FLACCI - -EPISTOLA AD AUGUSTUM. - - - - -TO THE REVEREND - -MR. WARBURTON. - - -REVEREND SIR, - -Give me leave to present to you the following Essay on the _Epistle -to Augustus_; which, whatever other merit it may want, is secure of -this, that it hath been planned upon the best model. For I know not -what should hinder me from declaring to you in this public manner, -that it was the early pleasure I received from what you had written of -this sort, which _first_ engaged me in the province of criticism. And, -if I have taken upon me to illustrate _another_ of the finest pieces -of antiquity after the _same method_, it is because I find myself -encouraged to do so by higher considerations, than even the Authority -of your example. - -CRITICISM, considered in its ancient and noblest office of doing -justice to the merits of great writers, more especially in works -of poetry and invention, demands, to its perfect execution, these -two qualities: _a philosophic spirit_, capable of penetrating the -fundamental reasons of excellence in every different species of -composition; and _a strong imagination_, the parent of what we call -_true taste_, enabling the critic to feel the full force of his -author’s excellence himself, and to impress a lively sense of it -upon others. Each of these abilities is necessary. For by means of -philosophy, criticism, which were otherwise a vague and superficial -thing, acquires the soundness and solidity of science. And from the -_power of fancy_, it derives that light and energy and spirit, which -are wanting to provoke the public emulation and carry the general -conclusions of reason into practice. - -Of these talents (to regard them in their separate state) that of a -_strong imagination_, as being the commoner of the two, one would -naturally suppose should be the first to exert itself in the service of -criticism. And thus it seems, in fact, to have happened. For there were -very early in Greece a sort of men, who, under the name of RHAPSODISTS, -made it their business to illustrate the beauties of their favourite -writers. Though their art, indeed, was very simple; for it consisted -only in _acting_ the finest passages of their works, and in _repeating_ -them, with a rapturous kind of vehemence, to an ecstatic auditory. -Whence it appears, that criticism, as being yet in its infancy, was -wholly turned to _admiration_; a passion which true _judgment_ as -little indulges in the schools of _Art_, as sound philosophy in those -of _Nature_. Accordingly these enraptured declaimers, though they -travelled down to the politer ages, could not subsist in them. The -fine ridicule of Plato, in one of his Dialogues[31], and the growing -taste for just thinking, seem perfectly to have discredited this folly. -And it was presently seen and acknowledged even by the Rhapsodist -himself, that, how _divinely_ soever he might feel himself affected by -the magnetic virtue of the muse, yet, as he could give no intelligible -account of its subtle operations, he was assuredly no _Artist_; ΘΕΙΟΝ -εἶναι καὶ μὴ ΤΕΧΝΙΚΟΝ ἐπαινέτην. - -From this time they, who took upon themselves the office of commenting -and recommending the great writers of Greece, discharged it in a very -different manner. Their researches grew severe, inquisitive, and -rational. And no wonder; for the person, who now took the lead in these -studies, and set the fashion of them, was a _philosopher_, and, which -was happy for the advancement of this art, the justest philosopher of -antiquity. Hence _scientific_ or speculative criticism attained to -perfection, at once; and appeared in all that severity of reason and -accuracy of method, which Aristotle himself could bestow upon it. - -But now this might almost seem as violent an extreme as the other. -For though to _understand_ be better than to _admire_, yet the -generality of readers _cannot_, or _will not_, understand, where there -is _nothing_ for them to admire. So that _reason_, for her own sake, -is obliged to borrow something of the dress, and to mimic the airs, -of _fancy_: And Aristotle’s _reason_ was too proud to submit to this -management. - -Hence, the critical plan, which the Stagirite had formed with such -rigour of science, however it might satisfy the curious speculatist, -wanted to be _relieved_ and set off to the common eye by the -heightenings of eloquence. This, I observed, was the easier task of the -two; and yet it was very long before it was _successfully_ attempted. -Amongst other reasons of this delay, the principal, as you observe, -might be the fall of the public freedom of Greece, which soon after -followed. For then, instead of the free and manly efforts of genius, -which alone could accomplish such a reformation, the trifling spirit of -the times declined into mere verbal amusements: “whence,” as you say, -“so great a cloud of scholiasts and grammarians so soon over-spread -the learning of Greece, when once that famous community had lost its -liberty[32].” - -And what Greece was thus unable, of a long time, to furnish, we shall -in vain seek in another great community, which soon after flourished, -in all liberal studies. The genius of Rome was bold and elevated enough -for this task. But Criticism, of any kind, was little cultivated, never -professed as an _art_, by this people. The specimens we have of their -ability in this way (of which the most elegant, beyond dispute, are -the two epistles to _Augustus_, and the _Pisos_) are slight occasional -attempts; made in the negligence of common sense, and adapted to the -peculiar exigencies of their own taste and learning: and not by any -means the regular productions of _art_, professedly bending itself to -this work, and ambitious to give the last finishing to the critical -system. - -For so great an effort as this we are to look back to the confines -of Greece. And there at length, and even from beneath the depression -of slavery (but with a spirit that might have done honour to its -age of greatest liberty) a CRITIC arose, singularly qualified for -so generous an undertaking. His profession, which was that of a -_rhetorical sophist_, required him to be fully instructed in the graces -and embellishments of eloquence; and these, the vigour of his genius -enabled him to comprehend in their utmost force and beauty. In a word, -LONGINUS was the person, whom, of all the critics of antiquity, nature -seems to have formed with the proper talents to give the last honour to -his profession, and penetrate the very soul of fine writing. - -Yet so bounded is human _wit_, and with such difficulty is human _art_ -compleated, that even here the advantage, which had been so fortunately -gained on the one hand, was, in great measure, lost and forfeited on -the other. He had softened indeed the severity of Aristotle’s plan; -but, in doing this, had gone back again too far into the manner of -the admiring Rhapsodist. In short, with the brightest views of nature -and true beauty, which the finest imagination could afford to the best -critic, he now wanted, in a good degree, that precision, and depth of -thought, which had so eminently distinguished his predecessor. For, as -Plotinus long ago observed of him, _though he had approved himself a -master of polite literature, he was_ NO _Philosopher_; ΦΙΛΟΛΟΓΟΣ ΜΕΝ, -ΦΙΛΟΣΟΦΟΣ ΔΕ ΟΥΔΑΜΩΣ. - -Thus the art had been shifting reciprocally into two extremes. And in -one or other of these extremes, it was likely to continue. For the fame -and eminent ability of their great founders had made them considered -as _models_, in their different ways, of perfect criticism. Only it -was easy to foresee which of them the humour of succeeding times would -be most disposed to emulate. The catching enthusiasm and picturesque -fancy of the _one_ would be sure to prevail over the coolness and -austerity of the _other_. Accordingly in the last and present century, -when now the diligence of learned men had, by restoring the purity, -opened an easy way to the study, of the old classics, a numberless -tribe of commentators have attempted, after the manner of Longinus, -to _flourish_ on the excellencies of their composition. And some of -them, indeed, succeeded so well in this method, that one is not to -wonder it soon became the popular and only authorized form of what was -reputed _just Criticism_. Yet, as nothing but superior genius could -make it tolerable even in the best of these, it was to be expected -(what experience hath now fully shewn), that it would at length, and -in ordinary hands, degenerate into the most unmeaning, frivolous, and -disgustful jargon, that ever discredited polite letters. - -This, Sir, was the state in which you received _modern Criticism_: a -state, which could only shew you, that, of the two models, antiquity -had furnished to our use, we had learned, by an awkward imitation of -it, to abuse the _worst_. But it did not content your zeal for the -service of letters barely to remedy this _abuse_. It was not enough, -in your enlarged view of things, to restore either of these models to -its ancient splendour. They were both to be revived; or rather a new -original plan of criticism was to be struck out, which should unite the -virtues of each of them. The experiment was made on the TWO greatest -of our own poets; and, by reflecting all the lights of the imagination -on the severest reason, every thing was effected, which the warmest -admirer of ancient art could promise to himself from such an union. -But you went farther. By joining to these powers a perfect insight -into human nature, and so ennobling the exercise of _literary_, by -the addition of the justest moral, censure, you have now, at length, -advanced CRITICISM to its full glory. - -Not but, considering the inveterate foible of mankind, which the poet -so justly satirizes in the following work, I mean that, which disposes -them to malign and depreciate all the efforts of wit and virtue, - - —nisi quae terris semota suisque - Temporibus defuncta videt— - -Considering, I say, this temper of mankind, you may sooner, perhaps, -expect the censures of the dull and envious of all denominations, than -the candid applause of the public, even for this service. - -I apprehend this consequence the rather, because criticism, though it -be _the last fruit of literary experience_, is more exposed to the -cavils of ignorance and vanity, than, perhaps, any other species of -learned application: all men being forward to judge, and few men giving -themselves leave to doubt of their being able to judge, of the merits -of well-known and popular writers. - -Nor is this all: When writers of a certain rank condescend to this work -of criticism, the innovation excites a very natural ferment in the _men -of the profession_. - -Their JEALOUSY is alarmed, as if there was a design to strip them of -the only honour they can reasonably pretend to, that of sitting in -judgment on the _inventions_ of their betters. But to JUDGE, he well -as to INVENT, is thought a violent encroachment in the republic of -Letters; not unlike the ambition of the Roman emperors, who would -be consuls, and censors too, that is, would have the privilege of -excluding from the senate, as well as of presiding in it. - -But if jealousy were out of the case, their MALIGNITY would be much -inflamed by this intrusion. For who can bear to see his own weak -endeavours in any art, disgraced by a consummate model? - -Besides, to say the truth, the conceptions of such writers, as I before -spoke of, lie so remote from vulgar apprehension, that, without either -_jealousy_ or _malignity_, DULLNESS itself will be sure to create them -many peevish detractors. For an ordinary critic can scarce help finding -fault with what he does not understand, or being angry where he has no -ideas. - -On all these accounts it may possibly happen, as I said, that your -critical labours will draw upon you much popular resentment and -invective. - -But if such should be the _present_ effect of your endeavours to -cultivate and complete this elegant part of literature, you, who know -the temper of the learned world, and, by your eminent merits, have -so oft provoked its injustice, will not be disturbed or surprized at -it: much less should it discourage those who are disposed to do you -more right, from celebrating, and, as they find themselves able, from -copying your example; - -For USE will father what’s begot by SENSE, as well in this, as in other -instances. - -You see, Sir, what there is of encomium in the turn of this Letter, -was intended not so much for your sake, as my own. Had my purpose been -any other, I must have chosen very ill among the various parts of your -character to take _this_ for the subject of an address to you. For, -after all I have said and think of your critical abilities, it might -seem almost as strange in a panegyrist on Mr. Warburton to tell of his -admirable criticisms on POPE and SHAKESPEAR, as it would be in him, -who should design an encomium on Socrates, to insist on his excellent -sculpture of MERCURY and the GRACES. Yet there is a time, when it may -be allowed to lay a stress on the amusements of such men. It is, when -an adventurer in either _art_ would do an honour to his profession. - - I am, with the truest esteem, - - Reverend Sir, - - Your most obedient - - and most humble servant, - - R. HURD. - - CAMBRIDGE, - _March 29, 1753_. - - - - -Q. HORATII FLACCI - -EPISTOLA AD AUGUSTUM. - - - Cum tot sustineas et tanta negotia solus, - Res Italas armis tuteris, moribus ornes, - Legibus emendes; in publica commoda peccem, - Si longo sermone morer tua tempora, Caesar. - Romulus, et Liber pater, et cum Castore Pollux, 5 - Post ingentia fata, Deorum in templa recepti, - Dum terras hominumque colunt genus, aspera bella - Conponunt, agros adsignant, oppida condunt; - Ploravere suis non respondere favorem - Speratum meritis. diram qui contudit Hydram, 10 - Notaque fatali portenta labore subegit, - Comperit invidiam supremo fine domari. - Urit enim fulgore suo, qui praegravat artis - Infra se positas: extinctus amabitur idem. - Praesenti tibi maturos largimur honores, 15 - Jurandasque tuum per numen ponimus aras, - Nil oriturum alias, nil ortum tale fatentes. - Sed tuus hoc populus sapiens et justus in uno, - Te nostris ducibus, te Graiis anteferendo, - Cetera nequaquam simili ratione modoque 20 - Aestimat; et, nisi quae terris semota suisque - Temporibus defuncta videt, fastidit et odit: - Sic fautor veterum, ut Tabulas peccare vetantis, - Quas bis quinque viri sanxerunt, Foedera regum - Vel Gabiis vel cum rigidis aequata Sabinis, 25 - Pontificum libros, annosa volumina Vatum, - Dictitet Albano Musas in monte locutas. - Si, quia Graiorum sunt antiquissima quaeque - Scripta vel optima, Romani pensantur eadem - Scriptores trutina; non est quod multa loquamur: 30 - Nil intra est olea, nil extra est in nuce duri: - Venimus ad summum fortunae: pingimus, atque - Psallimus, et luctamur Achivis doctius unctis. - Si meliora dies, ut vina, poemata reddit; - Scire velim, chartis pretium quotus arroget annus, 35 - Scriptor ab hinc annos centum qui decidit, inter - Perfectos veteresque referri debet, an inter - Vilis atque novos? excludat jurgia finis. - Est vetus atque probus centum qui perficit annos. - Quid? qui deperiit minor uno mense vel anno, 40 - Inter quos referendus erit? veteresne poetas, - An quos et praesens et postera respuat aetas? - Iste quidem veteres inter ponetur honeste, - Qui vel mense brevi, vel toto est junior anno. - Utor permisso, caudaeque pilos ut equinae 45 - Paullatim vello; et demo unum, demo et item unum; - Dum cadat elusus ratione ruentis acervi, - Qui redit in fastos, et virtutem aestimat annis, - Miraturque nihil, nisi quod Libitina sacravit. - Ennius et sapiens, et fortis, et alter Homerus, 50 - Ut critici dicunt, leviter curare videtur - Quo promissa cadant, et somnia Pythagorea. - Naevius in manibus non est, et mentibus haeret - Pene recens? adeo sanctum est vetus omne poema. - Ambigitur quotiens, uter utro sit prior; aufert 55 - Pacuvius docti famam senis, Accius alti: - Dicitur Afranî toga convenisse Menandro: - Plautus ad exemplar Siculi properare Epicharmi; - Vincere Caecilius gravitate, Terentius arte. - Hos ediscit, et hos arto stipata theatro 60 - Spectat Roma potens; habet hos numeratque poetas - Ad nostrum tempus, Livî Scriptoris ab aevo. - Interdum volgus rectum videt: est ubi peccat. - Si veteres ita miratur laudatque poetas, - Ut nihil anteferat, nihil illis comparet; errat: 65 - Si quaedam nimis antique, si pleraque dure - Dicere cedit eos, ignave multa fatetur; - Et sapit, et mecum facit, et Jove judicat aequo. - Non equidem insector, delendave carmina Laevî - Esse reor, memini quae plagosum mihi parvo 70 - Orbilium dictare; sed emendata videri - Pulchraque, et exactis minimum distantia, miror: - Inter quae verbum emicuit si forte decorum, - Si versus paulo concinnior unus et alter; - Injuste totum ducit venitque poema. 75 - Indignor quicquam reprehendi, non quia crasse - Compositum, inlepideve putetur, sed quia nuper: - Nec veniam antiquis, sed honorem et praemia posci. - Recte necne crocum floresque perambulet Attae - Fabula, si dubitem; clament periisse pudorem 80 - Cuncti pene patres: ea cum reprehendere coner, - Quae gravis Aesopus, quae doctus Roscius egit. - Vel quia nil rectum, nisi quod placuit sibi, ducunt; - Vel quia turpe putant parere minoribus, et, quae - Inberbi didicere, senes perdenda fateri. 85 - Jam Saliare Numae carmen qui laudat, et illud - Quod mecum ignorat, solus volt scire videri; - Ingeniis non ille favet plauditque sepultis, - Nostra sed inpugnat, nos nostraque lividus odit. - Quod si tam Graiis novitas invisa fuisset, 90 - Quam nobis; quid nunc esset vetus? aut quid haberet, - Quod legeret tereretque viritim publicus usus? - Ut primum positis nugari Graecia bellis - Coepit, et in vitium fortuna labier aequa; - Nunc athletarum studiis, nunc arsit equorum: 95 - Marmoris, aut eboris fabros, aut aeris amavit; - Suspendit picta vultum mentemque tabella; - Nunc tibicinibus, nunc est gavisa tragoedis: - Sub nutrice puella velut si luderet infans, - Quod cupide petiit, mature plena reliquit. 100 - Quid placet, aut odio est, quod non mutabile credas? - Hoc paces habuere bonae, ventique secundi. - Romae dulce diu fuit et sollenne, reclusa - Mane domo vigilare, clienti promere jura: - Scriptos nominibus rectis expendere nummos: 105 - Majores audire, minori dicere, per quae - Crescere res posset, minui damnosa libido. - Mutavit mentem populus levis, et calet uno - Scribendi studio: puerique patresque severi - Fronde comas vincti coenant, et carmina dictant. 110 - Ipse ego, qui nullos me adfirmo scribere versus, - Invenior Parthis mendacior; et prius orto - Sole vigil, calamum et chartas et scrinia posco. - Navem agere ignarus navis timet: abrotonum aegro - Non audet, nisi qui didicit, dare: quod medicorum est, 115 - Promittunt medici: tractant fabrilia fabri: - Scribimus indocti doctique poemata passim. - Hic error tamen et levis haec insania quantas - Virtutes habeat, sic collige: vatis avarus - Non temere est animus: versus amat, hoc studet unum; 120 - Detrimenta, fugas servorum, incendia ridet: - Non fraudem socio, puerove incogitat ullam - Pupillo: vivit siliquis, et pane secundo: - Militiae quanquam piger et malus, utilis urbi; - Si das hoc, parvis quoque rebus magna juvari; 125 - Os tenerum pueri balbumque poëta figurat: - Torquet ab obscoenis jam nunc sermonibus aurem; - Mox etiam pectus praeceptis format amicis, - Asperitatis et invidiae corrector et irae: - Recte facta refert; orientia tempora notis 130 - Instruit exemplis; inopem solatur et aegrum. - Castis cum pueris ignara puella mariti - Disceret unde preces, vatem ni Musa dedisset? - Poscit opem chorus, et praesentia numina sentit; - Coelestis implorat aquas, docta prece blandus; 135 - Avertit morbos, metuenda pericula pellit; - Inpetrat et pacem, et locupletem frugibus annum: - Carmine Dî superi placantur, carmine Manes. - Agricolae prisci, fortes, parvoque beati, - Condita post frumenta, levantes tempore festo 140 - Corpus et ipsum animum spe finis dura ferentem, - Cum sociis operum pueris et conjuge fida, - Tellurem porco, Silvanum lacte piabant, - Floribus et vino Genium memorem brevis aevi. - Fescennina per hunc invecta licentia morem 145 - Versibus alternis opprobria rustica fudit; - Libertasque recurrentis accepta per annos - Lusit amabiliter: donec jam saevus apertam - In rabiem coepit verti jocus, et per honestas - Ire domos impune minax. doluere cruento 150 - Dente lacessiti: fuit intactis quoque cura - Conditione super communi: quin etiam lex - Poenaque lata, malo quae nollet carmine quemquam - Describi. vertere modum, formidine fustis - Ad bene dicendum delectandumque redacti. 155 - Graecia capta ferum victorem cepit, et artis - Intulit agresti Latio. sic horridus ille - Defluxit numerus Saturnius, et grave virus - Munditiae pepulere: sed in longum tamen aevum - Manserunt, hodieque manent, vestigia ruris. 160 - Serus enim Graecis admovit acumina chartis; - Et post Punica bella quietus quaerere coepit, - Quid Sophocles et Thespis et Aeschylos utile ferrent: - Tentavit quoque rem, si digne vertere posset: - Et placuit sibi, natura sublimis et acer. 165 - Nam spirat tragicum satis, et feliciter audet; - Sed turpem putat inscitus metuitque lituram. - Creditur, ex medio quia res arcessit, habere - Sudoris minimum; sed habet Comoedia tanto - Plus oneris, quanto veniae minus. aspice, Plautus 170 - Quo pacto partis tutetur amantis ephebi; - Ut patris attenti, lenonis ut insidiosi: - Quantus sit Dossennus edacibus in parasitis: - Quam non adstricto percurrat pulpita socco. - Gestit enim nummum in loculos demittere; post hoc 175 - Securus, cadat an recto stet fabula talo. - Quem tulit ad scenam ventoso gloria curru, - Exanimat lentus spectator, sedulus inflat. - Sic leve, sic parvum est, animum quod laudis avarum - Subruit ac reficit. valeat res ludicra, si me 180 - Palma negata macrum, donata reducit opimum. - Saepe, etiam audacem, fugat hoc terretque poetam; - Quod numero plures, virtute et honore minores, - Indocti, stolidique, et depugnare parati - Si discordet eques, media inter carmina poscunt 185 - Aut ursum aut pugiles: his nam plebecula gaudet. - Verum equiti quoque jam migravit ab aure voluptas - Omnis, ad ingratos oculos, et gaudia vana. - Quatuor aut pluris aulaea premuntur in horas; - Dum fugiunt equitum turmae, peditumque catervae: 190 - Mox trahitur manibus regum fortuna retortis: - Esseda festinant, pilenta, petorrita, naves: - Captivum portatur ebur, captiva Corinthus. - Si foret in terris, rideret Democritus; seu - Diversum confusa genus panthera camelo, 195 - Sive elephas albus volgi converterit ora: - Spectaret populum ludis attentius ipsis, - Ut sibi praebentem mimo spectacula plura: - Scriptores autem narrare putaret asello - Fabellam surdo. nam quae pervincere voces 200 - Evaluere sonum, referunt quem nostra theatra? - Garganum mugire putes nemus, aut mare Tuscum. - Tanto cum strepitu ludi spectantur, et artes, - Divitiaeque peregrinae: quibus oblitus actor - Cum stetit in scena, concurrit dextera laevae: 205 - Dixit adhuc aliquid? nil sane. quid placet ergo? - Lana Tarentino violas imitata veneno. - Ac ne forte putes me, quae facere ipse recusem, - Cum recte tractent alii, laudare maligne: - Ille per extentum funem mihi posse videtur 210 - Ire poeta; meum qui pectus inaniter angit, - Inritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus inplet, - Ut magus; et modo me Thebis, modo ponit Athenis. - Verum age, et his, qui se lectori credere malunt, - Quam spectatoris fastidia ferre superbi, 215 - Curam impende brevem: si munus Apolline dignum - Vis complere libris; et vatibus addere calcar, - Ut studio majore petant Helicona virentem. - Multa quidem nobis facimus mala saepe poëtae, - (Ut vineta egomet caedam mea) cum tibi librum 220 - Sollicito damus, aut fesso: cum laedimur, unum - Si quis amicorum est ausus reprendere versum: - Cum loca jam recitata revolvimus inrevocati: - Cum lamentamur non adparere labores - Nostros, et tenui deducta poemata filo: 225 - Cum speramus eo rem venturam, ut, simul atque - Carmina rescieris nos fingere, commodus ultro - Arcessas, et egere vetes, et scribere cogas. - Sed tamen est operae pretium cognoscere, qualis - Aedituos habeat belli spectata domique 230 - Virtus, indigno non committenda poetae. - Gratus Alexandro regi Magno fuit ille - Choerilos, incultis qui versibus et male natis - Rettulit acceptos, regale nomisma, Philippos. - Sed veluti tractata notam labemque remittunt 235 - Atramenta, fere scriptores carmine foedo - Splendida facta linunt. idem rex ille, poëma - Qui tam ridiculum tam care prodigus emit, - Edicto vetuit; ne quis se, praeter Apellen - Pingeret, aut alius Lysippo cuderet aera 240 - Fortis Alexandri voltum simulantia. quod si - Judicium subtile videndis artibus illud - Ad libros et ad haec Musarum dona vocares; - Boeotum in crasso jurares aëre natum. - At neque dedecorant tua de se judicia, atque 245 - Munera, quae multa dantis cum laude tulerunt, - Dilecti tibi Virgilius Variusque poetae: - Nec magis expressi voltus per aënea signa, - Quam per vatis opus mores animique virorum - Clarorum adparent. nec sermones ego mallem 250 - Repentis per humum, quam res componere gestas, - Terrarumque situs, et flumina dicere, et arcis - Montibus impositas, et barbara regna, tuisque - Auspiciis totum confecta duella per orbem, - Claustraque custodem pacis cohibentia Janum, 255 - Et formidatam Parthis, te principe, Romam: - Si quantum cuperem, possem quoque. sed neque parvum - Carmen majestas recipit tua; nec meus audet - Rem tentare pudor, quam vires ferre recusent. - Sedulitas autem stulte, quem diligit, urguet; 260 - Praecipue cum se numeris commendat et arte. - Discit enim citius, meminitque libentius illud - Quod quis deridet, quam quod probat et veneratur. - Nil moror officium, quod me gravat: ac neque ficto - In pejus voltu proponi cereus usquam, 265 - Nec prave factis decorari versibus opto: - Ne rubeam pingui donatus munere, et una - Cum scriptore meo capsa porrectus operta, - Deferar in vicum vendentem tus et odores, - Et piper, et quicquid chartis amicitur ineptis. 270 - - -COMMENTARY. - -EPISTOLA AD AUGUSTUM.] In conducting this work, which is _an apology -for the poets of his own time_, the method of the writer is no other, -than that which plain sense, and the subject itself, required of -him. For, as the main dislike to the Augustan poets had arisen from -an _excessive reverence_ paid to their elder brethren, the _first_ -part of the epistle [from v. 1 to 118] is very naturally laid out in -the ridicule and confutation of so absurd a prejudice. And having, -by this preparation, obtained a candid hearing for his defence, he -then proceeds [in what follows, to the _end_] to vindicate their real -_merits_; setting in view the excellencies of the _Latin poetry_, as -cultivated by the great modern masters; and throwing the blame of -their ill success, and of the contempt in which they had lain, not so -much on themselves, or their _profession_ (the dignity of _which_, in -particular, he insists highly upon, and asserts with spirit) as on the -vicious taste of the age, and certain unfavouring circumstances, which -had accidentally concurred to dishonour _both_. - -This idea of the _general_ plan being comprehended, the reader will -find it no difficulty to perceive the order and arrangement of -_particular_ parts, which the natural transition of the poet’s thought -insensibly drew along with it. - -5-118. ROMULUS, ET LIBER PATER, &c.] The subject commences from v. 5, -where, by a contrivance of great beauty, a pertinent _illustration_ -of the poet’s argument becomes an offering of the happiest _address_ -to the emperor. Its _double_ purpose may be seen thus. His primary -intention was to take off the force of prejudice against _modern_ -poets, arising from the superior veneration of the _ancients_. To -this end the first thing wanting was to demonstrate by some striking -instance, that it was, indeed, nothing but _prejudice_; which he -does effectually in taking that instance from the _heroic_, that is, -the most revered, ages. For if such, whose acknowledged virtues and -eminent services had raised them to the rank of _heroes_, that is, in -the pagan conception of things, to the honours of _divinity_, could -not secure their fame, in their own times, against the malevolence of -slander, what wonder that the race of _wits_, whose obscurer merit is -less likely to dazzle the public eye, and yet, by a peculiar fatality, -is more apt to awaken its jealousy, should find themselves oppressed -by its rudest censure? In the _former_ case the honours, which equal -posterity paid to excelling worth, declare all _such_ censure to have -been the calumny of malice only. What reason then to conclude, it had -any other original in the _latter_? This is the poet’s _argument_. - -But now, of these worthies themselves, whom the justice of grateful -posterity had snatched out of the hands of detraction, there were some, -it seems, whose illustrious services the virtue or vain-glory of the -emperor most affected to emulate; and these, therefore, the poet, by an -ingenious flattery, selects for examples to his general _observation_, - - _Romulus, et Liber pater, et cum Castore Pollux - Post ingentia fata_, &c. - -Further, as the good fortune of Augustus, though adorned with the -_same_ enviable qualities, had exempted _him_ from the injuries which -had constantly befallen _those admired characters_, this peculiar -circumstance in the history of his prince affords him the happiest -occasion, flattery could desire, of paying distinguished honours to his -glory. - - _Praesenti tibi maturos largimur honores._ - -And this constitutes the fine _address and compliment of his -Application_. - -But this justice, which Augustus had exacted, as it were, by the very -authority of his virtue, from his applauding people, was but ill -discharged in other instances. - - _Sed tuus hoc populus sapiens et justus in uno, - Te nostris ducibus, te Graiis anteferendo, - Cetera nequaquam simili ratione modoque - Aestimat_, &c. - -And thus the very _exception_ to the general rule, which forms the -encomium, leads him with advantage into his _argument_; which was -to observe and expose “the malignant influence of prepossession in -obstructing the proper glories of living merit.” So that, as good sense -demands in every reasonable panegyric, the praise results from the -nature and foundation of the subject-matter, and is not violently and -reluctantly dragged into it. - -His general charge against his countrymen “of their bigotted attachment -to those, dignified by the name of _ancients_, in prejudice to the just -deserts of the moderns,” being thus delivered; and the folly of such -conduct, with some agreeable exaggeration, exposed; he sets himself -with a happy mixture of irony and argument, as well becomes the genius -and character of the _epistle_, to confute the pretences, and overturn -the very _foundations_, on which it rested. - -One main support of their folly was taken from an allowed fact, viz. -“That the oldest _Greek_ writers were incontestably superior to the -modern ones.” From whence they inferred, that it was but according to -nature and the course of experience, to give the like preference to the -oldest _Roman_ masters. - -His confutation of this sophism consists of two parts. _First_, [from -v. 28 to 32] he insists on the _evident_ absurdity of the opinion he -is confuting. There was no reasoning with persons, capable of such -_extravagant positions_. But, _secondly_, the pretended fact itself, -with regard to the Greek learning, was _grossly misunderstood, or -perversely applied_. For [from v. 32 to 34] it was not true, nor -could it be admitted, that the very _oldest_ of the _Greek_ writers -were the best, but those only, which were old, in comparison of the -mere modern Greeks. The so much applauded models of Grecian antiquity -were themselves _modern_, in respect of the still _older_ and ruder -essays of their first writers. It was long discipline and cultivation, -the same which had given the Greek _artists_ in the Augustan reign a -superiority over the Roman, that by degrees established the good taste, -and fixed the authority of the Greek _poets_; from which point it was -natural and even necessary for succeeding, _i. e._ the modern Greeks -to decline. But no consequence lay from hence to the advantage of the -Latin poets, in question; who were wholly unfurnished with any previous -study of the arts of verse; and whose works could only be compared with -the very _oldest_, that is, the rude forgotten essays of the Greek -poetry. So that the fine sense, so closely shut up in this concise -couplet, comes out thus: “The modern Greek masters of the _fine arts_ -are confessedly superior to the modern Roman. The reason is, they have -practised them longer, and with more diligence. Just so, the modern -Roman writers must needs have the advantage of their _old_ ones: who -had no knowledge of writing, as an _art_, or, if they had, took but -small care to put it in practice.” - -Further, this plea of antiquity is as uncertain in its _application_, -as it was destitute of all truth and reason in its original -_foundation_. For if age only must bear away the palm, what way is -there of determining, which writers are _modern_, and which _ancient_? -The impossibility of fixing this to the satisfaction of an objector, -which is pursued [to v. 50] with much agreeable raillery, makes it -evident, that the circumstance of antiquity is absolutely nothing; -and that in _estimating the merit_ of writers, the real, intrinsic -excellence of their writings _themselves_ is alone to be regarded. - -Thus far the poet’s intent was to combat the _general_ prejudice of the -critic, - - _Qui redit in fastos et virtutem aestimat annis._ - -Taking the fact for granted “of his strong prepossession for antiquity, -_as such_” he would discredit, both by raillery and argument, so -absurd a conduct. What he gains, by this disposition, is to come to -the _particulars_ of his charge with more advantage. For the popular -contempt of modern composition, sheltering itself under a shew of -learned admiration of the _ancients_, whose age and reputation had -made them truly venerable, and whose genuine merits, in the main, -could not be disputed, a direct attack upon their fame, at setting -out, without any softening, had disgusted the most _moderate_; whereas -this prefatory appeal to common sense, under the cover of general -criticism, would even dispose bigotry itself to afford the poet a -candid hearing. His accusation then of the public taste comes in, here, -very pertinently; and is delivered, with address [from v. 50 to 63] in -a particular detail of the judgements passed upon the most celebrated -of the old Roman poets, by the generality of the modern critics; where, -to win upon their prejudices still further by his generosity and good -faith, he scruples not to recount such of their determinations on the -merit of ancient writers, as were reasonable and well founded, as -well as others, that he deemed less just, and as such intended more -immediately to expose. - -We see then with what art the poet conducts himself in this attack on -the _ancients_, and how it served his purpose, by turns, to soften and -aggravate the _charge_. _First_, “he wanted to lower the reputation -of the old poets.” This was not to be done by general invective or an -affected dissimulation of their just praise. He admits then [from v. 63 -to 66] their reasonable pretensions to _admiration_. ’Tis the _degree_ -of it alone, to which he objects. - - _Si veteres_ ITA _miratur laudatque_, &c. - -_Secondly_, “he wanted to draw off their applauses from “the ancient -to the modern poets.” This required the _advantages_ of those -moderns to be distinctly shewn, or, which comes to the same, the -_comparative deficiencies_ of the ancients to be pointed out. These -were not to be dissembled, and are, as he openly insists [to v. 69] -_obsolete language_, _rude and barbarous construction_, and _slovenly -composition_, - - _Si quaedam nimis_ ANTIQUE, _si pleraque_ DURE, - _Dicere cedit eos_, IGNAVE _multa_. - -But what then? an objector replies, these were venial faults, surely; -the _deficiencies_ of the times, and not of the men; who, with such -incorrectnesses as are here noted, might still possess the greatest -_talents_, and produce the noblest _designs_. This [from v. 69 to 79] -is readily admitted. But, in the mean time, one thing was clear, that -they were not _finished models_—_exactis minimum distantia_. Which was -the main point in dispute. For the bigot’s absurdity lay in this, - - _Non veniam antiquis, sed honorem et praemia posci._ - -Nay, his folly is shewn to have gone still greater lengths. These -boasted models of antiquity, with all their imperfections, had -occasionally [v. 73, 74] though the instances were indeed rare and -thinly scattered, _striking beauties_. These, under the recommendation -of _age_, which, of course, commands our reverence, might well -impose on the judgements of the _generality_, and standing forth -with advantage, as from a shaded and dark _ground_, would naturally -catch the eye and admiration of the more _learned_. Thus much the -poet candidly insinuates in excuse of the bigot’s _ill judgment_. -But, unluckily, he had cut himself off from the benefit of this plea, -by avowedly grounding his _admiration_, not merely on the intrinsic -excellence, so far as it went, of the ancient poetry itself; but on the -advantage of any extraneous circumstance, which but casually stuck to -it. The accident of a play’s having passed though the mouth, and been -graced by the action, of a just speaker, was sufficient [from v. 79 to -83] (so inexcusable were his prejudices) to attract his wonder, and -justify his esteem. In so much that it became an insolence, generally -cried out upon, for any one to censure such pieces of the theatre, - - _Quae gravis Æsopus, quae doctus Roscius egit._ - -This being the case, it was no longer a doubt, whether the affected -admiration of antiquity proceeded from a deluded judgment only, or a -much worse cause. It could plainly be resolved into no other, than -the willful agency of the malignant affections; which, wherever they -prevail, corrupt the simple and ingenuous sense of the mind, either -1. [v. 83] _in engendring high conceits of self_, and referring all -degrees of excellence to the supposed infallible standard of every -man’s own judgment; or 2. [to v. 86] _in creating a false shame_, and -reluctancy in us to be directed by the judgments of others, though -_seen_ to be more equitable, whenever they are found in opposition to -our own rooted and preconceived opinions. The bigotry of _old Men_ is, -especially, for this reason, invincible. They hold themselves upbraided -by the sharper sight of their juniors; and regard the adoption of new -sentiments, at their years, as so much absolute loss on the side of the -dead stock of their old literary possessions. These considerations are -generally of such prevalency in great veteran critics, that [from v. -86 to 90] whenever, as in the case before us, they pretend an uncommon -zeal for antiquity, and their sagacity piques itself on detecting the -superior value of obscure rhapsodists whom no body else reads, or is -able to understand, we may be sure the secret view of such, is, not the -generous defence and patronage of _ancient_ wit, but a low malevolent -pleasure in decrying the just pretensions of the _modern_. - - _Ingeniis non ille favet plauditque sepultis, - Nostra sed impugnat, nos nostraque lividus odit._ - -The poet had, now, made appear the unreasonable attachment of his -countrymen to the fame of their old writers. He had thoroughly -unravelled the sophistical pretences, on which it affected to justify -itself; and had even dared to unveil the _secret iniquitous principle_, -from which it arose. It was now time to look forward to the _effects_ -of it; which were, in truth, very baleful; its poisonous influences -being of force to corrupt and wither, as it were, in the bud, every -rising species of excellence, and fatally to check the very hopes and -tendencies of true genius. Nothing can be truer, than this remark; -which he further enforces, and brings home to his adversaries, by -asking a pertinent question, to which it concerned them to make a -serious reply. They had magnified v. 28 the perfection of the Greek -models. But what [to v. 93] if the Greeks had conceived the same -aversion to _novelties_, as the Romans? How then could _those_ models -have ever been furnished to the public use? The question, we see, -insinuates what was before affirmed to be the truth of the case; that -the unrivalled excellence of the Greek poets proceeded only from -long and vigorous exercise, and a painful uninterrupted application -to the arts of verse. The liberal spirit of that people led them to -countenance every new attempt towards superior literary excellence; -and so, by the public favour, their writings, from rude essays, became -at length the standard and admiration of succeeding wits. The Romans -had treated their adventurers quite otherwise, and the effect was -answerable. This is the purport of what to a common eye may look like -a _digression_ [from v. 93 to 108], in which is delineated the very -different genius and practice of the two nations. For the _Greeks_ [to -v. 102] had applied themselves, in the intervals of their leisure from -the toils of war, to the cultivation of every species of elegance, -whether in _arts_, or _letters_; and loved to cherish the public -emulation, by affording a free indulgence to the various and volatile -disposition of the times. The activity of these restless spirits, was -incessantly attempting some new and untryed _form_ of composition; and, -when _that_ was brought to a due degree of perfection, it turned, _in -good time_, to the cultivation of some _other_. - - _Quod cupide petiit, mature plena reliquit._ - -So that the very caprice of _humour_ [v. 101] assisted, in this -libertine country, to advance and help forward the public taste. Such -was the effect of _peace and opportunity_ with them. - - _Hoc paces habuere bonae ventique secundi._ - -Whereas the _Romans_ [to v. 108] by a more composed temperament and -saturnine complexion had devoted their pains to the pursuit of domestic -utilities, and a more dexterous management of the _arts of gain_. The -consequence of which was, that when [to v. 117] by the decay of the -old frugal spirit, the necessary effect of overflowing plenty and -ease, they began, at length, to seek out for the elegancies of life; -and _a fit of versifying_, the first of all liberal amusements, that -usually seizes an idle people, had come upon them; their ignorance of -rules, and want of exercise in the art of writing, rendered them wholly -unfit to succeed in it. So that their awkward attempts in poetry were -now as disgraceful to their _taste_, as their total disregard of it, -before, had been to their _civility_. The root of this mischief was the -idolatrous regard paid to their ancient poets: which unluckily, when -the public emulation was set a going, not only checked its progress, -but gave it a wrong bias; and, instead of helping true genius to -outstrip the lame and tardy endeavours of ancient wit, drew it aside -into a vicious and unprofitable mimicry of its very imperfections. -Whence it had come to pass, that, whereas in other _arts_, the previous -knowledge of rules is required to the practice of them, in this of -_versifying_, no such qualification was deemed necessary. - - _Scribimus indocti doctique poemata passim._ - -This mischance was _doubly_ fatal to the Latin poetry. For the ill -success of these blind adventurers had increased the original mischief, -by confirming, as it needs must, the superstitious reverence of the -old writers; and insensibly brought, as well the art itself, as the -modern professors of it, into disrepute with the discerning public. -The vindication of _both_, then, at this critical juncture, was become -highly seasonable; and to this, which was the poet’s main purpose, he -addresses himself through the remainder of the epistle. - -118 to the end. HIC ERROR TAMEN, &c.] Having sufficiently obviated -the popular and reigning prejudices against the modern poets, his -office of _advocate_ for their fame, which he had undertaken, and was -now to discharge, in form, required him to set their real merits and -pretensions in a just light. He enters therefore immediately on this -task. And, in drawing the character of the _true poet_, endeavours to -impress the Emperor with as advantageous an idea as possible, of the -worth and dignity of his calling. And this, not in the fierce insulting -tone of a zealot for the _honour of his order_, which to the _great_ -is always disgusting, and where the occasion is, confessedly, not of -the last importance, plainly absurd; but with that unpretending air -of insinuation, which good sense, improved by a thorough knowledge -of the world, teaches: with that seeming indifference which disarms -prejudice: in a word, with that gracious _smile in his aspect_, which -his strong admirer and faint copyer, Persius, so justly noted in him, -and which convinces almost without the help of argument; or to say it -more truly, _persuades_ where it doth not properly _convince_. In this -disposition he sets out on his defence; and yet omits no _particular_, -which could any way serve to the real recommendation of _poets_, or -which indeed, the gravest or warmest of their friends have ever pleaded -in their behalf. This defence consists [from v. 118 to 139] in bringing -into view their many _civil_, _moral_, and _religious_ virtues. For -the muse, as the poet contends (and nothing could be more likely to -conciliate the esteem of the politic emperor) administers, in this -threefold capacity, to the service of the state. - -But _Religion_, which was its _noblest end_, was, besides, the _first -object_ of poetry. The dramatic muse, in particular, had her birth, -and derived her very character, from it. This circumstance then leads -him with advantage, to give an historical deduction of the rise and -progress of the Latin poesy, from its first rude workings in the days -of barbarous superstition, through every successive period of its -improvement, down to his own times. Such a view of its descent and -gradual reformation was directly to the poet’s purpose. For having -magnified the virtues of his order, as of such importance to society, -the question naturally occurred, by what unhappy means it had fallen -out, that it was, nevertheless, in such low estimation with the public. -The answer is, that the state of the Latin poetry, as yet, was very -rude and imperfect: and so the public disregard was occasioned, only, -by its not having attained to that degree of perfection, of which its -_nature_ was capable. Many reasons had concurred to keep the Latin -poetry in this state, which he proceeds to enumerate. The _first and -principal_ was [from v. 139 to 164] the little attention paid _to -critical learning, and the cultivation of a correct and just spirit -of composition_. Which, again, had arisen from the coarse illiberal -disposition of the Latin muse, who had been nurtured and brought up -under the roof of rural superstition; and this, by an impure mixture of -licentious jollity, had so corrupted her very nature, that it was only -by slow degrees, and not till the conquest of Greece had imported arts -and learning into Italy, that she began to chastise her manners, and -assume a juster and more becoming deportment. And still she was but in -the condition of a rustic _beauty_, when, practising her aukward airs, -and making her first ungracious essays towards a _manner_. - - _in longum tamen aevum - Manserunt, hodieque manent_ vestigia ruris. - -Her late acquaintance with the Greek models had, indeed, improved her -air, and inspired an inclination to emulate their noblest graces. But -how successfully, we are given to understand from her unequal attempts -in the two sublimer species of their poetry, the TRAGIC, AND COMIC -DRAMAS. - -1. [from v. 160 to 168] The _study of the Greek tragedians_ had very -naturally, and to good purpose, in the infancy of their taste, disposed -the Latin writers to _translation_. Here they stuck long; for their -tragedy, even in the Augustan age, was little else; and yet they -succeeded but indifferently in it. The bold and animated genius of -Rome was, it is readily owned, well suited to this work. And for force -of colouring, and a truly tragic elevation, the Roman poets came not -behind their great originals. But unfortunately their judgment was -unformed, and they were too soon satisfied with their own productions. -Strength and fire was all they endeavoured after. And with this praise -they sate down perfectly contented. The discipline of correction, the -curious polishing of art, which had given such a lustre to the Greek -tragedians, they knew nothing of; or, to speak their case more truly, -they held disgraceful to the high spirit and energy of the Roman genius: - - TURPEM PUTAT IN SCRIPTIS METUITQUE LITURAM. - -2. It did not fare better with them [from v. 168 to 175] in their -attempts to rival _the Greek comedy_. They preposterously set out -with the notion of its being easier to execute this drama than the -tragic: whereas to hit its genuine character with exactness was, in -truth, a point of much more difficulty. As the _subject_ of comedy -was taken from common life, they supposed an ordinary degree of care -might suffice, to do it justice. No wonder then, they overlooked or -never came up to that nice adjustment of the _manners_, that truth and -decorum of _character_, wherein the glory of comic painting consists, -and which none but the quickest eye can discern, and the steadiest -hand execute; and, in the room, amused us with _high colouring_, -and _false drawing_; with _extravagant, aggravated portraitures_; -which, neglecting the modest proportion of real life, are the certain -arguments of an unpractised pencil, or vicious taste. - -What contributed to this prostitution of the comic muse, was [to v. -177] the seducement of that corruptress of all virtue, _the love of -money_; which had thoroughly infected the Roman wits, and was, in fact, -the sole object of their pains. Hence, provided they could but catch -the applauses of the people, to which the pleasantry of the comic scene -more especially aspires, and so secure a good round _price_ from the -magistrates, whose office it was to furnish this kind of entertainment, -they became indifferent to every nobler view and honester purpose. -In particular [to v. 182] they so little considered _fame and the -praise of good writing_, that they made it the ordinary topic of their -ridicule; representing it as the mere illusion of vanity, and the -pitiable infirmity of _lean-witted_ minds, to be catched by the lure of -so empty and unsubstantial a benefit. - -Though, were any one, in defiance of public ridicule, so _daring_ -(as there is no occasion in life, which calls for, or demonstrates -a greater firmness), as frankly to avow and submit himself to this -generous _motive_, the surest inspirer of every virtuous excellence, -yet one thing remained to check and weaken the vigour of his emulation. -This [from v. 182 to 187] was the folly and ill taste of the -undiscerning multitude; who, in all countries, have a great share in -determining the fate and character of scenical representations, but, -from the popular constitution of the government, were, at Rome, of the -first consequence. These, by their rude clamours, and the authority -of their numbers, were enough to dishearten the most intrepid genius; -when, after all his endeavours to reap the glory of an absolute work, -the _action_ was almost sure to be mangled and broken in upon by the -shews of _wild beasts and gladiators_; those _dear delights_, which the -Romans, it seems, prized much above the highest pleasures of the drama. - -Nay, the poet’s case was still more desperate. For it was not the -untutored rabble, as in other countries, that gave a countenance to -these illiberal sports: even _rank and quality_, at Rome, debased -itself in shewing the fiercest passion for these _shews_, and was -as ready, as abject commonalty itself, to prefer the uninstructing -pleasures of the _eye_ to those of the _ear_. - - EQUITI _quoque jam migravit ab aure voluptas - Omnis ad ingratos oculos et gaudia vana._ - -And, because this barbarity of taste had contributed more than any -thing else to deprave the poetry of the stage, and discourage its best -masters from studying its perfection, what follows [from v. 189 to 207] -is intended, in all the keenness of raillery, to satyrize this madness. -It afforded an ample field for the poet’s ridicule. For, besides the -riotous disorders of their theatre, the senseless admiration of _pomp -and spectacle_ in their plays had so inchanted his countrymen, that -the very decorations of the scene, the tricks and trappings of the -comedians, were surer to catch the applauses of the gaping multitude, -than any regard to the justness of the poet’s design, or the beauty of -his execution. - -Here the poet should naturally have concluded his _defence of the -dramatic writers_; having alledged every thing in their favour, that -could be urged, plausibly, from _the state of the Roman stage: the -genius of the people: and the several prevailing practices of ill -taste_, which had brought them into disrepute with the best judges. -But finding himself obliged, in the course of this vindication of the -modern _stage-poets_, to censure as sharply, as their very enemies, the -vices and defects of their _poetry_; and fearing lest this severity -on a sort of writing, to which himself had never pretended, might be -misinterpreted as the effect of envy only, and a malignant disposition -towards the art itself, under cover of pleading for its _professors_, -he therefore frankly avows [from v. 208 to 214] his preference of the -_dramatic_, to every other species of poetry; declaring the sovereignty -of its pathos over the _affections_, and the magic of its illusive -scenery on the _Imagination_, to be the highest argument of poetic -excellence, the last and noblest exercise of the human genius. - -One thing still remained. He had taken upon himself to apologize for -the Roman poets, in _general_; as may be seen from the large terms, in -which he proposes his subject. - - _Hic error tamen et levis haec insania quantas - Virtutes habeat, sic collige._ - -But, after a general encomium on the _office_ itself, he confines his -defence to the _writers for the stage_ only. In conclusion then, he was -constrained, by the very purpose of his address, to say a word or two -in behalf of the remainder of this neglected family; of those, who, as -the poet expresses it, had _rather trust to the equity of the closet, -than subject themselves to the caprice and insolence of the theatre_. - -Now, as before, in asserting the honour of the stage-poets he every -where supposes the emperor’s _disgust_ to have sprung from the wrong -conduct of the poets themselves, and then extenuates the blame of -such _conduct_, by considering, still further, the _causes_ which -gave rise to it; so he prudently observes the like method here. The -politeness of his address concedes to Augustus, the just _offence_ he -had taken to his brother poets; whose honour, however, he contrives -to save by softening the _occasions_ of it. This is the drift of what -follows [from v. 214 to 229] where he pleasantly recounts the several -foibles and indiscretions of the muse; but in a way, that could only -dispose the emperor to smile at, or at most, to pity her infirmities, -not provoke his serious censure and disesteem. They amount, on the -whole, but to certain idlenesses of _vanity_, the almost inseparable -attendant of _wit_, as well as _beauty_; and may be forgiven in _each_, -as implying a strong _desire_ of pleasing, or rather as _qualifying_ -both to please. One of the most exceptionable of these _vanities_ was a -fond persuasion, too readily taken up by men of parts and genius, that -_preferment is the constant pay of merit_; and that, from the moment -their talents become known to the public, distinction and advancement -are sure to follow. They believed, in short, they had only to convince -the world of their superior abilities, to deserve the favour and -countenance of their prince. But fond and presumptuous as these hopes -are (continues the poet [from v. 229 to 244] with all the insinuation -of a courtier, and yet with a becoming sense of the dignity of his -own character) it may deserve a serious consideration, what poets are -fit to be entrusted with the glory of princes; what _ministers_ are -worth retaining in the service of an illustrious VIRTUE, whose honours -demand to be solemnized with a religious reverence, and should not be -left to the profanation of vile, unhallowed hands. And, to support -the authority of this remonstrance, he alledges the example of a -great Monarch, who had dishonoured himself by a neglect of this care; -of ALEXANDER THE GREAT, who, when master of the world, as Augustus -now was, perceived, indeed, the importance of gaining a poet to his -service; but unluckily chose so ill, that his encomiums (as must ever -be the case with a vile panegyrist) but tarnished the native splendor -of those virtues, which his office required him to present, in their -fullest and fairest glory, to the admiration of the world. In his -appointment of _artists_, whose skill is, also, highly serviceable to -the fame of princes, he shewed a truer judgment. For he suffered none -but an APELLES and a LYSIPPUS to counterfeit the form and fashion of -his _person_. But his _taste_, which was thus exact and even _subtile_ -in what concerned the mechanic execution of the _fine arts_, took up -with a CHOERILUS, to transmit an image of his _mind_ to future ages; -so grosly undiscerning was he in works of poetry, and the liberal -_offerings of the muse_! - -And thus the poet makes a double use of the illjudgment of this -imperial critic. For nothing could better demonstrate the importance -of _poetry_ to the honour of _greatness_, than that this illustrious -conqueror, without any particular knowledge or discernment in the -_art_ itself, should think himself concerned to court its assistance. -And, then, what could be more likely to engage the emperor’s further -protection and love of _poetry_, than the insinuation (which is -made with infinite address) that, as he honoured it equally, so he -understood its merits much better? For [from v. 245 to 248, where, by -a beautiful concurrence, the flattery of his prince falls in with the -honester purpose of doing justice to the memory of his friends] it was -not the same unintelligent liberality, which had cherished Choerilus, -that poured the full stream of Caesar’s bounty on such persons, as -VARIUS and VIRGIL. And, as if the spirit of these inimitable poets -had, at once, seized him, he breaks away in a bolder run of verse -[from v. 248 to 250] _to sing the triumphs of an art_, which expressed -the _manners and the mind_ in fuller and more durable _relief_, than -painting or even sculpture had ever been able to give to the external -_figure_: And [from v. 250 to the end] _apologizes for himself_ in -adopting the humbler epistolary _species_, when a warmth of inclination -and the unrivaled glories of his prince were continually urging him on -to the nobler, _encomiastic_ poetry. His excuse, in brief, is taken -from the conscious inferiority of his genius, and a tenderness for -the fame of the emperor, which is never more disserved than by the -officious sedulity of bad poets to do it honour. And with this apology, -one while condescending to the unfeigned humility of a person, sensible -of the _kind and measure_ of his abilities, and then, again, sustaining -itself by a freedom and even familiarity, which real merit knows, on -certain occasions, to take without offence, the epistle concludes. - -If the general opinion may be trusted, this, which was one of the -_last_, is also among the _noblest_, of the great poet’s compositions. -Perhaps, the reader, who considers it in the plain and simple order, to -which the foregoing analysis hath reduced it, may satisfy himself, that -this praise hath not been undeservedly bestowed. - - - - -NOTES - -ON THE - -EPISTLE TO AUGUSTUS. - - -EPISTOLA AD AUGUSTUM.] The epistle to AUGUSTUS is _an apology for the -Roman poets_. The epistle to the PISOS, _a criticism on their poetry_. -_This_ to Augustus may be therefore considered as a sequel of _that_ to -the Pisos; and which could not well be omitted; for the author’s design -of forwarding the study and improvement of the _art of poetry_ required -him to bespeak the public favour to its _professors_. - -But as, _there_, in correcting the abuses of their poetry, he mixes, -occasionally, some encomiums on _poets_; so, _here_, in pleading the -cause of the poets, we find him interweaving instructions on _poetry_. -Which was but according to the writer’s _occasions_ in each work. For -the freedom of his censure on the _art of poetry_ was to be softened -by some expressions of his good-will towards the poets; and this -apology for their _fame_ had been too direct and unmanaged, but for -the qualifying appearance of its intending the further benefit of -the _art_. The coincidence, then, of the same general _method_, as well -as _design_, in the two epistles, made it not improper to give them -together, and on the same footing, to the public. Though both the -_subject_ and _method_ of this last are so clear as to make a continued -commentary upon it much less wanted. - - * * * * * - -4. SI LONGO SERMONE MORER TUA TEMPORA, CAESAR.] The poet is thought to -begin with apologizing for the _shortness of this epistle_. And yet -’tis one of the longest he ever wrote. How is this inconsistency to be -reconciled? “Horace parle pêutêtre ainsi pour ne pas rebuter Auguste, -et pour lui faire connôitre, qu’il auroit fait une lettre, beaucoup -plus longue, s’il avoit suivi son inclination.” This is the best -account of the matter we have, hitherto, been able to come at. But the -familiar civility of such a compliment, as M. Dacier supposes, though -it might be well enough to an _equal_, or, if dressed up in spruce -phrases, might make a figure in the _lettres familieres et galantes_ of -his own nation; yet is surely of a cast, entirely foreign to the Roman -gravity, more especially in an address to the emperor of the world. -Mr. Pope, perceiving the absurdity of the common interpretation, seems -to have read the lines _interrogatively_; which though it saves the -sense, and suits the purpose of the English poet very well, yet neither -agrees with the language nor serious air of the original. The case, I -believe, was this. The genius of epistolary writing demands, that the -subject-matter be not abruptly delivered, or hastily obtruded on the -person addressed; but, as the law of decorum prescribes (for the rule -holds in _writing_, as in _conversation_) be gradually and respectfully -introduced to him. This obtains more particularly in applications to -the _great_, and on important subjects. But, now, the poet, being to -address his prince on a point of no small delicacy, and on which he -foresaw he should have occasion to hold him pretty long, prudently -contrives to get, as soon as possible, into his subject; and, to that -end, hath the art to convert the very transgression of this rule into -the justest and most beautiful compliment. - -That cautious preparation, which is ordinarily requisite in our -approaches to _greatness_, had been, the poet observes, in the present -case, highly unseasonable, as the business and interests of the empire -must, in the mean time, have stood still and been suspended. By -_sermone_ then we are to understand, not the _body_ of the epistle, -but the proeme or _introduction_ only. The _body_, as of public -concern, might be allowed to engage, at full length, the emperor’s -attention. But the _introduction_, consisting of _ceremonial_ only, -the _common good_ required him to shorten as much as possible. It -was no time for using an insignificant preamble, or, in our English -phrase, of making _long speeches_. The reason, too, is founded, not -merely in the elevated rank of the emperor, but in the peculiar -diligence and sollicitude, with which, history tells us, he endeavoured -to promote, by various ways, the interests of his country. So that -the compliment is as _just_, as it is _polite_. It may be further -observed, that _sermo_ is used in Horace, to signify the ordinary style -of conversation [See Sat. i. 3, 65, and iv. 42.] and therefore not -improperly denotes the familiarity of the epistolary address, which, in -its easy expression, so nearly approaches to it. - - * * * * * - -13. URIT ENIM FULGORE SUO, QUI PRAEGRAVAT ARTES INFRA SE POSITAS: -EXTINCTUS AMABITUR IDEM.] The poet, we may suppose, spoke this from -experience. And so might _another_ of later date when he complained: - - Unhappy Wit, like most mistaken things, - Attones not for that envy which it brings. - _Essay on Crit._ v. 494. - -Unless it be thought, that, as this was said by him very early in life, -it might rather pass for a prediction of his future fortunes. Be this -as it will, the sufferings, which _unhappy wit_ is conceived to bring -on itself from the _envy_ it excites, are, I am apt to think, somewhat -aggravated; at least if one may judge from the effects it had on this -_Complainant_. That which would be likely to afflict him most, was -the _envy_ of his friends. But the generosity of these deserves to be -recorded. The _wits_ took no offence at his fame, till they found -it eclipse their _own_: And his _Philosopher and Guide_, ’tis well -known, stuck close to him, till another and brighter star had gotten -the ascendant. Or supposing there might be some malice in the case, -it is plain there was little mischief. And for this little the poet’s -creed provides an ample recompence. EXTINCTUS AMABITUR IDEM: not, we -may be sure, by _those_ he most improved, enlightened, and obliged; -but by late impartial posterity; and by ONE at least of his surviving -friends; who generously took upon him the patronage of his fame, and -who inherits his genius and his virtues. - - * * * * * - -14. EXTINCTUS AMABITUR IDEM.] _Envy_, says a discerning ancient, -_is the vice of those, who are too weak to contend, and too proud -to submit_: _vitium eorum, qui nec cedere volunt, nec possunt -contendere_[33]. Which, while it sufficiently exposes the folly -and malignity of this hateful passion, secures the honour of human -nature; as implying at the same time, that its worst corruptions are -not without a mixture of generosity in them. For this false pride -in _refusing to submit_, though absurd and mischievous enough, when -unsupported by all _ability to contend_, yet discovers such a sense of -superior excellence, as shews, how difficult it is for human nature -to divest itself of all virtue. Accordingly, when the too powerful -_splendor_ is withdrawn, our natural veneration of it takes place: -_Extinctus amabitur idem._ This is the true exposition of the poet’s -sentiment; which therefore appears just the reverse of what his French -interpreter would fix upon him. “La justice, que nous rendons aux -grands hommes après leur mort, ne vient pas de l’AMOUR, que nous avons -pour leur _vertu_, mais de la HAINE, dont notre cœur est rempli pour -ceux, qui ont pris leur PLACE.” An observation, which only becomes the -misanthropy of an old cynic virtue, or the selfishness of a modern -system of ethics. - - * * * * * - -15. PRAESENTI TIBI MATUROS, &c. to v. 18.] We are not to wonder at -this and the like extravagances of adulation in the Augustan poets. -They had ample authority for what they did of this sort. We know, that -altars were erected to the Emperor by the command of the Senate; and -that he was publicly invoked, as an established, tutelary divinity. But -the seeds of the corruption had been sown much earlier. For we find it -sprung up, or rather (as of all the ill weeds, which the teeming soil -of human depravity throws forth, none is more thriving and grows faster -than this of _flattery_) flourishing at its height, in the tyranny of -J. CAESAR. Balbus, in a letter to Cicero [Ep. ad Att. l. ix.] _Swears -by the health and safety of Caesar_: _ità, incolumi Caesare, moriar_. -And Dio tells us [L. xliv.] that it was, by the express injunction -of the Senate, decreed, even in Caesar’s life-time, that the Romans -should bind themselves by this oath. The Senate also, as we learn from -the same writer, [L. xliii.] upon receiving the news of his defeat -of Pompey’s sons, caused his statue to be set up, in the temple of -Romulus, with this inscription, DEO INVICTO[34]. - -’Tis true, these and still greater honours had been long paid to the -Roman governors in their provinces, by the _abject, slavish Asiatics_. -And this, no doubt, facilitated the admission of such idolatries into -the capital[35]. But that a people, from the highest notions of an -independent republican equality, could so soon be brought to this -prostrate adoration of their first _Lord_, is perfectly amazing! In -this, they shewed themselves ripe for servitude. Nothing could keep -them out of the hands of a master. And one can scarcely read such -accounts, as these, without condemning the vain efforts of dying -patriotism, which laboured so fruitlesly, may one not almost say, -so weakly? to protract the liberty of such a people, Who can, after -this, wonder at the incense, offered up by a few court-poets? The -adulation of Virgil, which has given so much offence, and of Horace, -who kept pace with him, was, we see, but the authorized language of the -times; presented indeed with address, but without the heightenings and -privileged licence of their profession. For, to their credit, it must -be owned, that, though in the office of _poets_, they were to comply -with the popular voice, and echo it back to the ears of sovereignty; -yet, as _men_, they had too much good sense, and too scrupulous a -regard to the dignity of their characters, to exaggerate and go beyond -it. - -It should, in all reason, surprize and disgust us still more, that -modern writers have not always shewn themselves so discrete. The grave -and learned LIPSIUS was not ashamed, even without the convenient -pretext of popular flattery, or poetic _coloring_, in so many words, -to make a God of his patron: who though neither King, nor Pope, was -yet the next best material for this manufacture, an Archbishop. For, -though the critic knew, that it was _not every wood, that will make a -Mercury_, yet no body would dispute the fitness of that, which grew -so near the altar. In plain words, I am speaking of an Archbishop of -MECHLIN, whom, after a deal of fulsome compliment (which was the vice -of the man) he exalts at last, with a pagan complaisance, into the -order of Deities. “Ad haec, says he, erga omnes humanitas et facilitas -me faciunt, ut omnes te non tanquàm hominem aliquem de nostro coetu, -sed tanquam DEUM QUENDAM DE COELO DELAPSUM INTUEANTUR ET ADMIRENTUR.” - - * * * * * - -16. JURANDASQUE TUUM PER NUMEN PONIMUS ARAS.] On this idea of the -APOTHEOSIS, which was the usual mode of flattery in the Augustan -age, but, as having the countenance of public authority, sometimes -inartificially enough employed, Virgil hath projected one of the -noblest allegories in ancient poetry, and at the same time hath given -to it all the force of _just_ compliment, the _occasion_ itself -allowed. _Each_ of these excellencies was to be expected from his -talents. For, as his genius led him to the _sublime_; to his exquisite -judgment would instruct him to palliate this bold fiction, and qualify, -as much as possible, the shocking adulation, implied in it. So singular -a beauty deserves to be shewn at large. - -The _third_ GEORGIC sets out with an apology for the low and simple -argument of that work, which, yet, the poet esteemed, for its novelty, -preferable to the sublimer, but trite, themes of the Greek writers. Not -but he intended, on some future occasion, to adorn a nobler subject. -This was the great plan of the Aeneïs, which he now _prefigures_ and -unfolds at large. For, taking advantage of the noblest privilege of -his _art_, he breaks away, in a fit of _prophetic_ enthusiasm, to -foretel his successes in this projected enterprize, and, under the -imagery of the ancient _triumph_, which comprehends, or suggests to -the imagination, whatever is most august in human affairs, to delineate -the future glories of this ambitious design. The whole conception, -as we shall see, is of the utmost grandeur and magnificence; though, -according to the usual management of the poet (which, as not being -apprehended by his critics, hath furnished occasion, even to the best -of them, to charge him with a want of the _sublime_) he hath contrived -to soften and _familiarize_ its appearance to the reader, by the artful -manner, in which it is introduced. It stands thus: - - _tentanda via est, qua me quoque possim - Tollere humo_, VICTORQUE _virûm volitare per ora_. - -This idea of _victory_, thus casually dropped, he makes the basis -of his imagery; which, by means of this gradual preparation, offers -itself easily to the apprehension, though it thereby loses, as the poet -designed it should, much of that broad _glare_, in which writers of -less judgment love to shew their ideas, as tending to set the common -reader to a gaze. The allegory then proceeds: - - _Primus ego patriam mecum (modo vita supersit) - Aonio rediens deducam vertice Musas_. - -The projected conquest was no less than that of all the _Grecian Muses_ -at once; whom, to carry on the decorum of the allegory, he threatens, -1. to force from their high and advantageous situation on the summit of -the _Aonian mount_; and, 2. bring _captive_ with him into Italy: the -_former_ circumstance intimating to us the difficulty and danger of -the enterprize; and the _latter_, his complete execution of it. - -The _palmy_, triumphal entry, which was usual to victors on their -return from foreign successes, follows: - - _Primus Idumaeas referam tibi, Mantua, palmas_. - -But ancient conquerors did not hold it sufficient to reap this -transient fruit of their labours. They were ambitious to consecrate -their glory to immortality, by a _temple_, or other public monument, -which was to be built out of the spoils of the conquered cities or -countries. This the reader sees is suitable to the idea of the great -work proposed; which was, out of the old remains of Grecian art, to -compose a _new_ one, that should comprize the virtues of them all: -as, in fact, the Aeneïd is known to unite in itself whatever is most -excellent, not in Homer only, but, universally, in the wits of Greece. -The everlasting monument of the _marble_ temple is then reared: - - _Et viridi in campo templum de_ MARMORE _ponam_. - -And, because ancient superstition usually preferred, for these -purposes, the banks of _rivers_ to other situations, therefore the -poet, in beautiful allusion to the site of some of the most celebrated -pagan temples, builds _his_ on the MINCIUS. We see with what a -scrupulous propriety the allusion is carried on. - - _Propter aquam, tardis ingens ubi flexibus errat_ - MINCIUS, _et tenera praetexit arundine ripas_. - -Next, this temple was to be dedicated, as a monument of the victor’s -_piety_, as well as glory, to some propitious, tutelary deity, under -whose auspices the great adventure had been atchieved. The _dedication_ -is then made to the poet’s _divinity_, Augustus: - - _In medio mihi_ CAESAR _erit, templumque tenebit_. - -TEMPLUM TENEBIT. The expression is emphatical; as intimating to us, and -prefiguring the secret purpose of the Aeneïs, which was, in the person -of Aeneas, to shadow forth and consecrate the character of Augustus. -His divinity was to fill and _occupy_ that great work. And the ample -circuit of the epic plan was projected only, as a more awful enclosure -of that august presence, which was to _inhabit_ and solemnize the vast -round of this poetic building. - -And now the wonderful address of the poet’s artifice appears. The mad -servility of his country had _deified_ the emperor in good earnest; -and his brother poets made no scruple to _worship_ in his temples, and -to come before him with handfuls of _real_ incense, smoking from the -altars. But the sobriety of Virgil’s adoration was of another cast. He -seizes this circumstance only to _embody_ a poetical fiction; which, -on the supposition of an actual _deification_, hath all the force of -compliment, which the _fact_ implies, and yet, as presented through -the chast veil of allegory, eludes the offence, which the _naked_ -recital must needs have given to sober and reasonable men. Had the -emperor’s _popular_ divinity been flatly acknowledged, and adored, -the praise, even under Virgil’s management, had been insufferable for -its extravagance; and, without some support for his poetical _numen_ -to rest upon, the figure had been more forced and strained, than the -rules of just writing allow. As it is, the historical truth of his -_apotheosis_ authorizes and supports the _fiction_, and the fiction, in -its turn, serves to refine and palliate the _history_. - -The Aeneïs being, by the poet’s improvement of this circumstance, thus -naturally predicted under the image of a _temple_, we may expect to -find a close and studied analogy betwixt them. The great, component -parts of the _one_ will, no doubt, be made, very faithfully, to -represent and adumbrate those of the _other_. This hath been executed -with great art and diligence. - -1. The _temple_, we observed, was erected on the banks of a river. This -site was not only proper, for the reason already mentioned, but also, -for the further convenience of instituting _public games_, the ordinary -attendants of the _consecration_ of temples. These were generally, -as in the case of the Olympic and others, celebrated on the banks of -rivers. - - _Illi victor ego, et Tyrio conspectus in ostro, - Centum quadrijugos agitabo ad flumina currus. - Cuncta mihi, Alpheum linquens lucosque Molorchi, - Cursibus et crudo decernet Graecia caestu._ - -To see the propriety of the _figure_ in this place, the reader needs -only be reminded of the _book of games_ in the Aeneïd, which was -purposely introduced in honour of the Emperor, and not, as is commonly -thought, for a mere trial of skill between the poet and his master. The -emperor was passionately fond of these sports, and was even the author, -or restorer, of _one_ of them. It is not to be doubted, that he alludes -also to the _quinquennial games_, actually celebrated, in honour of his -temples, through many parts of the empire. And this the poet undertakes -in the _civil_ office of VICTOR. - -2. What follows is in the _religious_ office of PRIEST. For it is to -be noted, that, in assuming this double character, which the decorum -of the solemnities, here recounted, prescribed, the poet has an eye to -the _political_ design of the Aeneïs, which was to do honour to Caesar, -in either capacity of a _civil_ and _religious_ personage; both being -essential to the idea of the PERFECT LEGISLATOR, whose office and -character (as an eminent critic hath lately shewn us[36]) it was his -purpose, in this immortal work, to adorn and recommend. The account of -his _sacerdotal functions_ is delivered in these words: - - _Ipse caput tonsae foliis ornatus olivae - Dona feram. Jam, nunc solemnes ducere pompas - Ad delubra juvat, caesosque videre juvencos; - Vel scena ut versis discedat frontibus, utque - Purpurea intexti tollant aulaea Britanni._ - -The imagery in this place cannot be understood, without reflecting on -the customary form and disposition of the pagan temples. DELUBRUM, or -DELUBRA, for either _number_ is used indifferently, denotes the shrine, -or sanctuary, wherein the statue of the presiding God was placed. This -was in the center of the building. Exactly before the _delubrum_, and -at no great distance from it, was the ALTAR. Further, the shrine, or -_delubrum_, was inclosed and shut up on all sides by _doors_ of curious -carved-work, and ductile _veils_, embellished by the rich embroidery -of _flowers_, _animals_, or _human figures_. This being observed, the -progress of the imagery before us will be this. The procession _ad -delubra_, or shrine: the sacrifice on the _altars_, erected before it; -and lastly, the painted, or rather wrought _scenery_ of the purple -_veils_, inclosing the image, which were ornamented, and seemed to be -sustained or held up by the figures of _inwoven Britons_. The meaning -of all which, is, that the poet would proceed to the celebration of -Caesar’s praise in all the gradual, solemn preparation of poetic pomp: -that he would render the most grateful _offerings_ to his divinity in -those occasional _episodes_, which he should consecrate to his more -immediate honour: and, finally, that he would provide the richest -texture of his fancy, for a covering to that admired _image_ of his -virtues, which was to make the sovereign pride and glory of his poem. -The choice of the _inwoven Britons_, for the support of his _veil_, is -well accounted for by those, who tell us, that Augustus was proud to -have a number of these to serve about him in quality of slaves. - -The ornaments of the DOORS of this _delubrum_, on which the sculptor -used to lavish all the riches of his _art_, are next delineated. - - _In foribus pugnam ex auro solidoque elephanto - Gangaridum faciam, victorisque arma Quirini; - Atque hic undantem bello, magnumque fluentem - Nilum, ac navali surgentes aere columnas. - Addam urbes Asiae domitas, pulsumque Niphatem, - Fidentemque fugâ Parthum versisque sagittis; - Et duo rapta manu diverso ex hoste trophaea, - Bisque triumphatas utroque ex littore gentes._ - -Here the covering of the _figure_ is too thin to hide the _literal_ -meaning from the commonest reader, who sees, that the several triumphs -of Caesar, here recorded in _sculpture_, are those, which the poet -hath taken most pains to _finish_, and hath occasionally inserted, as -it were, in _miniature_, in several places of his _poem_. Let him only -turn to the prophetic speech of Anchises’ shade in the VI^{th}, and to -the description of the shield in the VIII^{th} book. - -Hitherto we have contemplated the decorations of the _shrine_, i. e. -such as bear a more direct and immediate reference to the honour of -Caesar. We are now presented with a view of the remoter, surrounding -ornaments of the temple. These are the illustrious Trojan chiefs, -whose story was to furnish the materials, or, more properly, to form -the body and _case_, as it were, of his august structure. They are -also connected with the idol deity of the place by the closest ties -of relationship, the Julian family affecting to derive its pedigree -from this proud original. The poet then, in his arrangement of these -additional figures, with admirable judgment, completes and rounds the -entire fiction. - - _Stabunt et Parii lapides, spirantia signa, - Assaraci proles, demissaeque ab Jove gentis - Nomina: Trosque parens et Trojae Cynthius auctor._ - -Nothing now remains but for _fame_ to eternize the glories of what -the great architect had, at the expence of so much art and labour, -completed; which is predicted in the highest sublime of ancient poetry, -under the idea of ENVY, whom the poet personalizes, shuddering at the -view of such transcendent perfection; and tasting, beforehand, the -pains of a remediless vexation, strongly pictured in the image of the -worst, infernal tortures. - - INVIDIA _infelix furias amnemque severum - Cocyti metuet, tortosque Ixionis angues, - Immanemque rotam, et non exuperabile saxum_. - -Thus have I presumed, but with a religious awe, to inspect and declare -the mysteries of this ideal temple. The attempt after all might have -been censured, as prophane, if the great _Mystagogue_ himself, or some -body for him[37], had not given us the undoubted key to it. Under this -encouragement I could not withstand the temptation of disclosing thus -much of one of the noblest fictions of antiquity; and the rather, as -the propriety of allegoric composition, which made the distinguished -pride of ancient poetry, seems but little known or attended to by the -_modern_ professors of this fine art. - - * * * * * - -17. NIL ORITURUM ALIAS, NIL ORTUM TALE FATENTES.] _Il n’est -impossible_, says M. DE BALZAC, in that puffed, declamatory rhapsody, -intitled, LE PRINCE, _de resister au mouvement interieur, qui me -pousse. Je ne sçaurois m’empecher de parler du_ ROY, _et de sa vertu; -de crier à tous les princes, que c’est l’exemple, qu’ils doivent -suivre_; DE DEMANDER A TOUS LES PEUPLES, ET A TOUS LES AGES, S’ILS ONT -JAMAIS RIEN VEU DE SEMBLABLE. This was spoken of a king of France, -who, it will be owned, had his virtues. But they were the virtues of -the _man_, and not of the _Prince_. This, however, was a distinction, -which the eloquent encomiast was not aware of, or, to speak more truly, -his business required him to overlook. For the whole elogy is worth -perusing, as it affords a striking proof of the uniform genius of -flattery, which, alike under all circumstances, and indifferent to all -characters, can hold the same language of the weakest, as the ablest of -princes, of LOUIS LE JUSTE, and CAESAR OCTAVIANUS AUGUSTUS. - - * * * * * - -23. SIC FAUTOR VETERUM, &c. to v. 28.] The folly, here satyrized, -is common enough in all countries, and extends to all arts. It was -just the same preposterous affectation of venerating antiquity, which -put the connoisseurs in _painting_, under the emperors, on crying up -the simple and rude sketches of AGLAOPHON and POLYGNOTUS, above the -exquisite and finished pictures of PARRHASIUS and ZEUXIS. The account -is given by Quintilian, who in his censure of this absurdity, points -to the undoubted source of it. His words are these: “Primi, quorum -quidem opera non vetustatis modò gratiâ visenda sunt, clari pictores -fuisse dicuntur Polygnotus et Aglaophon; quorum simplex color tam sui -studiosos adhuc habet, ut illa propè rudia ac velut futurae mox artis -primordia, maximis, qui post eos extiterunt, auctoribus praeferantur, -PROPRIO QUODAM INTELLIGENDI (ut mea fert opinio) AMBITU.” [L. xii. c. -10.] The lover of painting must be the more surprized at this strange -_preference_, when he is told, that Aglaophon, at least, had the use -of only _one single colour_: whereas Parrhasius and Zeuxis, who are -amongst the _maximi autores_, here glanced at, not only employed -_different colours_, but were exceedingly eminent, the one of them for -_correct drawing, and the delicacy of his outline_; the _other_, for -his _invention_ of that great secret of the _chiaro oscuro_. “Post -Zeuxis et Parrhasius: quorum prior LUMINUM UMBRARUMQUE INVENISSE -RATIONEM, secundus, EXAMINASSE SUBTILIUS LINEAS DICITUR.” [Ibid.] - - * * * * * - -28. SI, QUIA GRAIORUM SUNT ANTIQUISSIMA QUAEQUE SCRIPTA vel OPTIMA, -&c.] The common interpretation of this place supposes the poet to -admit _the most ancient of the Greek writings to be the best_. Which -were even contrary to all experience and common sense, and is directly -confuted by the history of the Greek learning. What he allows is, the -_superiority_ of the oldest Greek writings _extant_; which is a very -different thing. The turn of his argument confines us to this sense. -For he would shew the folly of concluding the same of the _old Roman_ -writers, on their _first_ rude attempts to copy the finished models of -Greece, as of the _old Greek writers_ themselves, who were furnished -with the means of producing those _models_ by long discipline and -cultivation. This appears, certainly, from what follows: - - _Venimus ad summum fortunae: pingimus atque - Psallimus et luctamur Achivis doctius unctis_. - -The design of which hath been entirely overlooked. For it hath been -taken only for a _general expression_ of falsehood and absurdity, of -just the same import, as the proverbial line, - - _Nil intra est oleâ, nil extra est in nuce duri_. - -Whereas it was _designedly_ pitched upon to convey a _particular -illustration_ of the very absurdity in question, and to shew the -maintainers of it, from the nature of things, how senseless their -position was. It is to this purpose: “As well it may be pretended, -that we _Romans_ surpass the _Greeks_ in the arts of _painting, music, -and the exercises of the palaestra_, which yet it is confessed, we do -not, as that our _old_ writers surpass the _modern_. The absurdity, -in either case, is the same. For, as the Greeks, who had long devoted -themselves, with great and continued application, to the practice of -these arts (which is the force of the epithet UNCTI, here given them) -must, for that reason, carry the prize from the Romans, who have taken -very little pains about them; so, the modern Romans, who have for a -long time been studying the _arts of poetry and composition_, must -needs excel the old Roman writers, who had little or no acquaintance -with those arts, and had been trained, by no previous discipline, to -the exercise of them.” - -The conciseness of the expression made it necessary to open the poet’s -sense at large. We now see, that his intention, in these two lines, was -to expose, in the way of _argumentative illustration_, the ground of -that absurdity, which the preceding verses had represented as, at first -sight, so shocking to _common sense_. - - * * * * * - -33. UNCTIS.] This is by no means a general unmeaning epithet: but is -beautifully chosen to express the unwearied _assiduity_ of the Greek -artists. For the practice of _anointing_ being essential to their -agonistic trials, the poet elegantly puts the attending _circumstance_ -for the _thing_ itself. And so, in speaking of them, as UNCTI, he does -the same, as if he had called them “the industrious, or _exercising_ -Greeks;” which was the very idea his argument required him to suggest -to us. - - * * * * * - -43.—HONESTE.] Expressing the _credit_ such a piece was held in, as had -the fortune to be ranked _inter veteres_, agreeably to what he said -above—PERFECTOS _veteresque_ v. 37—and—_vetus atque_ PROBUS v. 39: -which affords a fresh presumption in favour of Dr. Bentley’s conjecture -on v. 41, where, instead of _veteres poetas_, he would read, - - _Inter quos referendus erit? veteresne_ PROBOSQUE, - _An quos &c._ - - * * * * * - -54. ADEO SANCTUM EST VETUS OMNE POEMA.] The reader is not to suppose, -that Horace, in this ridicule of the foolish adorers of antiquity, -intended any contempt of the old Roman poets, who, as the old writers -in every country, abound in strong sense, vigorous expression, and the -truest representation of life and manners. His quarrel is only with the -critic: - - _Qui redit in fastos et virtutem aestimat annis._ - -An affectation, which for its _folly_, if it had not too apparently -sprung from a worse principle, deserved to be laughed at. - -For the rest, he every where discovers a candid and just esteem of -their earlier writers; as may be seen from many places in this very -epistle; but more especially from that severe censure in 1 S. x. 17. -(which hath more of acrimony in it, than he usually allows to his -satyr) when, in speaking of the writers of the old comedy, he adds, - - _Quos neque pulcher - Hermogenes unquam legit, neque simius iste - Nil praeter Calvum et doctus cantare Catullum._ - -With all his zeal for correct writing, he was not, we see, of the -humour of that delicate sort, who are for burning their old poets; -and, to be well with women and court critics, confine their reading -and admiration to the innocent sing-song of some soft and fashionable -rhymer, whose utter insipidity is a thousand times more insufferable, -than any barbarism. - - * * * * * - -56. PACUVIUS DOCTI FAMAM SENIS, ACCIUS ALTI:] The epithet _doctus_, -here applied to the tragic poet, _Pacuvius_, is, I believe, sometimes -misunderstood, though the opposition to _altus_ clearly determines the -sense. For, as this last word expresses the _sublime_ of sentiment and -expression, which comes from _nature_, so the former word must needs be -interpreted of that _exactness_ in both, or at least of that _skill_ -in the conduct of the scene (the proper _learning_ of a dramatic poet) -which is the result of _art_. - -The Latin word _doctus_ is indeed somewhat ambiguous: but we are -chiefly misled by the English word, _learned_, by which we translate -it, and by which, in general use, is meant, rather extensive reading, -and what we call _erudition_, than a profound skill in the rules and -principles of any art. But this last is frequently the sense of the -Latin term _doctus_, as we may see from its application, in the best -classic writers, to other, besides the literary professions. Thus, to -omit other instances, we find it applied very often in Horace himself. -It is applied to a _singing-girl_—_doctae_ psallere Chiae—in one of -his Odes, l. iv. 13. It is applied to several _mechanic arts_ in this -epistle—“_doctius_ Achivis pingimus atque psallimus et luctamur:” It -is even applied, _absolutely_, to the player Roscius—_doctus_ Roscius, -in v. 82, where his skill in _acting_ could only be intended by it. It -is, also, in this sense, that he calls his imitator, _doctus_, i. e. -skilled and knowing in his art, A. P. v. 319. Nay, it is precisely in -this sense that Quinctilian uses the word, when he characterizes this -very Pacuvius—_Pacuvium videri_ doctiorem, _qui esse docti affectant, -volunt_ [l. x. c. 1.] i. e. _they, who affect to be thought knowing -in the rules of dramatic writing, give this praise to Pacuvius_. -The expression is so put, as if Quinctilian intended a censure of -these critics; because this pretence to dramatic art, and the strict -imitation of the Greek poets, was grown, in his time, and long before -it, into a degree of pedantry and _affectation_; no other merit but -this of _docti_, being of any significancy, in their account. There is -no reason to think that Quinctilian meant to insinuate the poet’s want -of this merit, or his own contempt of it: though he might think, and -with reason, that too much stress had been laid upon it by some men. - -It is in the same manner that one of our own poets has been -characterized; and the application of this term to him will shew the -force of it, still more clearly. - -In Mr. Pope’s fine imitation of this epistle, are these lines— - - In all debates, where critics bear a part, - Not one but nods, and talks of Jonson’s _art_— - -One sees, then, how Mr. Pope understood the _docti_, of Horace. But our -Milton applies the word _learned_ itself, and in the Latin sense of it, -to Jonson— - - When Jonson’s _learned_ sock is on— - -For what is this _learning_? Indisputably, his _dramatic learning_, -his skill in the scene, and his observance of the ancient rules and -practice. For, though Jonson was indeed _learned_, in every sense, it -is the learning of his profession, as a comic artist, for which he is -here celebrated. - -The Latin substantive, _doctrina_, is used with the same latitude, as -the adjective, _doctus_. It sometimes signifies the _peculiar sort_ -of learning, under consideration; though sometimes again it signifies -_learning_, or erudition, at large. It is used in the _former_ -sense by Cicero, when he observes of the satires of Lucilius, that -they were remarkable for their wit and pleasantry, not for their -_learning_—_doctrina_ mediocris. So that there is no contradiction -in this judgment, as is commonly thought, to that of Quinctilian, who -declares roundly—_eruditio_ in eo mira—For, though _doctrina_ and -_eruditio_ be sometimes convertible terms, they are not so here. The -_learning_ Cicero speaks of in Lucilius, as being but _moderate_, is -his learning, or skill in the art of writing and composition.—That -this was the whole purport of Cicero’s observation, any one may see by -turning to the place where it occurs, in the proeme to his first book -DE FINIBUS. - - * * * * * - -59. VINCERE CAECILIUS GRAVITATE, TERENTIUS ARTE.] It should be -observed, that the judgment, here passed [from v. 55 to 60] on the most -celebrated Roman writers, being only a representation of the _popular_ -opinion, not of the poet’s _own_, the commendations, given to them, are -deserved, or otherwise, just as it chances. - - _Interdum volgus rectum videt, est ubi peccat._ - -To give an instance of this in the line before us. - -A critic of unquestioned authority acquaints us, wherein the -_real distinct merit_ of these two dramatic writers consists. “In -ARGUMENTIS, Caecilius palmam poscit; in ETHESIN, TERENTIUS.” [Varro.] -Now by _gravitate_, as applied to Caecilius, we may properly enough -understand the _grave and affecting cast_ of his comedy; which is -further confirmed by what the same critic elsewhere observes of him. -“PATHE Trabea, Attilius, et CAECILIUS facile moverunt.” But Terence’s -characteristic of _painting the manners_, which is, plainly, the right -interpretation of Varro’s ETHESIN, is not so significantly expressed -by the attribute _arte_, here given to him. The word indeed is of -large and general import, and may admit of various senses; but being -here applied to a _dramatic_ writer, it most naturally and properly -denotes the _peculiar_ art of his profession, that is, _the artificial -contexture of the plot_. And this I doubt not was the very praise, the -town-critics of Horace’s time intended to bestow on this poet. The -matter is easily explained. - -The simplicity and exact unity of the plots in the Greek comedies would -be, of course, uninteresting to a people, not thoroughly instructed -in the genuin beauties of the drama. They had too thin a contexture -to satisfy the gross and lumpish taste of a Roman auditory. The Latin -poets, therefore, bethought themselves of combining two stories into -one. And this, which is what we call the _double plot_, affording the -opportunity of more incidents, and a greater variety of _action_, -was perfectly suited to their apprehensions. But, of all the Latin -Comedians, _Terence_ appears to have practised this secret most -assiduously: at least, as may be concluded from what remains of them. -_Plautus_ hath very frequently _single plots_, which he was enabled to -support by, what was natural to him, a force of buffoon pleasantry. -_Terence_, whose genius lay another way, or whose taste was abhorrent -from such ribaldry, had recourse to the other expedient of _double -plots_. And this, I suppose, is what gained him the popular reputation -of being the most _artificial_ writer for the stage. The HECYRA is the -only one of his comedies, of the true ancient cast. And we know how it -came off in the representation. That ill-success and the simplicity -of its conduct have continued to draw upon it the same unfavourable -treatment from the critics, to this day; who constantly speak of -it, as much inferior to the rest; whereas, for the genuin beauty of -dramatic design, and the observance, after the ancient Greek manner, -of the nice dependency and coherence of the _fable_, throughout, it -is, indisputably, to every reader of true taste, the most masterly and -exquisite of the whole collection. - - * * * * * - -63. INTERDUM VOLGUS RECTUM VIDET: EST UBI PECCAT.] The capricious -levity of _popular opinion_ hath been noted even to a proverb. And -yet it is this, which, after all, _fixes_ the fate of authors. This -seemingly odd phaenomenon I would thus account for. - -What is usually complimented with the high and reverend appellation -of _public judgment_ is, in any single instance, but the repetition -or echo, for the most part eagerly catched and strongly reverberated -on all sides, of a few leading voices, which have happened to gain -the confidence, and so direct the _cry_ of the public. But (as, in -fact, it too often falls out) this prerogative of the _few_ may be -abused to the prejudice of the _many_. The partialities of friendship, -the fashionableness of the writer, his compliance with the reigning -taste, the lucky concurrence of time and opportunity, the cabal of -a party, nay, the very freaks of whim and caprice, these, or any of -them, as occasion serves, can support the dullest, as the opposite -disadvantages can depress the noblest performance; and give the -currency or neglect to _either_, far beyond what the genuin character -of each demands. Hence the _public voice_, which is but the aggregate -of these corrupt judgments, infinitely multiplied, is, with the wise, -at such a juncture, deservedly of little esteem. Yet, in a succession -of such _judgments_, delivered at different times and by different -sets or juntos of these sovereign arbiters of the fate of authors, the -public opinion naturally gets clear of these accidental corruptions. -Every fresh succession shakes off some; till, by degrees, the work is -seen in its proper form, unsupported of every other recommendation, -than what its native inherent excellence bestows upon it. Then, and not -till then, _the voice of the people_ becomes sacred; after which it -soon advances into _divinity_, before which all ages must fall down and -worship. For now Reason alone, without her corrupt assessors, takes the -chair. And her sentence, when once promulgated and authorized by the -general voice, fixes the unalterable doom of authors. ΟΛΩΣ ΚΑΛΑ ΝΟΜΙΖΕ -ΥΨΗ ΚΑΙ ΑΛΗΘΙΝΑ, ΤΑ ΔΙΑΠΑΝΤΟΣ ΑΡΕΣΚΟΝΤΑ ΚΑΙ ΠΑΣΙΝ [Longinus, § vii.] -And the reason follows, agreeably to the account here given. Ὅταν γὰρ -τοῖς ἀπὸ διαφόρων ΕΠΙΤΗΔΕΥΜΑΤΩΝ, ΒΙΩΝ, ΖΗΛΩΝ, ΗΛΙΚΙΩΝ, λόγων, ἕν τι καὶ -ταὐτὸν ἅμα περὶ τῶν αὐτῶν ἅπασι δοκῇ, τόθ’ ἡ ἐξ ἀσυμφώνων ὡς κρίσις -καὶ συγκατάθεσις τὴν ἐπὶ τῷ θαυμαζομένῳ ΠΙΣΤΙΝ ΙΣΧΥΡΑΝ ΛΑΜΒΑΝΕΙ ΚΑΙ -ΑΝΑΜΦΙΛΕΚΤΟΝ. [Ibid.] - -This is the true account of _popular fame_, which, while it well -explains the ground of the poet’s aphorism, suggests an obvious remark, -but very mortifying to every candidate of literary glory. It is, that, -whether he succeeds in his endeavours after public applause, or not, -_fame_ is equally out of his reach, and, as the moral poet teaches, _a -thing beyond him, before his death_, on either supposition. For at the -very time, that this bewitching music is sounding in his ears, he can -never be sure, if, instead of the divine consentient harmony of a just -praise, it be not only the discordant din and clamour of ignorance or -prepossession. - -If there be any exception to this melancholy truth, it must be in the -case of some uncommon genius, whose superior power breaks through all -impediments in his road to fame, and forces applause even from those -very prejudices, that would obstruct his career to it. It was the rare -felicity of the poet, just mentioned, to receive, in his life-time, -this sure and pleasing augury of immortality. - - * * * * * - -88. INGENIIS NON ILLE FAVET, &c.] MALHERBE was to the French, pretty -much what HORACE had been to the Latin, poetry. These great writers -had, each of them, rescued the lyric muse of their country out of the -rude, ungracious hands of their old poets. And, as their talents of -a _good ear_, _elegant judgment_, and _correct expression_, were the -same, they presented her to the public in all the air and grace, and -yet _severity_, of beauty, of which her form was susceptible. Their -merits and pretensions being thus far resembling, the reader may not -be incurious to know the fate and fortune of _each_. _Horace_ hath -very frankly told us, what befel himself from the malevolent and low -passions of his countrymen. _Malherbe_ did not come off, with the -wits and critics of his time, much better; as we learn from a learned -person, who hath very warmly recommended his writings to the public. -Speaking of the envy, which pursued him in his _prose-works_, but, -says he, “Comme il faisoit une particuliere profession de la _poesie_, -c’est en cette qualité qu’il a de plus severes censeurs, et receu des -injustices plus signalées. Mais il me semble que je fermerai la bouche -à ceux, que le blament, quand je leur aurai monstré, que sa façon -d’escrire est excellente, quoiqu’elle s’eloigne un peu de celle des -NOS ANCIENS POETES, QU’ILS LOUENT PLUSTOT PAR UN DEGOUST DES CHOSES -PRESENTES, QUE PAR LES SENTIMENTS D’UNE VERITABLE ESTIME.” [DISC. DE M. -GODEAU SUR LES OEUVRES DE M. MALHERBE.] - - * * * * * - -97. SUSPENDIT MENTEM VULTUMQUE.] The expression hath great elegance, -and is not liable to the imputation of _harsh, or improper -construction_. For _suspendit_ is not taken, with regard either -to _mentem_ or _vultum_, in its _literal_, but _figurative_, -signification; and, thus, it becomes, in one and the _same_ sense, -applicable to _both_. - -Otherwise, this way of coupling _two substantives_ to a _verb_, which -does not, in strict grammatical usage, _govern_ both; or, if it doth, -must needs be construed in different senses; hath given just offence to -the best critics. - -Mr. Pope censures a passage of this kind, in the _Iliad_, with -severity; and thinks _the taste of the ancients was, in general, too -good for those fooleries_[38]. - -Mr. Addison is perfectly of the same mind, as appears from his -criticism on that line in Ovid, _Consiliis, non curribus utere -nostris_, “This way of joining, says he, two such different ideas as -chariot and counsel to the same verb, is mightily used by _Ovid_, but -is a very low kind of wit, and has always in it a mixture of _pun_; -because the verb must be taken in a different sense, when it is -joined with one of the things, from what it has in conjunction with -the other. Thus in the end of this story he tells you, that Jupiter -flung a thunderbolt at Phaëton; _pariterque animaque rotisque expulit -aurigam_: where he makes a forced piece of _Latin_ (_animâ expulit -aurigam_) that he may couple the soul and the wheels to the same -verb[39].” - -These, the reader will think, are pretty good authorities. For, in -matters of _taste_, I know of none, that more deserve to be regarded. -The _mere verbal critic_, one would think, should be cautious, how -he opposed himself to them. And yet a very learned Dutchman, who has -taken great pains in _elucidating_ an old Greek love-story, which, with -its more passionate admirers, may, perhaps, pass for the MARIANNE of -antiquity, hath not scrupled to censure this decision of their’s very -sharply[40]. - -Having transcribed the censure of Mr. Pope, who, indeed, somewhat too -hastily, suspects the line in Homer for an Interpolation, our critic -fastens upon him directly. EN COR ZENODOTI, EN JECUR CRATETIS! But foul -language and fair criticism are different things; and what he offers of -the _latter_ rather accounts for than justifies the _former_. All he -says on the subject, is in the good old way of _authorities_, which, -he diligently rakes together out of every corner of Greek and Roman -antiquity. From all these he concludes, as he thinks, irresistibly, not -that the passage in question _might_ be _genuin_ (for that few would -dispute with him) but that the kind of expression itself is a _real -beauty_. _Bona elocutio est: honesta figura._ Though, to the praise -of his discretion be it remembered, he does not even venture on this -assertion, without his usual support of _precedent_. And, for want -of a better, he takes up with old _Servius_. For so, it seems, this -grammarian hath declared himself, with respect to some expressions of -the same kind in _Virgil_. - -But let him make the best of his authorities. And, when he has done -that, I shall take the liberty to assure him, that the persons, he -contends against, do not think themselves, in the least, concerned with -them. For, though he believes it an undeniable maxim, _Critici non -esse inquirere, utrum recte autor quid scripserit, sed an omnino sic -scripserit_[41]: yet, in the case before us, he must not be surprized, -if others do not so conceive of it. - -Indeed, where the critic would defend the _authenticity_ of a word or -expression, the way of _precedent_ is, doubtless, the very best, that -common sense allows to be taken. For the evidence of _fact_, at once, -bears down all suspicion of _corruption_ or _interpolation_. Again; -if the _elegance_ of single words (or of intire phrases, where the -suspicion turns on the _oddity or uncommoness of the construction_, -only) be the matter in dispute, full and precise authorities must -decide it. For _elegance_, here, means nothing else but the practice -of the best writers. And thus far I would join issue with the learned -censurer; and should think he did well in prescribing this rule to -himself in the correction of _approved ancient authors_. - -But what have these cases to do with the point in question? The -objection is made, not to _words_, which alone are capable of being -justified by authority, but to _things_, which must ever be what they -are, in spite of it. This mode of writing is shewn to be abundantly -defective, for reasons taken from _the nature of our ideas, and the end -and genius of the nobler forms of composition_. And what is it to tell -us, that great writers have overlooked or neglected them? - -1. In our customary train of _thinking_, the mind is carried along, -_in succession_, from _one_ clear and distinct idea to _another_. -Or, if the attention be _at once_ employed on _two senses_, there is -ever such a close and near analogy betwixt them, that the perceptive -faculty, easily and almost instantaneously passing from the one to -the other, is not divided in its regards betwixt them, but even seems -to itself to consider them, as _one_: as is the case with _metaphor_: -and, universally, with all the just forms of _allusion_. The union -between the _literal_ and _figurative_ sense is so strict, that they -run together in the imagination; and the effect of the _figure_ is only -to let in fresh light and lustre on the _literal_ meaning. But now, -when _two different, unconnected ideas_ are obtruded, at the same time -upon us, the mind suffers a kind of violence and distraction, and is -thereby put out of that natural state, in which it so much delights. -To take the learned writer’s instance from Polybius: ΕΛΠΙΔΑ καὶ ΧΕΙΡΑ -ΠΡΟΣΛΑΜΒΑΝΕΙΝ. How different is the idea of _collecting forces_, and -of that _act_ of the mind, which we call _taking courage_! These two -_perceptions_ are not only distinct from each other, but totally -unconnected by any _natural_ bond of relationship betwixt them. And yet -the word ΠΡΟΣΛΑΜΒΑΝΕΙΝ must be seen in this double view, before we can -take the full meaning of the historian. - -2. This conjunction of _unrelated_ ideas, by the means of a _common -term_, agrees as ill to the _end and genius of the writer’s -composition_, as _the natural bent and constitution of the mind_. For -the question is only about the _greater poetry_, which addresses itself -to the PASSIONS, or IMAGINATION. And, in either case, this play of -words which Mr. Pope condemns, must be highly out of season. - -When we are necessitated, as it were, to look different ways, and -actually to contemplate two unconnected significations of the same -word, before we can thoroughly comprehend its purpose, the mind is -more amused by this fanciful conjunction of ideas, than is consistent -with the artless, undesigning simplicity of _passion_. It disturbs and -interrupts the flow of _affection_, by presenting this disparted image -to the _fancy_. Again; where _fancy_ itself is solely addressed, as in -the _nobler descriptive species_, this arbitrary assemblage of ideas -is not less improper. For the poet’s business is now, to astonish or -entertain the mind with a succession of _great_ or _beautiful_ images. -And the intervention of this juggler’s trick diverts the thought from -contemplating its proper scenery. We should be admiring some glorious -representation of _nature_, and are stopped, on a sudden, to observe -the writer’s _art_, whose ingenuity can fetch, out of one word, two -such foreign and discrepant meanings. - -In the lighter forms of poetry indeed, and more especially in the -_burlesque epic_, this affectation has its _place_; as in that line of -Mr. Pope, quoted by this critic; - - _sometimes counsel_ takes, _and sometimes tea_. - -For 1. The writer’s intention is here, not to _affect the passions_, -or _transport the fancy_, but solely to _divert and amuse_. And to -such _end_ this species of trifling is very apposite. 2. The _manner_, -which the burlesque epic takes to divert, is by confounding _great -things with small_. A _mode of speech_ then, which favours such -_confusion_, is directly to its purpose. 3. This poem is, by its -nature, _satyrical_, and, like the _old comedy_, delights in exposing -the faults and vices of _composition_. So that the _expression_ is -here properly employed (and this was, perhaps, the _first_ view of the -writer) to ridicule the use of it in _grave works_. If M. _D’Orville_ -then could seriously design to confute Mr. Pope’s criticism by his own -practice in that line of the _Rape of the Lock_, he has only shewn, -that he does not, in the least, comprehend the real genius of this -poem. But to return: - -There is, as appears to me, but one case, in which this _double sense_ -of words can be admitted in the more solemn forms of poetry. It is, -when, besides the plain literal meaning, which the context demands, the -mind is carried forward to some more illustrious and important object. -We have an instance in the famous line of Virgil, - - _Attollens humeris famamque et fata nepotum_. - -But this is so far from contradicting, that it furthers the writer’s -proper intention. We are not called off from the _subject matter_ to -the observation of a _conceit_, but to the admiration of _kindred_ -sublime conceptions. For even here, it is to be observed, there is -always required some previous dependency and relationship, though not -extremely obvious, in the natures of the things themselves, whereon to -ground and justify the analogy. Otherwise, the intention of the _double -sense_ is perfectly inexcusable. - -But the instance from Virgil, as we have seen it explained (and for -the first time) by a great critic[42], is so curious, that I shall -be allowed to enlarge a little upon it: and the rather as Virgil’s -practice in this instance will let us into the true secret of -conducting these _double senses_. - -The comment of _Servius_ on this line is remarkable. “Hunc versum -notant Critici, quasi superfluè et inutiliter additum, nec -convenientem _gravitati_ ejus, namque est magis _neotericus_.” Mr. -Addison conceived of it in the same manner when he said, “_This was the -only witty line in the Æneis_;” meaning such a line as _Ovid_ would -have written. We see the opinion which these Critics entertained of the -_double sense_, in _general_, in the greater Poetry. They esteemed it -a wanton play of fancy, misbecoming the dignity of the writer’s work, -and the gravity of his character. They took it, in short, for a mere -_modern_ flourish, totally different from the pure unaffected manner of -genuin antiquity. And thus far they unquestionably judged right. Their -defect was in not seeing that the _use_ of it, as here employed by the -Poet, was an exception to the _general rule_. But to have seen this was -not, perhaps, to be expected even from these Critics. - -However, from this want of penetration arose a difficulty in -determining whether to read, _Facta_ or _Fata_ Nepotum. And, as we -now understand that _Servius_ and his Critics were utter strangers to -Virgil’s noble idea, it is no wonder they could not resolve it. But the -_latter_ is the Poet’s own word. He considered this shield of celestial -make as a kind of Palladium, like the ANCILE, which fell from Heaven, -and used to be carried in procession on the shoulders of the SALII. -“Quid de scutis,” says Lactantius, “jam vetustate putridis dicam? Quae -cum portant, _Deos ipsos se gestare_ HUMERIS SUIS _arbitrantur_.” [Div. -Inst. l. i. c. 21.] - -Virgil, in a fine flight of imagination, alludes to this venerable -ceremony, comparing, as it were, the shield of his Hero to the sacred -ANCILE; and in conformity to the practice in that sacred procession -represents his Hero in the priestly office of Religion, - - _Attollens_ HUMERO _famamque et_ FATA _Nepotum._ - -This idea then of the sacred shield, the guard and glory of Rome, and -on which, in this advanced situation, depended the fame and fortune of -his country, the poet, with extreme elegance and sublimity, transfers -to the shield which guarded their great progenitor, while he was laying -the first foundations of the Roman Empire. - -But to return to the subject before us. What has been said of the -impropriety of _double senses_, holds of _the construction of a single -term in two senses_, even though its authorized usage may equally admit -_both_. So that I cannot be of a mind with the learned critic’s _wise -men_[43]; _who acknowledge an extreme elegance in this form, when the -governing verb equally corresponds to the two substantives_. But when -it properly can be applied but to _one_ of them, and with some force -and straining only, to the _second_, as commonly happens with the -application of _one verb_ to _two substantives_, it then degenerates, -as Mr. Addison observes, into a mere _quibble_, and is utterly -incompatible with the graver form of composition. And for this we have -the concurrent authority of the _cordati_ themselves, who readily -admit, _durum admodum et_ καταχρηστικωτέραν _fieri orationem, si verbum -hoc ab alterutro abhorreat_[44]. Without softening matters, besides the -former absurdity of _a second sense_, we are now indebted to a forced -and barbarous construction for _any_ second sense _at all_. - -But surely this venerable bench of critics, to whom our censurer thinks -fit to make his solemn appeal, were not aware of the imprudence of this -concession. For why, if one may presume to ask, is the _latter_ use -of this _figure_ condemned, but for reasons, which shew the manifest -absurdity of the thing, however countenanced by authorities? And is not -this the case of the _former_? Or, is the transgression of the standing -rules of _good sense_, in the judgment of these _censors_, a more -pardonable crime in a writer, than of _common usage or grammar_? - -After all, since he lays so great stress on his _authorities_, it may -not be amiss to consider the proper force of them. - -The form of speaking under consideration has been censured as a -_trifling, affected witticism_. This _censure_ he hopes entirely to -elude by shewing it was in use, more especially among two sorts of -persons, the least likely to be infected with _wrong taste_, the -_oldest_, that is to say, the _simplest_; and the most _refined_ -writers. In short, he thinks to stop all mouths by alledging instances -from _Homer_ and _Virgil_. - -But what if Homer and Virgil in the few examples of this kind to be met -with in their writings have _erred_? And, which is more, what if that -very _simplicity_ on the one hand, and _refinement_ on the other, which -he builds so much upon, can be shewn to be the _natural_ and almost -necessary _occasions_ of their falling into such _errors_? This, I am -persuaded, was the truth of the case. For, - -1. In the _simpler ages of learning_, when, as yet, composition is -not turned into an _art_, but every writer, especially of vehement -and impetuous genius, is contented to put down his _first thoughts_, -and, for their _expression_, takes up with the most obvious words and -phrases, that present themselves to him, this improper construction -will not be unfrequent. For the writer, who is not knowing enough to -take offence at these niceties, having an immediate occasion to express -_two things_, and finding _one word_, which, in common usage, at least -with a little straining, extends to _both_, he looks no further, but, -as suspecting no fault, employs it without scruple. And I am the more -confirmed in this account, from observing, that sometimes, where the -governing _verb_ cannot be made to bear this double sense, and yet the -meaning of the writer is clear enough from the context, the proper -word is altogether omitted. Of this kind are several of the _modes -of speaking_, alledged by the writer as instances of the _double -sense_. As in that of Sophocles[45], where Electra, giving orders to -Chrysothemis, about the disposal of the libations, destined for the -tomb of her father, delivers herself thus, - - ΑΛΛ’ ἢ ΠΝΟΑΙΣΙΝ, ἢ βαθυσκαφεῖ ΚΟΝΕΙ ΚΡΥΨΟΝ νιν. - -The writer’s first intention was to look out for some such _verb_, as -would equally correspond to πνοαῖς and κόνει, but this not occurring, -he sets down one, that only agrees to the last, and leaves the other to -be understood or supplied by the reader; as it easily might, the scope -of the place necessarily directing him to it. It cannot be supposed, -that Sophocles designed to say, κρύψον πνοαῖς. There is no affinity -of _sense_ or _sound_ to lead him to such construction. Again: in that -verse of Homer[46], ἽΠΠΟΙ ἀερσίποδες, καὶ ποικίλα ΤΕΥΧΕ’ ΕΚΕΙΤΟ, the -poet never meant to say ἵπποι ἔκειντο, but neglectingly left it thus, -as trusting the nature of the thing would instruct the reader to supply -ἔστασαν, or some such word, expressive of the _posture_ required. - -Nay, writers of more exactness than these simple Greek poets have -occasionally overlooked such inaccuracies: as Cicero[47], who, when -more intent on his _argument_, than _expression_, lets fall this -impropriety; _Nec vero_ SUPRA TERRAM, _sed etiam_ IN INTIMIS EJUS -TENEBRIS _plurimarum rerum_ LATET _utilitas_. ’Tis plain, the writer, -conceiving _extat_, _patet_, or some such word, to be necessarily -suggested by the tenor of his sentence, never troubled himself to go -back to insert it. Yet these are brought as examples of the _double -application of single words_. The truth is, they are examples of -_indiligence_ in the writers, and as such, may shew us, how easily -they might fall, for the same reason, into the impropriety of _double -senses_. In those of this class then the impropriety, complained of, is -the effect of mere _inattention or carelessness_. - -2. On the other hand, when this negligent simplicity of _thinking and -speaking_ gives way to the utmost polish and refinement in _both_, we -are then to expect it, for the contrary reason. For the more obvious -and natural forms of writing being, now, grown common, are held -insipid, and the public taste demands to be gratified by the seasoning -of a more studied and artificial expression. It is not enough to -_please_, the writer must find means to _strike_ and _surprize_. And -hence the _antithesis_, the _remote allusion_, and every other mode -of _affected eloquence_. But of these the _first_ that prevails, is -the application of the _double sense_. For the general use justifying -it, it easily passes with the reader and writer too, for _natural_ -expression; and yet as splitting the attention suddenly, and at once, -on two different views, carries with it all the novelty and surprize, -that are wanted. When the public taste is not, yet, far gone in this -refinement, and the writer hath himself the truest taste (which was -VIRGIL’S case) such affectations will not be very common; or, when -they do occur, will, for the most part, be agreeably softened. As in -the instance of _retroque pedem cum voce repressit_; where, by making -_voce_ immediately dependent on the _preposition_, and remotely on the -_verb_, he softens the harshness of the expression, which seems much -more tolerable in this form, than if he had put it, _pedem vocemque -repressit_. So again in the line, - - _Crudeles aras trajectaque pectora ferro - Nudavit,_ - -the incongruity of _the two senses_ in _nudavit_, is the less perceived -from its _metaphorical application_ to _one_ of them. - -But the desire of _pleasing continually_, which, in the circumstance -supposed, insensibly grows into a _habit_, must, of necessity, betray -writers of less taste and exactness into the frequent commission of -this fault. Which, as Mr. Addison takes notice, was remarkably the case -with OVID. - -The purpose of all this is to shew, that the use of this _form of -speaking_ arose from _negligence_, or _affectation_, never from -_judgment_. And such being the obvious, and, it is presumed, true -account of the matter, the learned _Animadvertor_ on CHARITON is left, -as I said, to make the best of his _authorities_; or, even to enlarge -his list of them with the _Centuries_[48] of his good friends, at -his leisure. For till he can tell us of a writer, who, neither in -_careless_, nor _ambitious_ humours, is capable of this folly, his -accumulated citations, were they more to his purpose, than many of -them are, will do him little service. Unless perhaps we are to give up -common sense to authority, and pride ourselves on mimicking the very -defects of our _betters_. And even here he need not be at a loss for -_precedents_. For so the disciples of Plato, we are told, in former -times, affected to be _round-shouldered_, in compliment to their -master; and Aristotle’s worshipers, because of a natural impediment -in this philosopher’s speech, thought it to their credit to turn -_Stammerers_. And without doubt, while this fashion prevailed, there -were critics, who found out a _Je ne sçai quoi_ in the _air_ of the one -party, and in the _eloquence_ of the other. - - * * * * * - -97. SUSPENDIT PICTA VULTUM MENTEMQUE TABELLA;] Horace judiciously -describes _painting_ by that peculiar circumstance, which does most -honour to this fine art. It is, that, in the hands of a master, -it attaches, not the _eyes_ only, but the very _soul_, to its -representation of the _human affections and manners_. For it is in -contemplating _subjects_ of this kind, that the mind, with a fond and -eager attention, _hangs_ on the picture. Other imitations may _please_, -but this warms and transports with _passion_. And, because whatever -addresses itself immediately to the _eye_, affects us most; hence it -is, that painting, so employed, becomes more efficacious to express -the _manners_ and imprint _characters_, than poetry itself: or rather, -hath the advantages of the best and usefullest species of poetry, the -_dramatic_, when enforced by just action on the stage. - -Quintilian gives it the like preference to _Oratory_. Speaking of the -use of _action_ in an orator, he observes, “Is [gestus] quantum habeat -in oratore, momenti; satis vel ex eo patet, quod pleraque, etiam citra -verba, significat. Quippe non manus solum, sed nutus etiam declarant -nostram voluntatem, et in mutis pro sermone sunt: et salutatio -frequenter sine voce intelligitur atque afficit, et ex ingressu -vultuque perspicitur habitus animorum: et animantium quoque, sermone -carentium, ira, laetitia, adulatio, et oculis et quibusdam aliis -corporis signis deprehenditur. Nec mirum, si ista, quae tamen aliquo -sunt posita motu, tantum in animis valent: quum _pictura, tacens opus, -et habitûs semper ejusdem, sic intimos penetret affectus, ut ipsam vim -dicendi nonnunquam superare videatur_[49].” - -We see then of what importance it is, since _affections_ of every kind -are equally within his power, that the painter apply himself to excite -only _those_, which are subservient to good morals. An importance, -of which Aristotle himself (who was no enthusiast in the fine arts) -was so sensible, that he gives it in charge, amongst other political -instructions, to the governors of youth, “that they allow them to -see no other pictures, than such as have this moral aim and tendency; -of which kind were more especially those of POLYGNOTUS.” [POLIT. lib. -viii. c. 5.] - -For the _manner_, in which this moral efficacy of picture is brought -about, we find it agreeably explained in that conversation of -_Socrates_ with _Parrhasius_ in the _Memorabilia_ of Xenophon. The -whole may be worth considering. - -“PAINTING, said Socrates, one day, in a conversation with the painter -Parrhasius, is, I think, the resemblance or imitation of sensible -objects. For you represent in colours, bodies of all sorts, _hollow and -projecting, bright and obscure, hard and soft, old and new_. “We do.” -And, when you would draw beautiful pourtraits, since it is not possible -to find any _single figure_ of a man, faultless in all its parts and of -exact proportion; your way is to collect, from _several_, those members -or features, which are most perfect in each, and so, by joining them -together, to compound one whole body, completely beautiful. “That is -our method.” What then, continued Socrates, and are you not able, also, -to imitate in colours, the MANNERS; those tendencies and dispositions -of the soul, which are benevolent, friendly, and amiable; such as -inspire love and affection into the heart, and whose soft insinuations -carry with them the power of persuasion? - -“How, replied Parrhasius, can the pencil imitate _that_, which hath no -proportion, colour, or any other of those properties, you have been -just now enumerating, as the objects of sight?” Why, is it not true, -returned Socrates, that a man sometimes casts a _kind_, sometimes, an -_angry_, look on others? “It is.” There must then be something in the -eyes capable of expressing those passions. “There must.” And is there -not a wide difference between the look of him, who takes part in the -prosperity of a friend, and another, who sympathizes with him in his -sorrows? “Undoubtedly, there is the widest. The countenance, in the one -case, expresses joy, in the other, concern.” These affections may then -be represented in picture. “They may so.” In like manner, all other -dispositions of our nature, _the lofty and the liberal, the abject -and ungenerous, the temperate and the prudent, the petulant and -profligate_, these are severally discernible by the _look or attitude_: -and that, whether we observe men in _action_, or at _rest_. “They are.” -And these, therefore, come within the power of graphical imitation? -“They do.” Which then, concluded Socrates, do you believe, men take -the greatest pleasure in contemplating; such imitations, as set before -them the GOOD, the LOVELY, and the FAIR, of those, which represent the -BAD, the HATEFUL, and the UGLY, _qualities and affections of humanity_? -There can be no doubt, said Parrhasius, of their giving the preference -to the former.” [Lib. iii.] - -The conclusion, the _philosopher_ drives at in this conversation, and -which the _painter_ readily concedes to him, is what, I am persuaded, -every master of the art would be willing to act upon, were he at -liberty to pursue the bent of his natural genius and inclination. But -it unfortunately happens, to the infinite prejudice of this _mode of -imitation_, above all others, that the artist _designs_ not so much -what the dignity of his profession requires of him, or the general -taste of those, he would most wish for his judges, approves; as -what the rich or noble _Connoisseur_, who _bespeaks_ his work, and -prescribes the subject, demands. What this has usually been, let the -history of ancient and modern painting declare[50]. Yet, considering -its vast power in MORALS, as explained above, one cannot enough lament -the ill destiny of this divine ART; which, from the chaste hand-maid -of _virtue_, hath been debauched, in violence to her nature, to a -shameless prostitute of _vice_, and procuress of _pleasure_. - - * * * * * - -117. SCRIBIMUS INDOCTI DOCTIQUE POEMATA PASSIM.] The DOCTI POETAE have -at all times been esteemed by the wise and good, or, rather, have been -reverenced, as Plato speaks, ὥσπερ πατέρες τῆς σοφίας καὶ ἡγεμόνες. - -As for the INDOCTI, we may take their character as drawn by the severe, -but just pen of our great Milton—“Poetas equidem verè doctos et diligo -et colo et audiendo saepissimè delector—istos verò versiculorum -nugivendos quis non oderit? quo genere nihil stultius aut vanius -aut corruptius, aut mendacius. Laudant, vituperant, sine delectu, -sine discrimine, judicio aut modo, nunc principes, nunc plebeios, -doctos juxta atque indoctos, probos an improbos perindè habent; prout -cantharus, aut spes nummuli, aut fatuus ille furor inflat ac rapit; -congestis undique et verborum et rerum tot discoloribus ineptiis tamque -putidis, ut laudatum longè praestet sileri, et pravo, quod aiunt, -vivere naso, quàm sic laudari: vituperatus verò qui sit, haud mediocri -sanè honori sibi ducat, se tam absurdis, tam stolidis nebulonibus -displicere.” DEF. SECUND. PRO POP. ANG. p. 337. 4^{to} Lond. 1753. - - * * * * * - -118. HIC ERROR TAMEN, &c.] What follows from hence to v. 136, -containing an encomium on _the office of poets_, is one of the leading -beauties in the epistle. Its artifice consists in this, that, under the -cover of a negligent commendation, interspersed with even some _traits_ -of pleasantry upon them, it insinuates to the emperor, in the manner -the least offensive and ostentatious, the genuin merits, and even -_sacredness_ of their character. The whole is a fine instance of that -address, which, in delivering rules for this kind of writing, the poet -prescribes elsewhere. - - _Et sermone opus est modo tristi, saepe jocoso, - Defendente vicem modo Rhetoris atque Poetae; - Interdum_ URBANI PARCENTIS VIRIBUS ATQUE - EXTENUANTIS EAS CONSULTO. - [1 S. x. 14.] - -This conduct, in the place before us, shews the poet’s exquisite -knowledge of _human nature_. For there is no surer method of removing -prejudices, and gaining over _others_ to an esteem of any thing we -would recommend, than by not appearing to lay too great a stress on -it _ourselves_. It is, further, a proof of his intimate acquaintance -with the peculiar turn of the _great_; who, not being forward to think -highly of any thing but themselves and their own dignities, are, with -difficulty, brought to conceive of other accomplishments, as of much -value; and can only be won by the fair and candid address of their -apologist, who must be sure not to carry his praises and pretensions -too high. It is this art of entering into the _characters, prejudices, -and expectations_ of others, and of knowing to suit our application, -prudently, but with innocence, to them, which constitutes what we -call A KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. An art, of which the great poet was a -consummate master, and than which there cannot be a more useful or -amiable quality. Only we must take care not to confound it with that -supple, versatile, and intriguing genius, which, taking all shapes, -and reflecting all characters, generally passes for it in the commerce -of the world, or rather is prized much above it; but, as requiring -no other talents in the possessor than those of a _low cunning_ and -_corrupt design_, is of all others the most mischievous, worthless, and -contemptible character, that infests human life. - - * * * * * - -118. HIC ERROR TAMEN ET LEVIS HAEC INSANIA QUANTAS VIRTUTES HABEAT, SIC -COLLIGE:] This apology for _poets_, and, in them, for _poetry_ itself, -though delivered with much apparent negligence and unconcern, yet, if -considered, will be found to comprize in it every thing, that any, or -all, of its most zealous advocates have ever pretended in its behalf. -For it comprehends, - -I. [From v. 118 to 124,] THE PERSONAL GOOD QUALITIES OF THE POET. -Nothing is more insisted on by those, who take upon themselves the -patronage and recommendation of any _art_, than that it tends to -raise in the professor of it all those _virtues_, which contribute -most to his _own_ proper enjoyment, and render him most agreeable to -_others_. Now this, it seems, may be urged, on the side of _poetry_, -with a peculiar force. For not only the _study_ of this art hath -a _direct_ tendency to produce a neglect or disregard of _worldly -honours and emoluments_ (from the too eager appetite of which almost -all the _calamities_, as well as the more unfriendly _vices_, of men -arise) but he, whom the benign aspect of the muse hath glanced upon -and destined for her peculiar service, is, by _constitution_, which is -ever the best security, fortified against the attacks of them. Thus his -RAPTURES in the enjoyment of his muse make him overlook _the common -accidents of life_ [v. 121]; _he is generous, open, and undesigning, -by_ NATURE [v. 122]; to which we must not forget to add, that he is -_temperate_, that is to say, _poor_, by PROFESSION. - - VIVIT SILIQUIS ET PANE SECUNDO. - -II. [From v. 124 to 132.] THE UTILITY OF THE POET TO THE STATE: and -this both on a _civil_ and _moral_ account. For, 1. the poets, whom we -read in our younger years, and from whom we learn the _power of words_, -and _hidden harmony of numbers_, that is, as a profound Scotchman -teaches, the _first and most essential principles_ of eloquence[51], -enable, by degrees, and instruct their pupil to appear with advantage, -in that extensively useful capacity of a public speaker. And, indeed, -graver writers, than our poet, have sent the orator to this school. But -the pretensions of poetry go much farther. It delights [from v. 130 -to 132] to immortalize the triumphs of virtue: to _record_ or _feign_ -illustrious examples of heroic worth, for the service of the _rising -age_: and, which is the last and best fruit of philosophy itself, it -can relieve even the languor of _ill-health_, and sustain _poverty_ -herself under the scorn and insult of contumelious opulence. 2. In a -_moral_ view its services are not less considerable. (For it may be -observed the _poet_ was so far of a mind with the _philosopher_, to -give no quarter to _immoral_ poets). And to this end it serves, 1. -[v. 127] _in turning the ear of youth_ from that early corruptor of -its innocence, the seducement of a _loose and impure communication_. -2. Next [v. 128] in forming our riper age (which it does with all the -address and tenderness of _friendship_: AMICIS _praeceptis_) _by the -sanctity and wisdom of its precepts_. And, 3. which is the proper -office of _tragedy, in correcting the excesses of the natural passions_ -[v. 122]. The reader who doth not turn himself to the original, will be -apt to mistake this detail of the virtues of poetry, for an account of -the Policy and Legislation of ancient and modern times; whose proudest -boast, when the philanthropy of their enthusiastic projectors ran at -the highest, was but to _prevent the impressions of vice_: to _form the -mind to habits of virtue_: and _to curb and regulate the passions_. - -III. HIS SERVICES TO RELIGION. This might well enough be said, whether -by _religion_ we understand an _internal reverence_ of the Gods, which -poetry first and principally intended; or their _popular adoration -and worship_, which, by its _fictions_, as of necessity conforming to -the received fancies of superstition, it must greatly tend to promote -and establish. But the poet, artfully seizing a circumstance, which -supposes and includes in it both these respects, renders his defence -vastly interesting. - -All the customary _addresses_ of Heathenism to its gods, more -especially on any great and solemn emergency, were the work of the -poet. For _nature_, it seems, had taught the pagan world, what the -Hebrew Prophets themselves did not disdain to practice, that, to -lift the imagination, and, with it, the sluggish affections of human -nature, to Heaven, it was expedient to lay hold on every assistance -of art. They therefore presented their supplications to the Divinity -in the richest and brightest dress of eloquence, which is poetry. Not -to insist, that _devotion_, when sincere and ardent, from its very -_nature_, enkindles a glow of thought, which communicates strongly -with the transports of poetry. Hence _the language of the Gods_ (for -so was poetry accounted, as well from its being the divinest species -of communication, our rude conceptions can well frame even for -superior intelligencies, as for that it was the fittest vehicle of our -applications to them) became not the ornament only, but an _essential_ -in the ceremonial, of paganism. And this, together with an allusion to -_a form of public prayer_ (for such was his _secular ode_) composed -by himself, gives, at once, a grace and sublimity to this part of the -apology, which are perfectly inimitable. - -Thus hath the great poet, in the compass of a few lines, drawn together -a complete defence of his _art_. For what more could the warmest -admirer of poetry, or, because zeal is quickened by opposition, what -more could the vehement declaimer against Plato (who proscribed it), -urge in its behalf, than that it furnishes, to the poet himself, the -surest means of _solitary and social_ enjoyment: and further serves to -the most important CIVIL, MORAL, and RELIGIOUS purposes? - - * * * * * - -119.—VATIS AVARUS NON TEMERE EST ANIMUS:] There is an unlucky Italian -proverb, which says, _Chi ben scrive, non sara mai ricco_.—The true -reason, without doubt, is here given by the poet. - - * * * * * - -124. MILITIAE QUAMQUAM PIGER ET MALUS,] The observation has much grace, -as referring to himself, who had acquired no credit, as a soldier, in -the civil wars of his country.—We have an example of this misalliance -between the _poetic_ and _military_ character, recorded in the history -of our own civil wars, which may be just worth mentioning. Sir P. -Warwick, speaking of the famous Earl of _Newcastle_, observes—“his -edge had too much of the razor in it, for he had a tincture of a -romantic spirit, and had the misfortune to have somewhat of the Poet -in him; so as he chose Sir William Davenant, an eminent good poet, -and loyal gentleman, to be lieutenant-general of his ordnance. This -inclination of his own, and such kind of witty society (to be modest -in the expressions of it) diverted many councils, and lost many -opportunities, which the nature of that affair, this great man had now -entered into, required.” MEMOIRS, p. 235. - - * * * * * - -132. CASTIS CUM PUERIS, &c.] We have, before, taken notice, how -properly the poet, for the easier and more successful introduction of -his apology, assumed the person _urbani, parcentis viribus_. We see -him here, in _that_ of _Rhetoris atque Poetae_. For admonished, as it -were, by the rising dignity of his subject, which led him from the -_moral_, to speak of the _religious_ uses of poetry, he insensibly -drops the _badineur_, and takes an air, not of seriousness only, but -of solemnity. This change is made with _art_. For the attention is -carried from the uses of poetry, in _consoling the unhappy_, by the -easiest transition imaginable, to the still more solemn application of -it to the _offices of piety_. And its _use_ is, to impress on the mind -a stronger sense of the weight of the poet’s plea, than could have been -expected from a more direct and continued declamation. For this is the -constant and natural effect of knowing to pass from _gay_ to _severe_, -with grace and dignity. - - * * * * * - -169. SED HABET COMOEDIA TANTO PLUS ONERIS, QUANTO VENIAR MINUS.] -Tragedy, whose intention is to _affect_, may secure what is most -essential to its _kind_, though it fail in some minuter resemblances -of _nature_: Comedy, proposing for its main end _exact representation_, -is fundamentally defective, if it do not perfectly succeed in it. And -this explains the ground of the poet’s observation, that Comedy hath -_veniae minus_; for he is speaking of the draught of the _manners_ -only, in which respect a greater _indulgence_ is very deservedly -shewn to the tragic than comic writer. But though Tragedy hath thus -far the advantage, yet in another respect its laws are more severe -than those of Comedy; and that is in the conduct of the _fable_. It -may be asked then, which of the two dramas is, on the whole, most -difficult. To which the answer is decisive. For Tragedy, whose end is -the _Pathos_, produces it by _action_, while Comedy produces its end, -the _Humourous_, by _Character_. Now it is much more difficult to paint -manners, than to plan action; because _that_ requires the philosopher’s -knowledge of human nature; _this_, only the historian’s knowledge of -human events. - -It is true, in one sense, the _tragic_ muse has _veniae minus_; for -though grave and pleasant scenes may be indifferently represented, -or even mixed together, in comedy, yet, in tragedy, the serious and -solemn air must prevail throughout. Indeed, our Shakespear has violated -this rule, as he hath, upon occasion, almost every other rule, of just -criticism: Whence, some writers, taking advantage of that idolatrous -admiration which is generally professed for this great poet, and -nauseating, I suppose, the more common, though juster, forms of -literary composition, have been for turning his very transgression -of the principles of common sense, into a standing precept for the -stage. “It is said, that, if comedy may be wholly _serious_, why may -not tragedy now and then be indulged in being _gay_?” If these critics -be in earnest in putting this question, they need not wait long for -an answer. The _end_ of comedy being _to paint the manners_, nothing -hinders (as I have shewn at large in the dissertation _on the provinces -of the drama_) but “that it may take either character of _pleasant_ -or _serious_, as it chances, or even unite them both in one piece:” -But the end of tragedy being _to excite the stronger passions_, this -discordancy in the subject breaks the flow of those passions, and -so prevents, or lessens at least, the very effect which this drama -primarily intends. “It is said, indeed, that this contrast of _grave_ -and _pleasant_ scenes, heightens the _passion_:” if it had been said -that it heightens the _surprize_, the observation had been more just. -Lastly, “we are told, that this is nature, which generally blends -together the _ludicrous_, and the _sublime_.” But who does not know - - _That art is nature to advantage dress’d_; - -and that to dress out nature to _advantage_ in the present instance, -that is, in a composition whose laws are to be deduced from the -consideration of its _end_, these characters are to be kept by an -artist, perfectly distinct? - -However this restraint upon tragedy does not prove that, upon the -whole, it has _plus oneris_. All I can allow, is, that either drama has -_weight_ enough in all reason, for the ablest _shoulders_ to sustain. - - * * * * * - -177. QUEM TULIT AD SCENAM VENTOSO GLORIA CURRU, EXANIMAT LENTUS -SPECTATOR, &c. to v. 182.] There is an exquisite spirit of pleasantry -in these lines, which hath quite evaporated in the hands of the -critics. These have gravely supposed them to come from the _person_ -of the _poet_, and to contain his serious censure of the vanity of -poetic fame. Whereas, besides the manifest absurdity of the thing, its -inconsistency with what is delivered elsewhere on this subject [A. -P. v. 324.] where the Greeks are commended as being _praeter laudem -nullius avari_, absolutely requires us to understand them as proceeding -from an _objector_; who, as the poet hath very satirically contrived, -is left to expose himself in the very terms of his _objection_. He had -just been blaming the venality of the Roman dramatic writers. They -had shewn themselves more sollicitous about _filling their pockets_, -than deserving the reputation of good poets. And, instead of insisting -further on the excellency of this _latter_ motive, he stops short, and -brings in a bad poet himself to laugh at it. - -“And what then, says he, you would have us yield ourselves to the very -wind and gust of praise; and, dropping all inferior considerations, -drive away to the expecting stage in the _puffed car of vain-glory_? -For what? To be _dispirited_, or blown up with air, as the capricious -spectator shall think fit to enforce, or withhold, his _inspirations_. -And is this the mighty benefit of your vaunted passion for fame? No; -farewel the stage, if the breath of others is _that_, on which the -silly bard is to depend for the contraction or enlargement of his -dimensions.” To all which convincing rhetoric the poet condescends to -say nothing; as well knowing, that no truer service is, oftentimes, -done to virtue or good sense, than when a knave or fool is left to -himself, to employ his idle raillery against either. - -These interlocutory passages, laying open the sentiments of those -against whom the poet is disputing, are very frequent in the _critical -and moral_ writings of Horace, and are well suited to their dramatic -genius and original. - - * * * * * - -210. ILLE PER EXTENTUM FUNEM, &c.] The Romans, who were immoderately -addicted to spectacles of every kind, had in particular esteem the -_funambuli_, or _rope-dancers_; - - _Ita populus studio stupidus in_ FUNAMBULO - _Animum occuparat._ - PROL. in HECYR. - -From the admiration of whose tricks the expression, _ire per extentum -funem_, came to denote, proverbially, _an uncommon degree of excellence -and perfection in any thing_. The allusion is, here, made with much -pleasantry, as the poet had just been rallying their fondness for these -_extraordinary atchievements_. - - * * * * * - -Ibid. ILLE PER EXTENTUM FUNEM, &c. to v. 214.] It is observable, that -Horace, here, makes his own _feeling_ the test of poetical merit. -Which is said with a philosophical exactness. For the _pathos_ in -tragic, _humour_ in comic, and the same holds of the _sublime_ in the -narrative, and of every other _species_ of excellence in universal -poetry, is the object, not of _reason_, but _sentiment_; and can -be estimated only from its _impression_ on the mind, not by any -speculative or general _rules_. Rules themselves are indeed nothing -else but an appeal to _experience_; conclusions drawn from wide and -general observation of the aptness and efficacy of certain _means_ to -produce those _impressions_. So that feeling or sentiment itself is not -only the surest, but the sole _ultimate_ arbiter of works of genius. - -Yet, though this be true, the _invention_ of _general rules_ is not -without its merit, nor the _application_ of them without its _use_, as -may appear from the following considerations. - -It may be affirmed, universally, of all _didactic writing_, that it is -employed in _referring particular facts to general principles_. General -principles themselves can often be referred to others more general; and -these again carried still higher, till we come to a _single_ principle, -in which all the rest are involved. When this is done, science of -every kind hath attained its highest perfection. - -The account, here given, might be illustrated from various instances. -But it will be sufficient to confine ourselves to the single one of -_criticism_; by which I understand that _species_ of didactic writing, -which _refers to general rules the virtues and faults of composition_. -And the perfection of this _art_ would consist in an ability to refer -_every_ beauty and blemish to a separate class; and _every_ class, by -a gradual progression, to some _one_ single principle. But the _art_ -is, as yet, far short of perfection. For many of these beauties and -blemishes can be referred to no general rule at all; and the rules, -which have been discovered, seem many of them unconnected, and not -reducible to a common principle. It must be admitted however that such -critics are employed in their proper office, as contribute to the -_confirmation_ of rules already established, or the _invention_ of new -ones. - -Rules already established are then _confirmed_, when more _particulars_ -are referred to them. The invention of _new_ rules implies, 1. -A _collection_ of various particulars, not yet regulated. 2. A -_discovery_ of those circumstances of _resemblance_ or _agreement_, -whereby they become capable of being regulated. And 3. A subsequent -_regulation_ of them, or arrangement into _one_ class according to -_such_ circumstances of _agreement_. When this is done, the rule is -completed. But if the critic is not able to observe any _common_ -circumstance of resemblance in the several particulars he hath -collected, by which they may, all of them, be referred to one general -class, he hath then made no advancement in the _art of criticism_. Yet -the collection of his particular observations may be of use to other -critics; just as collections of natural history, though no part of -philosophy, may yet assist philosophical inquirers. - -We see then from this general view of the matter, that the _merit_ of -inventing _general rules_ consists in reducing criticism to an _art_; -and that the _use_ of applying them, in practice, when the art is thus -formed, is, to direct the caprices of _taste_ by the authority of rule, -which we call _reason_. - -And, thus much being premised, we shall now be able to form a proper -judgment of the _method_, which some of the most admired of the -ancients, as well as moderns, have taken in this _work of criticizing_. -The most eminent, at least the most popular, are, perhaps, Longinus, -of the Greeks; P. Bouhours, of the French; and Mr. Addison, with us in -England. - -1. _All_ the beautiful passages, which LONGINUS cites, are referred by -him to _five_ general classes. And 2dly, These general classes belong -all to the _common_ principle of _sublimity_. He does not say this -passage is _excellent_, but assigns the _kind_ of excellence, _viz._ -_sublimity_. Neither does he content himself with the general notion of -_sublimity_, but names the _species_, viz. _Grandeur_ of _sentiment_, -power of moving the _passions_, &c. His work therefore enables us to -_class_ our perceptions of excellence, and consequently is formed on -the _true plan_ of criticism. - -2. The same may be observed of P. BOUHOURS. The passages, cited by him, -are never mentioned in _general_ terms as _good_ or _bad_: but are -instances of good or bad _sentiment_. This is the _genus_, in which -_all_ his instances are comprehended: but of this genus he marks also -the distinct _species_. He does not say, this sentiment is _good_; -but it is _sublime_, or _natural_, or _beautiful_, or _delicate_: or, -that another sentiment is _bad_; but that it is _mean_, or _false_, -or _deformed_, or _affected_. To these several classes he refers his -particular instances: and these classes themselves are referred to the -more comprehensive principles of the excellence or fault of _single -sentiment_, as opposed to the various _other_ excellencies and faults, -which are observed in composition. - -3. Mr. ADDISON, in his _criticism on Milton_, proceeded in like manner. -For, _first_, these remarks are evidently applicable to the general -observations on the poem; in which every thing is referred to the -common heads of _fable_, _morals_, _sentiments_, and _language_; and -even the _specific_ excellencies and faults considered under each head -distinctly marked out. _Secondly_, The same is true concerning _many_ -of the observations on particular passages. The reader is not only -told, that a passage _has_ merit; but is informed what _sort_ of merit -belongs to it. - -Neither are the remaining observations wholly without use. For such -particular beauties and blemishes, as are barely _collected_, may -yet serve as a foundation to future inquirers for making further -discoveries. They may be considered as so many _single_ facts, an -_attention_ to which is excited by the authority of the critic; and -when these are considered jointly with such as _others_ may have -observed, those general principles of _similitude_ may at length be -found, which shall enable us to constitute _new_ classes of poetical -merit or blame. - -Thus far the candid reader may go in apologizing for the _merits_ -of these writers. But, as, in sound criticism, candour must not be -indulged at the expence of _justice_, I think myself obliged to add -an observation concerning their _defects_; and _that_, on what I must -think the just principles here delivered. - -Though the method, taken by these writers, be _scientifical_, the real -service they have done to criticism, is not very considerable. And the -reason is, they dwell too much in _generals_: that is, not only the -_genus_ to which they refer their _species_ is too large, but those very -subordinate species themselves are too comprehensive. - -Of the _three_ critics, under consideration, the most instructive is, -unquestionably, _Longinus_. The _genus_ itself, under which he ranks -his several _classes_, is as _particular_ as the species of the other -two. Yet even _his_ classes are much too general to convey my very -distinct and useful information. It had been still better, if this fine -critic had descended to lower and more minute _particularities_, as -subordinate to _each class_. For to observe of any _sentiment_, that it -is _grand_, or _pathetic_, and so of the other _species_, of sublime, -is saying very little. Few readers want to be informed of this. It had -been sufficient, if any notice was to be taken at all of so _general_ -beauties, to have done it in the way, which some of the best critics -have taken, of merely pointing to them. But could he have discovered -and produced to observation those _peculiar_ qualities in _sentiment_, -which occasion the impression of _grandeur, pathos, &c._ this had -been advancing the science of criticism very much, as tending to lay -open the more secret and hidden springs of that _pleasure_, which -results from poetical composition. - -_P. Bouhours_, as I observed, is still more faulty. His very _species_ -are so large, as make his criticism almost wholly useless and -insignificant. - -It gives one pain to refuse to such a writer as Mr. _Addison_ any -_kind_ of merit, which he appears to have valued himself upon, and -which the generality of his readers have seemed willing to allow him. -Yet it must not be dissembled, that _criticism_ was by no means his -talent. His taste was truly elegant; but he had neither that vigour -of understanding, nor chastised, philosophical spirit, which are so -essential to this character, and which we find in hardly any of the -ancients besides Aristotle, and but in a very few of the moderns. For -what concerns his _criticism on Milton_ in particular, there was this -accidental benefit arising from it, that it occasioned an admirable -poet to be read, and his excellencies to be observed. But for the merit -of the work itself, if there be any thing just in the _plan_, it was, -because Aristotle and Bossu had taken the same route before him. And -as to his _own_ proper observations, they are for the most part, so -general and indeterminate, as to afford but little instruction to the -reader, and are, not unfrequently, altogether frivolous. They are of a -kind with those, in which the French critics (for I had rather instance -in the defects of _foreign_ writers than of our _own_) so much abound; -and which good judges agree to rank in the worst sort of criticism. To -give one example for all. - -Cardinal PERRON, taking occasion to commend certain pieces of the poet -RONSARD, chuses to deliver himself in the following manner: “Prenez de -lui quelque poëme que ce soit, il paye toujours son lecteur, et quand -la verve le prend, il se guinde en haut, il vous porte jusques dans les -nuës, il vous fait voir mille belles choses. - -“Que ses _saisons_ sont _bien-faites_! Que la description de la lyre a -Bertaut est _admirable_! Que le discours au ministre, _excellent_! Tous -ses hymnes sont _beaux_. Celui de l’eternité est _admirable_; ceux des -saisons _marveilleux_.” [Perroniana.] - -What now has the reader learned from this varied criticism, but -that his _Eminence_ was indeed very fond of his poet; and that he -esteemed these several pieces to be (what with less expence of words -he might, in one breath, have called them) _well-turned_, _beautiful_, -_excellent_, _admirable_, _marvellous_, poems? To have given us the -true character of _each_, and to have marked the precise _degree_, as -well as _kind_, of merit in these works, had been a task of another -nature. - - * * * * * - -211.—QUI PECTUS INANITER ANGIT,] The word _inaniter_ as well as -_falsi_, applied in the following line to _terrores_, would express -that wondrous force of _dramatic representation_, which compels us -to take part in _feigned_ adventures and situations, as if they were -_real_; and exercises the passions with the same violence, in _remote -fancied scenes_, as in the _present distresses of real life_. - -And this is that sovereign quality in poetry, which, as an old writer -of our own naturally expresses it, is of force _to hold children from -play, and old men from the chimney corner_[52]. The poet, in the place -before us, considers it as a kind of _magic virtue_, which transports -the spectator into all _places_, and makes him, occasionally, assume -all _persons_. The resemblance holds, also, in this, that its effects -are instantaneous and irresistible. _Rules_, _art_, _decorum_, all fall -before it. It goes directly to the _heart_, and gains all purposes at -once. Hence it is, that, speaking of a real genius, possessed of this -commanding power, Horace pronounces him, emphatically, THE POET, - - _Ille per extentum funem mihi posse - videtur Ire_ POETA: - -it being more especially this property, which, of itself, discovers -the _true dramatist_, and secures the success of his performance, not -only without the assistance of _art_, but in direct opposition to its -clearest dictates. - -This power has been felt on a thousand other occasions. But its -triumphs were never more conspicuous, than in the famous instance of -the CID of P. Corneille; which, by the sole means of this enchanting -quality, drew along with it the affections and applauses of a whole -people: notwithstanding the manifest transgression of some essential -rules, the utmost tyranny of jealous power, and, what is more, in -defiance of all the authority and good sense of one of the justest -pieces of criticism in the French language, written purposely to -discredit and expose it. - - * * * * * - -224. CUM LAMENTAMUR NON ADPARERE LABORES NOSTROS, &c.] It was remarked -upon verse 211, that the beauties of a poem can only _appear_ by being -felt. And _they_, to whom they do not appear in this instance, are the -writer’s own _friends_, who, it is not to be supposed, would disguise -their _feelings_. So that the _lamentation_, here spoken of, is at once -a proof of _impertinence_ in the poet, and of the _badness_ of his -poetry, which sets the complainant in a very ridiculous light. - - * * * * * - -228. EGERE VETES.] The poet intended, in these words, a very just -satire on those presuming _wits and scholars_, who, under the pretence -of getting above distressful _want_, in reality aspire to public -honours and preferments; though this be the most inexcusable of all -follies (to give it the softest name), which can infest a man of -letters: Both, because experience, on which a wise man would chuse to -regulate himself, is contrary to these hopes; and, because if literary -merit could succeed in them, the _Reward_, as the poet speaks, - - _would either bring - No joy, or be destructive of the thing_: - -That is, the learned would either have no relish for the delights of -so widely different a situation; or, which hath oftener been the case, -would lose the learning itself, or the _love_ of it at least, on which -their pretensions to this _reward_ are founded. - - * * * * * - -232. GRATUS ALEXANDRO REGI MAGNO &c.] This praise of Augustus, -arising from the comparison of his character with that of Alexander, -is extremely fine. It had been observed of the Macedonian by his -historians and panegyrists, that, to the stern virtues of the -_conqueror_, he had joined the softer accomplishments of the -_virtuoso_, in a just discernment and love of _poetry_, and of the -_elegant arts_. The one was thought clear from his admiration and -study of Homer: And the _other_, from his famous edict concerning -Apelles and Lysippus, could not be denied. Horace finds means to turn -both these circumstances in his story to the advantage of his prince. - -From his extravagant pay of such a wretched versifier, as _Choerilus_, -he would insinuate, that Alexander’s love of the muse was, in fact, but -a blind unintelligent impulse towards _glory_. And from his greater -skill in the arts of _sculpture_ and _painting_, than of _verse_, he -represents him as more concerned about the _drawing_ of his figure, -than the pourtraiture of his _manners_ and _mind_. Whereas Augustus, -by his liberalities to _Varius_ and _Virgil_, had discovered the -truest taste in the _art_, from which he expected immortality: and, -in trusting to _that_, as the _chief_ instrument of his fame, had -confessed a prior regard to those _mental virtues_, which are the -real ornament of humanity, before that _look of terror_, and _air and -attitude of victory_, in which the brute violence of Alexander most -delighted to be shewn. - - * * * * * - -243. MUSARUM DONA] The expression is happy; as implying, that these -_images_ of virtue, which are represented as of such importance to the -glory of princes, are not the mere _offerings_ of poetry to greatness, -but the _free-gifts_ of the muse to the poet. For it is only to such -_works_, as these, that Horace attributes the wondrous efficacy of -expressing the _manners and mind_ in fuller and more durable relief, -than _sculpture_ gives to the _exterior figure_. - - _Non magis expressi vultus per aënea signa, - Quam per vatis opus mores animique virorum - Clarorum adparent._ - - * * * * * - -247.—VIRGILIUS.] Virgil is mentioned, in this place, simply as a -_Poet_. The precise idea of his _poetry_ is given us elsewhere. - - _molle atque facetum - Virgilio annuerunt gaudentes rure Camoenae._ - 1 Sat. x. 44. - -But this may appear a strange praise of the sweet and polished Virgil. -It appeared so to Quinctilian, who cites this passage, and explains it, -without doubt, very justly, yet in such a way as shews that he was not -quite certain of the truth of his explanation. - -The case, I believe, was this. The word _facetum_, which makes -the difficulty, had acquired, in Quinctilian’s days, the sense of -_pleasant_, _witty_, or _facetious_, _in exclusion_ to every other -idea, which had formerly belonged to it. It is true that, in the -Augustan age, and still earlier, _facetum_ was sometimes used in this -sense. But its proper and original meaning was no more than _exact_, -_factitatum, benè factum_. And in this strict sense, I believe, it is -always used by Horace. - - _Malthinus tunicis demissis ambulat: est qui - Inguen ad obscoenum subductis usque facetus._ - 1 S. ii. 25. - -i. e. _tucked up, trim, expedite_. - - _Mutatis tantùm pedibus numerisque facetus._ - 1 S. iv. 7. - -i. e. he [Lucilius] adopted a _stricter_ measure, than the writers -of the old comedy; or, by changing the loose iambic to the Hexameter -verse, he gave a proof of his _art_, _skill_, and _improved judgment_. - - _frater, pater, adde; - Ut cuique est aetas, ita quemque facetus adopta._ - 1. Ep. vi. 55. - -i. e. _nicely_ and _accurately_ adapt your address to the age and -condition of each. - -I do not recollect any other place where _facetus_ is used by Horace; -and in all these it seems probable to me that the principal idea, -conveyed by it, is that of _care_, _art_, _skill_, only differently -modified according to the subject to which it is applied: a gown tucked -up _with care_—a measure _studiously_ affected—an address _nicely_ -accommodated—No thought of _ridicule_ or _pleasantry_ intended. - -It is the same in the present instance— - - MOLLE ATQUE FACETUM - -i. e. _a soft flowing versification_, and _an exquisitely finished -expression_: the two precise, characteristic merits of Virgil’s _rural_ -poetry. - -This change, in the sense of words, is common in all languages, and -creeps in so gradually and imperceptibly as to elude the notice, -sometimes, of the best critics, even in their own language. The -transition of ideas, in the present instance, may be traced thus. -As what was _wittily_ said, was most _studied_, _artificial_, and -_exquisite_, hence in process of time _facetum_ lost its primary sense, -and came to signify merely, _witty_. - -We have a like example in our own language. A _good wit_ meant formerly -a man of good natural sense and understanding: but because what we now -call _wit_ was observed to be the flower and quintessence, as it were, -of good sense, hence _a man of wit_ is now the exclusive attribute of -one who exerts his good sense in that peculiar manner. - - * * * * * - -247. DILECTI TIBI VIRGILIUS &c.] It does honour to the memory of -Augustus, that he bore the _affection_, here spoken of, to this amiable -poet; who was not more distinguished from his contemporary writers -by the force of an original, inventive genius, than the singular -benevolence and humanity of his character. Yet there have been critics -of so perverse a turn, as to discover an inclination, at least, of -disputing both. - -1. Some have taken offence at his supposed unfriendly neglect of -Horace, who, on every occasion, shewed himself so ready to lavish all -his praises on him. But the folly of this slander is of a piece with -its malignity, as proceeding on the absurd fancy, that Virgil’s friends -might as easily have slid into such works, as the Georgics and Eneïs, -as those of Horace into the various occasional poems, which employed -his pen. - -Just such another senseless suspicion hath been raised of his jealousy -of Homer’s superior glory (a vice, from which the nature of the great -poet was singularly abhorrent), only, because he did not think fit to -give him the first place among the poets in _Elysium_, several hundred -years before he had so much as made his appearance upon _earth_. - -But these petty calumnies of his _moral_ character hardly deserve -a confutation. What some greater authorities have objected to his -_poetical_, may be thought more serious. For, - -2. It has been given out by some of better note among the moderns, and -from thence, according to the customary influence of authority, hath -become the prevailing sentiment of the generality of the learned, that -the great poet was more indebted for his fame to the _exactness of his -judgment; to his industry, and a certain trick of imitation_, than to -the energy of natural genius; which he is thought to have possessed in -a very slender degree. - -This charge is founded on the similitude, which all acknowledge, -betwixt his great work, the Aeneis, and the poems of Homer. But, “how -far such similitude infers imitation; or, how far imitation itself -infers an inferiority of natural genius in the imitator,” this hath -never been considered. In short the affair of _imitation_ in poetry, -though one of the most curious and interesting in all criticism, hath -been, hitherto, very little understood: as may appear from hence, -that there is not, as far as I can learn, one single treatise, now -extant, written purposely to explain it; the discourse, which the -learned _Menage_ intended, and which, doubtless, would have given -light to this matter, having never, as I know of, been made public. -To supply, in some measure, this loss, I have thought it not amiss to -put together and methodize a few reflexions of my own on this subject, -which (because the matter is large, and cannot easily be drawn into a -compass, that suits with the nature of these occasional remarks) the -reader will find in a distinct and separate dissertation upon it[53]. - - -CONCLUSION. - -AND, now, having explained, in the best manner I could, the two famous -Epistles of Horace to Augustus and the Pisos, it may be expected, in -conclusion, that I should say something of the rest of our poet’s -critical writings. For his _Sermones_ (under which general term I -include his _Epistles_) are of two sorts, MORAL and CRITICAL; and, -though both are exquisite, the _latter_ are perhaps, in their kind, -the more perfect of the two; his _moral_ principles being sometimes, I -believe, liable to exception, his _critical_, never. - -The two pieces, illustrated in these volumes, are _strictly_ critical: -the _first_, being a professed criticism of the Roman drama; and the -_last_, in order to their vindication, of the Roman poets. The rest of -his works, which turn upon this subject of criticism, may be rather -termed _Apologetical_. They are the IV^{th} and X^{th} of the FIRST, -and I^{st} of the SECOND book of Satires; and the XIX^{th} of the -FIRST, and, in part, the II^{d} of the SECOND book of Epistles. - -In _these_, the poet has THREE great objects; one or other of which he -never loses sight of, and generally he prosecutes them all together, -in the same piece. These objects are, 1. to vindicate the way of -writing in satire. 2. To justify his opinion of a favourite writer of -this class, the celebrated Lucilius. And 3. to expose the careless and -incorrect composition of the Roman writers. - -He was himself deeply concerned in these three articles; so that he -makes his own apology at the same time that he criticizes or censures -others. The _address_ of the poet’s manner will be seen by bearing in -mind this general purpose of his critical poetry. How he came to be -_engaged_ in this controversy, will best appear from a few observations -on the state of the Roman learning, when he undertook to contribute his -pains to the improvement of it. - -I have, in the introduction to the first of these volumes, given a -slight sketch of the rise and progress of the Roman satire. This poem, -was purely of Roman invention: _first of all_, struck out of the old -fescennine farce, and rudely cultivated, by Ennius: _Next_, more -happily treated, and enriched with the best part of the old comedy, -by Lucilius: And, after some succeeding essays, taken up and finally -adorned, by Horace. - -HORACE was well known to the public by his lyric compositions, and -still more perhaps by his favour at court, when he took upon him to -correct the manners and taste of his age, by his _Lucilian Satires_. -But, here, he encountered, at once, many prejudices; and all his own -credit, together with that of his court-friends, was little enough to -support him, against the torrent. - -FIRST, the kind of writing itself was sure to give offence. For, though -men were well enough pleased to have their natural malignity gratified -by an old poet’s satire against a _former_ age, yet they were naturally -alarmed at the exercise of this talent upon their _own_, and, as it -might chance, upon themselves. - -The poet’s eminence, and favour, would, besides, give a peculiar -force and _effect_ to his censures, so that all who found, or thought -themselves liable to them, were concerned, in interest, to discredit -the attempt, and blast his rising reputation. - - _Omnes hi metuunt versus, odere_ POETAM. - -Hence, he was constrained to stand upon his own defence, and to -vindicate, as well the thing itself, as his management of it, to the -tender and suspicious public. - -But this was not all: For, SECONDLY, an old satirist, of high birth -and quality, LUCILIUS, was considered, not only as an able writer of -this class, but as a perfect model in it; and of course, therefore, -this new satirist would be much decried and undervalued, on the -comparison. This circumstance obliged the poet to reduce this admired -writer to his real value; which could not be done without thwarting -the general admiration, and pointing out his vices and defects in the -freest manner. This perilous task he discharged in the IV^{th} satire -of his first book, and with such rigour of criticism, that not only the -partizans of Lucilius, in the poet’s own age, but the most knowing and -candid critics of succeeding times, were disposed to complain of it. -However, the obnoxious step had been taken; and nothing remained but to -justify himself, as he hath done at large, in his X^{th} satire. - -On the whole, in comparing what he has said in these two satires -with what Quinctilian long after observed on the subject of them, -there seems no reason to conclude, that the poet judged ill; though -he expressed his judgment in such terms as he would, no doubt, have -something softened (out of complaisance to the general sentiment, -and a becoming deference to the real merits of his master), if his -adversaries had been more moderate in urging their charge, or if the -occasion had not been so pressing. - -_Lastly_, this attack on Lucilius produced, or rather involved in -it, a THIRD quarrel. The poet’s main objection to Lucilius was his -careless, verbose, and hasty composition, which his admirers, no doubt, -called genius, grace, and strength. This being an inveterate folly -among his countrymen, he gives it no quarter. Through all his critical -works, he employs the utmost force of his wit and good sense to expose -it: And his own writings, being at the same time supremely correct, -afforded his enemies (which would provoke them still more) no advantage -against him. Yet they attempted, as they could, to repay his perpetual -reproaches on the popular writers for their neglect of _limae labor_, -by objecting to him, in their turn, that what he wrote was _sine -nervis_: and this, though they felt his _force_ themselves, and though -another set of men were complaining, at the same time, of his severity. - - _Sunt quibus in satyrâ videor nimis_ ACER— - SINE NERVIS _altera quicquid - Composui pars esse putat, similesque meorum_ - Mille die versus _deduci posse_— - -His detractors satirically alluding, in these last words, to his charge -against Lucilius— - - in horâ _saepè_ ducentos, - _Ut magnum_, versus _dictabat, stans pede in uno_. - -It is not my purpose, in this place, to enlarge further on the -character of Lucilius, whose _wordy_ satires gave occasion to our -poet’s criticism. Several of the ancient writers speak of him -occasionally, in terms of the highest applause; and without doubt, -he was a poet of distinguished merit. Yet it will hardly be thought, -at this day, that it could be any discredit to him to be censured, -rivalled, and excelled by Horace. - -What I have here put together is only to furnish the young reader with -the proper KEY to Horace’s critical works, which generally turn on his -own vindication, _against the enemies of satire_—_the admirers of -Lucilius_—_and the patrons of loose and incorrect composition_. - -In managing these several topics, he has found means to introduce -a great deal of exquisite criticism. And though his scattered -observations go but a little way towards making up a complete critical -system, yet they are so _luminous_, as the French speak, that is, they -are so replete with good sense, and extend so much further than to the -case to which they are immediately applied, that they furnish many of -the principles on which such a system, if ever it be taken in hand, -must be constructed: And, without carrying matters too far, we may -safely affirm of these _Critical Discourses_, that, next to Aristotle’s -immortal work, they are the most valuable remains of ancient art upon -this subject. - -_The End of the Notes on the Epistle to_ AUGUSTUS. - - * * * * * - -THE END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. - - - J. Nichols and Son, Printers, - Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London. - - - - -FOOTNOTES: - - -[1] [A Cross with the initials on a label—I. N. R. I. a Glory above, -and the motto below ΕΚ ΠΙΣΤΕΩΣ.] - -[2] “We, the Bishop and Dean and Chapter and Clergy of the Church and -Diocese of Worcester, humbly beg leave to present our dutiful respects -to your Majesty, and to express the joy we feel on your Majesty’s -arrival at this place. - -“Your presence, Sir, gladdens the hearts of your faithful subjects, -wherever you go. But We, the Clergy of this place, have a peculiar -cause to rejoice in the honour vouchsafed us at this time; a time, -devoted to an excellent charity for the relief of a most deserving, -though unfortunate part of our Order. This gracious notice and -countenance of us at such a moment, shews, as your whole life has -invariably done, your zealous concern for the interests of Religion, -and the credit of its Ministers. And we trust, Sir, that we entertain a -due sense of this goodness; and that we shall never be wanting in the -most dutiful attachment to your Majesty’s sacred person, to your august -house, and to your mild and beneficent government. - -“In our daily celebration of the sacred offices, committed to our -charge, we make it our fervent prayer to Almighty God, that He will -be pleased to take your Majesty into his special protection; and that -your Majesty may live long, very long, in health and honour, to be the -blessing and the delight of all your people.” - -[The above is the substance, and I believe the words, of my address to -the King at Worcester, 6th August 1788.] - -To this address his Majesty was pleased to return an answer, very -gracious, personally, to the Bishop himself, and expressive of the -highest regard for the Clergy of the Established Church. - - R. W. - -[3] [Edward Foley, Esq. Member of Parliament for the County, and -William Langford, D. D. late Prebendary of Worcester.] - -[4] The Reverend Mr. BUDWORTH, Head-Master of the Grammar School at -BREWOOD, in Staffordshire. He died in 1745. - -[5] Satyra hæc est in sui sæculi poetas, PRÆCIPUE vero in Romanum -drama. Baxter. - -[6] Præf. in LIB. POET. et l. vi. p. 338. - -[7] _Mærorem minui_, says Tully, grieving for the loss of his daughter, -_dolorem nec potui, nec, si possem_, VELLEM. [Ep. ad Att. xii. 28.] A -striking picture of real grief! - -[8] - - _Vel tibi composita cantetur_ EPISTOLA _voce_; - IGNOTUM HOC ALIIS ILLE NOVAVIT OPUS. - ART. AMAT. l. iii. v. 345. - -[9] J. Scaliger says, _Epistolas, Græcorum more, Phocylidæ atque -Theognidis_ [Horatius] _scripsit: præceptis philosophiæ divulsis -minimeque inter se cohærentibus_. And of _this_ Epistle, in particular, -he presumes to say, _De Arte quæres quid sentiam. Quid? Equidem quod de -Arte sine arte traditâ._ And to the same purpose another great Critic; -_Non solum antiquorum ὑποθῆκαι in moralibus hoc habuere, ut ἀκολουθίαν -non servarent, sed etiam alia de quibuscunque rebus præcepta. Sic -Epistola Horatii ad Pisones de Poëticâ perpetuum ordinem seriemque_ -NULLAM _habet; sed ab uno præcepto ad aliud transilit, quamvis_ NULLA -_sit materiæ affinitas ad sensum connectendum._ [Salmasii Not. in -Epictetum et Simplicium, p. 13. _Lugd. Bat._ 1640.] - -[10] See _Victor. Comm. in Dem. Phaler._ p. 73. _Florent._ 1594. - -[11] The reader may see a fine speech in the Cyropædia of Xenophon [l. -iv.] where not so much as this is observed. - -[12] See _Robert Stephens’s Fragm. Vet. Latinorum_. - -[13] Sir _Philip Sidney_. - -[14] _Quel avantage ne peut il [le poëte] pas tirer d’une troupe -d’acteurs, qui remplissent sa scene, qui rendent plus sensible la -continuité de l’action, et qui la font paroitre_ VRAISEMBLABLE, -_puisqu’il n’est pas naturel qu’elle se passe sans temoins. On ne sent -que trop le vuide de notre Théatre sans chœurs, &c._ [Le Théatre des -Grecs, vol. i. p. 105.] - -[15] See also to the same purpose P. Corneille’s _Exam. sur la Medée_. -If the objection, made by these critics, to the part of the chorus, be, -_the improbability_, as was explained at large in the preceding note, -_of a slave’s taking the side of virtue against the pleasure of his -tyrant_, the manifest difference of the two cases will shew it to be -without the least foundation. For 1. the chorus in the Medea consists -of women, whom compassion and a secret jealousy and indignation at so -flagrant an instance of the violated faith of marriage, attach, by -the most natural connexion of interests, to the cause and person of -the injured queen. In the Antigone, it is composed of old courtiers, -devoted, by an habitude of slavery, to the will of a master, assembled, -by his express appointment, as creatures of his tyranny, and, prompted, -by no strong movements of self-love, to take part against him. 2. In -the Antigone, the part of Creon is _principal_. Every step, in the -progress of the play, depends so immediately upon him, that he is -almost constantly upon the stage. No reflexions could therefore be made -by the chorus, nor any part against him be undertaken, but directly -in his presence, and at their own manifest hazard. The very reverse -of this is the case in the Medea. Creon is there but a subaltern -person—has a very small part assigned him in the conduct of the -play—is, in fact, introduced upon the stage but in one single scene. -The different situation of the chorus, resulting from hence, gives -occasion for the widest difference in their conduct. They may speak -their resentments freely. Unawed by the frowns and menaces of their -tyrant, they are left at liberty to follow the suggestions of virtue. -Nothing here offends against the law of probability, or, in the least, -contradicts the reasoning about the chorus in the Antigone. - -[16] See note on v. 127. - -[17] _For her own sake_, as is pleaded, _and in obedience to the laws_, - - Σέ τ’ ὠφελεῖν θέλουσα, καὶ νόμοις βροτῶν - Ξυλλαμβάνουσα, δρᾷν σ’ ἀπεννέπω τάδε. - v. 812. - -which shews, that the other murders were not against the spirit of the -laws, whatever became of the letter of them. - -[18] P. Brumoy, Disc. sur le parall. des Theat. p. 165. Amst. 1732. - -[19] _Imitations of Horace_ by Thomas Nevile, M. A. Fellow of Jesus -College, Cambridge, 1758. - -[20] There is a considerable difference in the copies of this ode, as -given us in the best editions of Athenæus and Diogenes Laertius. But -the SIXTH verse is, in all of them, so inexplicable, in respect of the -_measure_, the _construction_, and the _sense_, that I have no doubt -of its being extremely corrupt. In such a case one may be indulged in -making conjectures. And the following one, by a learned person, exactly -skilled in the proprieties as well as elegancies of the Greek language, -is so reasonable, that I had almost ventured to give it a place in the -text. - -The Poet had been celebrating v. 3. the divine _form_ of virtue; which -inspired the Grecian youth with an invincible courage and contempt of -danger. It was natural therefore to conclude his panegyric with some -such Epiphonema as this: “Such a passion do’st thou kindle up in the -minds of men!” - -To justify this passion, he next turns to the _fruits_, or advantages -which virtue yields; which, he tells us, are more excellent than those -we receive from any other possession, whether of _wealth_, _nobility_, -or _ease_, the three great idols of mankind. Something like this we -collect from the obscure glimmerings of sense that occur to us from the -common reading, - - Τοῖον ἐπὶ φρένα βάλλεις καρπόν τ’ εἰς ἀθάνατον, - Χρυσοῦ τε κρέσσω, &c. - -But it is plain, then, that a very material word must have dropt out of -the _first_ part of the line, and that there is an evident corruption -in the _last_. In a word, the whole passage may be reformed thus, - - Τοῖον ἐπὶ φρέν’ ἜΡΩΤΑ βάλλεις. - Καρπὸν ΦΕΡΕΙΣ ἀθάνατον - Χρυσοῦ τε κρέσσω καὶ γονέων, - Μαλακαυγητοῖό θ’ ὕπνου. - -It need not be observed how easily καρπὸν ΤΕΕΙΣ is changed into καρπὸν -ΦΕΡΕΙΣ: And as to the restored word ἔρωτα, besides the necessity of -it to complete the sense, it exactly suits with σοῖς τε πόθοις in v. -12. Lastly, the _measure_ will now sufficiently justify itself to the -learned reader. - -[21] _Agite, fugite, quatite, Satyri_: A verse cited from one of these -Latin satyrs by Marius Victorinus. - -[22] This, I think, must be the interpretation of _sensibus celebrem_, -supposing it to be the true reading. But a learned critic has shewn -with great appearance of reason, that the text is corrupt and should -be reformed into _sensibus_ CELEREM. According to which reading the -encomium here past on Pomponius must be understood of his _Wit_, and -not the gravity of his moral Sentences. Either way his title to the -honour of Invention is just the same.—See a Specimen of a new Edition -of Paterculus in BIBLIOTHEQUE BRITANNIQUE, _Juillet, &c._ 1736. - -[23] In the library of Emmanuel College, Cambridge. - -[24] Mr. Hume, OF SIMPLICITY AND REFINEMENT. - -[25] And no wonder, when, as Suetonius tells us, the emperor himself -was so delighted with the old comedy. [c. 89.] - -[26] This is further confirmed from Lucian, who, in the description -of a splendid feast in his ΑΛΕΚΤΡΥΩΝ, and in the _Symposium of his_ -ΛΑΠΙΘΑΙ, brings in the ΓΕΛΩΤΟΠΟΙΟΙ as necessary attendants on the -entertainment.—But the reader will not take what is said of the _fine -satyr_ of Xenophon’s Symposium, who hath not observed, that this -sort of compositions, which were in great credit with the ancients, -are of the nature of dramas, ΗΘΙΚΟΙ ΛΟΓΟΙ, as Aristotle would call -them. In which the dialogists, who are real personages as in the _old -comedy_, give a lively, and sometimes exaggerated expression of their -own characters. Under this _idea_ of a Symposium we are prepared to -expect _bad_ characters as well as _good_. Nothing in the _kind_ -of composition itself confined the writer to the _latter_; and the -decorum of a _festal conversation_, which, in a republic especially, -would have a mixture of satyr in it, seemed to demand the _former_. -We see then the undoubted purpose of Xenophon in the persons of his -JESTER and SYRACUSIAN; and of Plato, in those of ARISTOPHANES and some -others. Where we may further take notice, that, to prevent the abuse -and misconstruction, to which these personated discourses are ever -liable, Socrates is brought in to correct the looseness of them, in -both dialogues, and in some measure doth the office of the dramatic -chorus, BONIS FAVENDI. But it is the less strange that the moderns -have not apprehended the genius of these _Symposia_, when Athenæus, -who professedly criticises them, and one would think, had a better -opportunity of knowing their real character, hath betrayed the grossest -ignorance about them.—I can but just hint these things, which might -afford curious matter for a dissertation. But enough is said to let the -intelligent reader into the true secret of these _convivial dialogues_, -and to explane the ground of the encomium here passed upon _one_ of -them. - -[27] “L’étude égale des poëtes de différens tems à plaire à leurs -spectateurs, a encore influé dans la maniere de peindre les characters. -Ceux qui paroissent sur la scene Angloise, Espagnole, Françoise, sont -plus Anglois, Espagnols, ou François que Grecs ou Romains, en un mot -que ce qu’ils doivent être. Il ne faut qu’en peu discernement pour -s’appercevoir que nos Césars et nos Achilles, en gardant même une -partie de leur caractere primitif, prennent droit de naturalité dans le -païs où ils sont transplantez, semblables à ces portraits, qui sortent -de la main d’un peintre Flamand, Italien, ou François, et qui portent -l’empreinte du païs. On veut plaire à sa nation, et rien ne plait tant -que la resemblance de manieres et de genie.” [P. Brumoy, vol. i. p. -200.] - -[28] DIONYS. HALICARN. EP. AD C. POMP. p. 205. _Edit. Huds._ - -[29] In conformity with the _Antique_. _Nec enim Phidias, cum faceret -Jovis formam aut Minervæ, contemplabatur aliquem e quo similitudinem -duceret: sed ipsius in mente incidebat_ species pulchritudinis eximia -quædam, _quam intuens in eaque defixus ad illius similitudinem artem et -manum dirigebat_ [Cic. Orat. 2.] - -[30] Sir _William Temple_. - -[31] ἼΩΝ. - -[32] Pope’s Works, vol. V. p. 244. 8^{vo}. - -[33] Quinctilian, lib. xi. c. 1. - -[34] Θεῷ ἀνικήτῳ ἐπιγράψαντες. Though, to complete the farce, it was -with the greatest shyness and reluctance, that the humility of these -lords of the universe could permit itself to accept the ensigns of -deity, as the court-historians of those times are forward to inform -us. An affectation, which was thought to sit so well upon them, that -we find it afterwards practised, in the absurdest and most impudent -manner, by the worst of their successors. - -[35] See a learned and accurate dissertation on the subject in HIST. DE -L’ACAD. DES INSCR. &c. tom. i. - -[36] DIV. LEG. vol. i. B. ii. S. 4. - -[37] In these lines, - - _Mox tamen ardentes accingar dicere pugnas - Caesaris, et nomen famâ tot ferre per annos, - Tithoni primâ quot abest ab origine Caesar_. - -Which I suspect not to have been from the hand of Virgil. And, - -I. On account of some _peculiarities in the expression_. - -1. _Accingar_ is of frequent use in the best authors, to denote _a -readiness and resolution to do any thing_; but as joined with an -_infinitive mood_, _accingar dicere_, I do not remember to have ever seen -it. ’Tis often used by Virgil, but, if the several places be consulted, -it will always be found with an _accusative_ and _preposition_, -expressed, or understood, as _magicas accingier artes_, -or with an _accusative_ and _dative_, as _accingere se praedae_, or -lastly, with an _ablative_, expressing the _instrument_, as _accingor -ferro_. LA CERDA, in his notes upon the place, seemed sensible of the -objection, and therefore wrote, _Graeca locutio_: the common, but -paltry, shift of learned critics, when they determine, at any rate, to -support an ancient reading. - -2. _Ardentes pugnas_, _burning battles_, sounds well enough to a modern -ear, but I much doubt, if it would have passed in the times of Virgil. -At least, I recollect no such expression in all his works; _ardens_ -being constantly joined to a word, denoting a _substance_ of apparent -_light_, _heat_, or _flame_, to which the allusion is easy, as -_ardentes gladios_, _ardentes oculos_, _campos armis sublimibus ardentes_, -and, by an easy metaphor, _ardentes hostes_, but no where, that I can -find, to so _abstract_ a notion, as that of _fight_. It seems to be to -avoid this difficulty, that some have chosen to read _ardentis_, in the -_genitive_, which yet Servius rejects as of no authority. - -3. But the most glaring note of illegitimacy is in the line, - - _Tithoni primâ quot abest ab origine Caesar_. - -It has puzzled all the commentators from old Servius down to the -learned Mr. Martyn, to give any tolerable account of the poet’s choice -of _Tithonus_, from whom to derive the ancestry of Augustus, rather -than _Anchises_, or _Assaracus_, who were not only more famous, but -in the _direct_ line. The pretences of any or all of them are too -frivolous to make it necessary to spend a thought about them. The -instance stands single in antiquity: much less is there any thing like -it to be found in the Augustan poets. - -II. But the _phraseology_ of these lines is the least of my objection. -Were it ever so accurate, there is besides, on the first view, a -manifest absurdity in the _subject-matter_ of them. For would any -writer, of but common skill in the art of composition, close a long -and elaborate allegory, the principal grace of which consists in its -very mystery, with a cold, and formal explanation of it? Or would he -pay so poor a compliment to his patron, as to suppose his sagacity -wanted the assistance of this additional triplet to lead him into the -true meaning? Nothing can be more abhorrent from the usual address and -artifice of Virgil’s manner. Or, - -III. Were the _subject-matter_ itself passable, yet, how, in defiance -of all the laws of _disposition_, came it to be _forced_ in here? Let -the reader turn to the passage, and he will soon perceive, that this -could never be the _place_ for it. The allegory being concluded, the -poet returns to his subject, which is proposed in the six following -lines: - - _Intereà Dryadum sylvas, saltusque sequamur - Intactos, tua, Maecenas, haud mollia jussa; - Te sine nil altum mens inchoat: en age segnes - Rumpe moras; vocat ingenti clamore Cithaeron, - Taygetique canes, domitrixque Epidaurus equorum, - Et vox assensu nemorum ingeminata remugit_. - -Would now any one expect, that the poet, after having conducted the -reader, thus respectfully, to the very threshold of his subject, should -immediately run away again to the point, from which he had set out, and -this on so needless an errand, as the letting him into the secret of -his allegory? - -But this inserted triplet agrees as ill with what _follows_, as with -what _precedes_ it. For how abrupt is the transition, and unlike the -delicate connexion, so studiously contrived by the Augustan poets, from - - _Tithoni primâ quot abest ab origine Caesar_. - -to - - _Seu quis Olympiacae miratus praemia palmae_, &c. - -When omit but these interpolated lines, and see how gracefully, and by -how natural a succession of ideas, the poet slides into the main of his -subject.— - - _Intereà Dryadum silvas saltusque sequamur - Intactos— - Te sine nil— - Rumpe moras: vocat ingenti clamore Cithaeron - Taygetique canes, domitrixque Epidaurus_ EQUORUM, - _Et vox assensu nemorum ingeminata_ REMUGIT. - _Seu quis Olympiacae miratus praemia palmae - Pascit_ EQUOS; _seu quis fortes ad aratra_ JUVENCOS. - -On the whole, I have not the least doubt, that the lines before us -are the spurious offspring of some _later poet_; if indeed the writer -of them deserve that name; for, whoever he was, he is so far from -partaking of the original spirit of Virgil, that, at most he appears -to have been but a servile and paltry mimic of Ovid; from the opening -of whose Metamorphosis the design was clearly taken. The turn of -the thought is evidently the same in both, and even the expression. -_Mutatas dicere formas_ is echoed by _ardentes dicere pugnas_: _dicere -fert animus_, is, by an affected improvement, _accingar dicere_: and -_Tithoni primâ ab origine_ is almost literally the same as _primâque -ab origine mundi_. For the _insertion_ of these lines in this place, -I leave it to the curious to conjecture of it, as they may: but in -the mean time, must esteem the office of the true _critic_ to be so -far resembling that of the _poet_ himself, as, within some proper -limitations, to justify the _honest_ liberty here taken. - - _Cum tabulis animum censoris sumet honesti; - Audebit quaecunque parum splendoris habebunt - Et sine pondere erunt, et honore indigne feruntur_, - VERBA MOVERE LOCO; QUAMVIS INVITA RECEDANT, - ET VERSENTUR ADHUC INTRA PENETRALIA VESTAE. - [2 Ep. ii. 110.] - -[38] [B. ix. v. 641.] - -[39] _Notes on the story of Phaëton._ [v. 23.] - -[40] JACOBI PHILIPPI D’ ORVILLE _Animadversiones in_ CHARIT. APHROD. -lib. iv. c. 4. - -[41] Ibid. vol. ii. p. 325. - -[42] D. L. vol. ii. p. 644. - -[43] At inspiciamus porrò, quid alii, _quibus correctius sapit_, de hoc -loquendi modo CENSUERINT. Agnoscunt enim, etc. p. 299. - -[44] Ibid. - -[45] v. 437. - -[46] Iliad, Γ. 327. - -[47] N. D. ii. 64. - -[48] Pag. 397. - -[49] INST. ORAT. xi. 3. - -[50] There having been such wretches, as the Painter Plutarch speaks -of—Χαιρεφάνης, ἀκολάστους ὁμιλίας γυναικῶν πρὸς ἄνδρας. De aud. Poet. - -[51] See an essay on the _Composition of the Antients_, by J. GEDDES, -Esq. - -[52] Sir Philip Sidney. - -[53] Diss. III. vol. ii. - - - - -[Transcriber’s Note: - -Poetry line numbers normalized. - -All instances of a stigma (ϛ) in words have been changed to sigma tau (στ). - -The original text had an alternative pi (ϖ) at the start of a word. -These have been changed to the standard pi (π). - -Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.] - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Richard Hurd, Volume 1 -(of 8), by Richard Hurd - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF RICHARD HURD, VOL 1 *** - -***** This file should be named 52998-0.txt or 52998-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/9/9/52998/ - -Produced by Charlene Taylor, Wayne Hammond, Bryan Ness and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned -images of public domain material from the Google Books -project.) - -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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margin-left: 15em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i34 {display: block; margin-left: 17em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.caption {display: block; text-align: center} - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Richard Hurd, Volume 1 (of 8), by -Richard Hurd - -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: The Works of Richard Hurd, Volume 1 (of 8) - -Author: Richard Hurd - -Release Date: September 7, 2016 [EBook #52998] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF RICHARD HURD, VOL 1 *** - - - - -Produced by Charlene Taylor, Wayne Hammond, Bryan Ness and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned -images of public domain material from the Google Books -project.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<div class="transnote"> - -<h3>Transcriber’s Note:</h3> - -<p>This project uses utf-8 encoded characters. If some characters are -not readable, check your settings of your browser to ensure you have a -default font installed that can display utf-8 characters.</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_i">i</span></p> - -<h1> - -<small>THE</small><br /> - -WORKS<br /> - -<small>OF</small><br /> - -RICHARD HURD, D.D.<br /> - -<span class="large">LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER.</span><br /> - -<small>VOL. I.</small> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ii">ii</span></h1> - -<p class="copy">Printed by J. Nichols and Son,<br /> -Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">iii</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Right Reverend -RICHARD HURD, D. D. -Lord Bishop of Worcester.</p> - -<p class="table w100"> -<span class="tcell script">T. Gainsborough pinx.</span> -<span class="tcell tdr script">J. Hall sculp.</span> -</p> - -<p class="table"><span class="script">From the Original Picture in the Possession of her Majesty.</span></p> - -<p class="table script"><i>Published March 1<sup>st</sup>. 1811. by T. Cadell & W. Davies, Strand, London.</i> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">iv</span></p> -</div> - -<p class="ph1"> -<small>THE</small><br /> - -WORKS<br /> - -<small>OF</small><br /> - -RICHARD HURD, D. D.<br /> - -<span class="large">LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER.</span><br /> - -<small>IN EIGHT VOLUMES.<br /> - -VOL. I.</small><br /> - -<span class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/titlepage.png" alt="" /> -</span><br /> - -<span class="medium">LONDON:</span><br /> - -<span class="small table">PRINTED FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, STRAND.<br /> -1811.</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">v</span></p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">vi</span></p> - -<h2>DATES<br /> - -<span class="large">OF SOME OCCURRENCES</span><br /> - -<small>IN THE</small><br /> - -<span class="large">LIFE OF THE AUTHOR.</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">vii</span></h2> - -<p class="hang"><i>The following Particulars, in the Author’s -own hand-writing, and endorsed by him—“Some -Occurrences in my Life. R. W.”—were -found amongst his papers after his decease.</i></p> - -<h2>DATES<br /> - -<span class="medium"><i>Of some Occurrences in my own Life</i>.</span></h2> - -<p><span class="sidenote">A. D.</span><br /></p> - -<p> -<span class="sidenote">1719-20</span></p> - -<p>Richard Hurd was born at Congreve, -in the Parish of Penkrich, in the -County of Stafford, January 13, 1719-20.</p> - -<p>He was the second of three children, all -sons, of John and Hannah Hurd; plain, -honest, and good people; of whom he can -truly say with the poet—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Si natura juberet, &c.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>They rented a considerable farm at Congreve, -when he was born; but soon after -removed to a larger at Penford, about half -way between Brewood and Wolverhampton -in the same County. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">viii</span></p> - -<p>There being a good Grammar School at -Brewood, he was educated there under the -Reverend Mr. Hillman, and, upon his -death, under his successor, the Reverend -Mr. Budworth—both well qualified for -their office, and both very kind to him.</p> - -<p>Mr. Budworth had been Master of the -School at Rudgely; where he continued -two years after his election to Brewood, -while the School-house, which had been -much neglected, was repairing. He was -therefore sent to Rudgely immediately on -Mr. Budworth’s appointment to Brewood, -returned with him to this place, and continued -under his care, till he went to the -University.</p> - -<p>He must add one word more of his -<i>second</i> Master. He knew him well, when -he afterwards was of an age to judge of his -merits. He had been a scholar of the -famous Mr. Blackwell of Derby, and afterwards -bred at Christ’s College in Cambridge, -where he resided till he had taken -his M. A.’s degree. He understood Greek -and Latin well, and had a true taste of the -best writers in those languages. He was, -besides, a polite, well-bred man, and singularly -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">ix</span> -attentive to the <i>manners</i>, in every -sense of the word, of his scholars. He -had a warm sense of virtue and religion, -and enforced both with a natural and taking -eloquence. How happy, to have had -such a man, first, for his school-master, -and then for his friend.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1733</span></p> - -<p>Under so good direction, he was thought -fit for the University, and was accordingly -admitted in Emanuel College, in Cambridge, -October 3, 1733, -but did not go to reside there till a year or -two afterwards.</p> - -<p>In this college, he was happy in receiving -the countenance, and in being permitted -to attend the Lectures, of that excellent -Tutor, Mr. Henry Hubbard, although -he had been admitted under another person.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1738-9</span></p> - -<p>He took his B. A.’s degree in 1738-9.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1742</span></p> - -<p>He took his M. A.’s degree, and was -elected fellow in 1742.</p> - -<p>Was ordained Deacon, 13th of June that -year in St. Paul’s Cathedral, London, by -Dr. Jos. Butler, Bishop of Bristol and -Dean of St. Paul’s, on Letters Dimissory -from Dr. Gooch, Bishop of Norwich.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1744</span></p> - -<p>Was ordained Priest, 20 May 1744 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">x</span> -in the Chapel of Gonville and Caius College, -Cambridge, by the Bishop of Norwich, -Dr. Gooch.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1749</span></p> - -<p>He took his B. D.’s degree in 1749.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1750</span></p> - -<p>He published the same year Remarks on -Mr. Weston’s book on the <i>Rejection of -Heathen Miracles</i>, and his Commentary on -Horace’s <i>Ars Poetica</i>; which last book -introduced him to the acquaintance of Mr. -Warburton, by whose recommendation to -the Bishop of London, Dr. Sherlock, he -was appointed Whitehall Preacher in May -1750.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1751</span></p> - -<p>He published the Commentary on the -Epistle to Augustus in 1751.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1753</span></p> - -<p>—the new edition of both Comments, -with Dedication to Mr. Warburton, in 1753.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1755</span></p> - -<p>—the Dissertation on the Delicacy of -Friendship in 1755.</p> - -<p>His Father died Nov. 27 this year, æt. 70.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1757</span></p> - -<p>He published the Remarks on Hume’s -Natural History of Religion in 1757.</p> - -<p>Was instituted this year, Feb. 16, to the -Rectory of Thurcaston, in the County of -Leicester, on the presentation of Emanuel -College.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1759</span></p> - -<p>He published Moral and Political Dialogues 1759. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">xi</span></p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1762</span></p> - -<p>He had the Sine-cure Rectory of Folkton, -near Bridlington, Yorkshire, given him -by the Lord Chancellor (Earl of Northington) -on the recommendation of Mr. -Allen, of Prior Park, near Bath, November 2, 1762.</p> - -<p>He published the Letters on Chivalry -and Romance this year.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1763</span></p> - -<p>—Dialogues on Foreign Travel in 1763.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1764</span></p> - -<p>And Letter to Dr. Leland of Dublin in 1964.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1765</span></p> - -<p>He was made Preacher of Lincoln’s Inn, -on the recommendation of Mr. Charles -Yorke, &c. November 6, 1765.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1767</span></p> - -<p>Was collated to the Archdeaconry of -Gloucester, on the death of Dr. Geekie, by -the Bishop, August 27, 1767.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1768</span></p> - -<p>Was appointed to open the Lecture of -Bishop Warburton on Prophecy in 1768.</p> - -<p>He took the degree of D. D. at Cambridge -Commencement this year.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1772</span></p> - -<p>He published the Sermons on Prophecy -in 1772.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1773</span></p> - -<p>His Mother died Feb. 27, 1773, æt. 88.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1775</span></p> - -<p>He was consecrated Bishop of Lichfield -and Coventry, the 12th of February 1775.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1776</span></p> - -<p>He published the 1st Volume of Sermons -preached at Lincoln’s Inn, 1776. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xii">xii</span></p> - -<p>And was made Preceptor to the Prince -of Wales and his brother Prince Frederick, -the 5th of June the same year.</p> - -<p>Preached before the Lords, December -13, 1776, first Fast for the war.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1779</span></p> - -<p>He lost his old and best friend, Bishop -Warburton, June 7th, 1779.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1780</span></p> - -<p>He published the 2d and 3d Volumes of -Sermons in 1780.</p> - -<p>These three Volumes were published at -the desire of the Bench of Lincoln’s Inn.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1781</span></p> - -<p>He was elected Member of the Royal -Society of Gottingen, January 11, 1781.</p> - -<p>The Bishop of Winchester [Dr. Thomas] -died Tuesday, May 1, 1781. Received a -gracious letter from his Majesty the next -morning, by a special messenger from -Windsor, with the offer of the See of Worcester, -in the room of Bishop North, to be -translated to Winchester, and of the Clerkship -of the Closet, in the room of the late -Bishop of Winchester.</p> - -<p>On his arrival at Hartlebury Castle in -July that year, resolved to put the Castle -into complete order, and to build a Library, -which was much wanted. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiii">xiii</span></p> - -<p>The Library was finished in 1782 -<span class="sidenote">1782</span> -and furnished with a collection of books, -late Bishop Warburton’s, and ordered by -his Will to be sold, and the value given to -the Infirmary at Gloucester -<span class="sidenote">1783</span></p> - -<p>To these, other considerable additions have -been since made.</p> - -<p>Archbishop Cornwallis died in 1783.</p> - -<p>Had the offer of the Archbishoprick -from his Majesty, with many gracious expressions, -and pressed to accept it; but -humbly begged leave to decline it, as a -charge not suited to his temper and talents, -and much too heavy for him to sustain, especially -in these times.</p> - -<p>The King was pleased not to take offence -at this freedom, and then to enter with -him into some confidential conversation on -the subject. It was offered to the Bishop -of London, Dr. Lowth, and refused by -him, as was foreseen, on account of his -ill health. It was then given to Dr. -Moore, Bishop of Bangor.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1784</span></p> - -<p>Added a considerable number of books -to the new Library at Hartlebury in 1784.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1785</span></p> - -<p>Confirmed Prince Edward [their Majesties’ -4th son] in the Chapel of Windsor -Castle, May 14th, 1785. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiv">xiv</span></p> - -<p>Added more books to the Library this -year. And put the last hand (at least he -thinks so) to the Bishop of Gloucester’s -Life, to be prefixed to the new edition of -his works now in the press.</p> - -<p>Confirmed Princess Augusta [their Majesties’ -second daughter] in the Chapel of -Windsor Castle, Dec. the 24th this year.</p> - -<p>Preached in the Chapel the next day -(Christmas day) and administered the Sacrament -to their Majesties and the Princess -Royal and Princess Augusta.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1786</span></p> - -<p>Preached before the Lords the 30th of -January 1786.</p> - -<p>His Majesty was pleased this year to bestow -a prebend of Worcester [vacant by -the death of Dr. Young] on my Chaplain, -Mr. Kilvert.</p> - -<p>Preached before their Majesties and -Royal Family in the Chapel of Windsor -Castle, and administered the Sacrament -to them, on Christmas day 1786.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1788</span></p> - -<p>In the end of February this year, 1788, -was published in seven volumes 4to a complete -edition of the works of Bishop Warburton. -The <i>Life</i> is omitted for the present. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xv">xv</span></p> - -<p>March 13, 1788, a fine gold Medal was -this day given me by his Majesty at the -Queen’s House.</p> - -<p>The King’s head on one side. The Reverse -was taken from a Seal of mine<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">1</a>, which -his Majesty chanced to see, and approved.</p> - -<p>The Die was cut by Mr. Burch, and the -Medal designed for the annual Prize-Dissertation -on Theological Subjects in the -University of Gottingen.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote"><small>July 12.</small></span></p> - -<p>This summer the King came to Cheltenham -to drink the waters, and was attended -by the Queen, the Princess Royal, and the -Princesses Augusta and Elizabeth. They -arrived at Cheltenham in the evening of -Saturday July the 12th, -and resided in a -house of Earl Falconberg. From Cheltenham -they made excursions to several places -in Gloucestershire and Worcestershire, and -were every where received with joy by all -ranks of people.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote"><small>Aug. 2</small></span></p> - -<p>On Saturday, August the second, -They -were pleased to visit Hartlebury, at the -distance of thirty-three miles, or more. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvi">xvi</span> -The Duke of York came from London to -Cheltenham the day before, and was pleased -to come with them. They arrived at Hartlebury -at half an hour past eleven. Lord -Courtoun, Mr. Digby (the Queen’s Vice-Chamberlain), -Col. Gwin (one of the King’s -Equerries), the Countesses of Harcourt and -Courtoun, composed the suite. Their Majesties, -after seeing the House, breakfasted -in the Library; and, when they had reposed -themselves some time, walked into -the Garden, and took several turns on the -Terrases, especially the Green Terras in -the Chapel Garden. Here they shewed -themselves to an immense croud of people, -who flocked in from the neighbourhood, -and standing on the rising grounds in the -Park, saw, and were seen, to great advantage. -The day being extremely bright, -the shew was agreeable and striking. About -two o’clock, their Majesties, &c. returned -to Cheltenham.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote"><small>Aug. 5.</small></span></p> - -<p>On the Tuesday following, August the -fifth, their Majesties, with the three Princesses, -arrived at 8 o’clock in the evening at -the Bishop’s Palace in Worcester, to attend -the charitable meeting of the three Quires of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvii">xvii</span> -Worcester, Hereford, and Gloucester, for -the benefit of the widows and orphans of -the poorer Clergy of those Dioceses; which -had been fixed, in consequence of the signification -of the King’s intention to honour -that solemnity with his presence, for the -6th, 7th, and 8th of that month.</p> - -<p>The next morning a little before 10 -o’clock, the King was pleased to receive the -compliments of the Clergy. The Bishop, -in the name of himself, Dean and Chapter -and Clergy of the Church and Diocese, -addressed the King in the Great Hall, in -a short speech<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">2</a>, to which his Majesty was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xviii">xviii</span> -pleased to return a gracious answer. He -had then the honour to address the Queen -in a few words, to which a gracious reply -was made; and they had all the honour to -kiss the King’s and Queen’s hand.</p> - -<p>Soon after 10, the Corporation, by their -Recorder, the Earl of Coventry, addressed -and went through the same ceremony of kissing -the King’s hand. Then the King had a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xix">xix</span> -Levée in the Great Hall, which lasted till -11, when their Majesties, &c. walked -through the Court of the Palace to the Cathedral, -to attend divine Service and a Sermon. -The Apparitor General, 2 Sextons, -2 Virgers, and 8 Beadsmen, walked before -the King (as on great occasions they usually -do before the Bishop); the Lord in waiting -(Earl of Oxford) on the King’s right -hand, and the Bishop in his lawn on the -left. After the King, came the Queen and -Princesses, attended by the Countesses of -Pembroke and Harcourt (Ladies of the -Bed-chamber), and the Countess of Courtown, -and the rest of their Suite. At the -entrance of the Cathedral, their Majesties -were received by the Dean and Chapter in -their Surplices and hoods, and conducted to -the foot of the stairs leading to their seat -in a Gallery prepared and richly furnished -by the Stewards<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">3</a> for their use, at the bottom -of the Church near the West window.</p> - -<p>The same ceremony was observed the two -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xx">xx</span> -following days, on which they heard sacred -music, but without prayers or a sermon. -On the last day Aug. 8th, the King -was pleased to give £.200 to the charity: -and in the evening attended a concert in -the College Hall for the benefit of the -Stewards.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote"><small>Aug. 9</small></span></p> - -<p>On Saturday morning, Aug. 9th, -the King and Queen, &c. returned to Cheltenham.</p> - -<p>During their Majesties’ stay at the Palace, -they attended prayers in the Chapel -of the Palace every morning (except the -first, when the service was performed in -the Church) which were read by the -Bishop.</p> - -<p>The King at parting was pleased to put -into my hands for the poor of the City -£.50, and the Queen £.50 more; which -I desired the Mayor (Mr. Davis) to see -distributed amongst them in a proper -manner.</p> - -<p>The King also left £.300 in my hands -towards releasing the Debtors in the County -and City Jails.</p> - -<p>During the three days at Worcester, the -concourse of people of all ranks was immense, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxi">xxi</span> -and the joy universal. The weather -was uncommonly fine. And no accident -of any kind interrupted the mutual -satisfaction, which was given, and received, -on this occasion.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote"><small>Aug. 16</small></span></p> - -<p>On Saturday, August 16, the King and -Royal Family left Cheltenham, and returned -that evening to Windsor.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote"><small>Nov. 1</small></span></p> - -<p>In the beginning of November following, -the King was seized with that illness, -which was so much lamented. It continued -<span class="sidenote">1789<br /><small>Feb. 28</small></span> -till the end of February 1789, when -his Majesty happily recovered.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote"><small>Mar. 15</small></span></p> - -<p>Soon after I had his Majesty’s command -to attend him at Kew; and on March 15, -I administered the Sacrament to his Majesty -at Windsor in the Chapel of the -Castle, as also on Easter Sunday, April 12, -<span class="sidenote"><small>April 12</small></span> -and preached both days.</p> - -<p>At the Sacrament of March 15, the -King was attended only by three or four -of his Gentlemen: On Easter-day, the -Queen, Princess Royal, and Princesses -Augusta and Elizabeth, with several Lords -and Gentlemen and Ladies of the Court, -attended the King to the Chapel, and -received the Sacrament with him. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxii">xxii</span></p> - -<p><span class="sidenote"><small>April 23</small></span></p> - -<p>On April 23 [St. George’s Day] a public -thanksgiving for the King’s recovery -was appointed. His Majesty, the Queen, -and Royal Family, with the two Houses -of Parliament, &c. went in procession to -St. Paul’s. The Bishop of London preached. -I was not well enough to be there.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1790<br /><small>May 28</small></span></p> - -<p>May 28, 1790, the Duke of Montagu died. -He was a nobleman of singular -worth and virtue; of an exemplary life; -and of the best principles in Church and -State. As Governor to the Prince of -Wales and Prince Frederick, he was very -attentive to his charge, and executed that -trust with great propriety and dignity. -The Preceptor was honoured with his confidence: -and there never was the least misunderstanding -between them; or so much -as a difference of opinion as to the manner -in which the education of the Princes should -be conducted.</p> - -<p>In October 1790, I had the honour to -receive from the King the present of two -fine full-length pictures of his Majesty -and the Queen, copied from those at the -Queen’s House, St. James’s Park, painted -by the late Mr. Gainsborough. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxiii">xxiii</span></p> - -<p>These pictures are put up in the great -Drawing-room at the Palace in Worcester, -and betwixt them, over the fire-place, is -fixed an oval tablet of white marble with -the following Inscription in Gold Letters.</p> - -<p class="caption"> -“Hospes,<br /> -Imagines, quas contemplaris,<br /> -Augustorum Principum,<br /> -Georgii III, et Charlottæ Conjugis,<br /> -Rex ipse<br /> -Richardo Episcopo Vigorniensi<br /> -Donavit,<br /> -1790.”<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1791<br /><small>Sept. 17</small></span></p> - -<p>My younger Brother, Mr. Thomas Hurd, -of Birmingham, died on Saturday, Sept. -17, 1791.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1792<br /><small>Dec. 6</small></span></p> - -<p>My elder Brother, Mr. John Hurd, of -Hatton, near Shifnal, died on Thursday, -December 6, 1792.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1793<br /><small>March 20</small></span></p> - -<p>My noble and honoured friend, the Earl -of Mansfield, died March 20, 1793.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1795<br /><small>Jan. 19</small></span></p> - -<p>My old and much esteemed friend, Dr. -Balguy, Prebendary and Archdeacon of -Winchester, died January 19, 1795.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote"><small>Feb. 24</small></span></p> - -<p>The Life of Bishop Warburton, which -was sent to the press in Autumn last, was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxiv">xxiv</span> -not printed off till the end of January, nor -published till towards the end of February -this year.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote"><small>Dec. 1</small></span></p> - -<p>Printed in the course of this year at the -Kidderminster press a Collection of Bishop -Warburton’s Letters to me, to be published -after my death for the benefit of the Worcester -Infirmary.—The edition consisted of -250 Copies, 4to—was finished at the press -in the beginning of December.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1796<br /><small>June 17 to 30</small></span></p> - -<p>In the Summer of 1796 visited my Diocese -in person, I have great reason to suppose -for the last time; being in the 77th -year of my age—<i>fiat voluntas Dei!</i></p> - -<p><span class="sidenote"><small>Sept. 1</small></span></p> - -<p>Mrs. Stafford Smith, late Mrs. Warburton, -died at Fladbury, September 1, 1796.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1797<br /><small>April 5</small></span></p> - -<p>Mr. Mason died at Aston, April 5, 1797. -He was one of my oldest and most respected -friends. How few of this description now -remain!</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1799<br /><small>Jan. 24</small></span></p> - -<p>By God’s great mercy enter this day [24 -Jan. 1799] into my 80th year. Ps. xc. 10. -But see, 1 Cor. xv. 22. Rom. viii. 18. -1 Pet. i. 3-5. Χάρις τῷ Θεῷ ἐπὶ τῇ ἀνεκδιηγητῳ -ἀυτοῦ δωρεᾷ. 2 Cor. ix. 15.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote"><small>May 27 to<br /> -June 14</small></span></p> - -<p>It pleased God that I was able this Summer -to confirm over all parts of my Diocese. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxv">xxv</span></p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1800<br /><small>June 6 to 17</small></span></p> - -<p>And to visit my Diocese in person once -more in June 1800.—L. D.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1801<br /><small>May 16</small></span></p> - -<p>Lost my old and worthy friend Dr. Heberden, -in the 91st or 92nd year of his age, -May 16, 1801.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1802<br /><small>June 15</small></span></p> - -<p>Consecrated, on Tuesday the 15th of -June, 1802, -the new Church and Church-yard -of Lower Eatington, near Shipston, in -Warwickshire.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote"><small>Aug. 5</small></span></p> - -<p>My most deserving, unhappy, friend, -Dr. William Arnald, died at Leicester, -August 5, 1802.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1803<br /><small>May 31 to<br />June 3</small></span></p> - -<p>Visited my Diocese by Commission—Commissioners, -Dr. Arnold, my Chancellor, -and Dr. Evans, Archdeacon.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1804<br /><small>July 25</small></span></p> - -<p>St. James’ day, July 25, 1804, held an -Ordination in Hartlebury Chapel—3 Deacons, -5 Priests—the last I can expect to -undertake.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1805</span></p> - -<p>Confirmations by the Bishop of Chester -(Dr. Majendie.)<br /> -March 27, Stratford.<span class="sidenote">March 27</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">28, Bromsgrove.</span><span class="sidenote">28</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">29, Hales Owen.</span><span class="sidenote">29</span></p> - -<p>—by the Bishop of Hereford (Dr. Cornwall.)<br /> -June 14, Worcester <span class="sidenote">June 14</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">15, Pershore</span><span class="sidenote">15</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">17, Kidderminster</span><span class="sidenote">17</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxvi">xxvi</span></p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1806</span></p> - -<p>Visited my Diocese this year by Commission—</p> - -<table> - <tr> - <th colspan="2">Commissioners,</th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2">The Chancellor and Archdeacon.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Warwick</td> - <td class="tdr">May 26.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Worcester</td> - <td class="tdr">28.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Kidderminster</td> - <td class="tdr">30.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Pershore</td> - <td class="tdr">31.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1807</span></p> - -<p>1807, Sept. 26. The Prince of Wales -visited Lady Downshire, at Ombersley -Court this month. I was too infirm to wait -upon him either at Ombersley or Worcester; -but his Royal Highness was pleased to call -at Hartlebury, on Saturday the 26th of -<span class="sidenote">Sept. 26</span> -this month, attended by his brother the -Duke of Sussex, and Lord Lake, and staid -with me above an hour.</p> - -<p><span class="sidenote">1808</span></p> - -<p>1808, April 23. Granted a Commission -to the Bishop of Chester, (Dr. Majendie,) -to consecrate the new Chapel and burying-ground -at Red-Ditch, in the parish of Tardebig; -which was performed this day, -Thursday, April 21, 1808, the proper officers -of the Court, and two of my Chaplains -attending. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxvii">xxvii</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>To this short narrative (the last paragraph of -which was written by the Author only five weeks -before his death) little more will be added.</p> - -<p>So late as the first Sunday in February before -his death, though then declining in health and -strength, he was able to attend his Parish Church, -and to receive the Sacrament. Free from any -painful or acute disorder, he gradually became -weaker, but his faculties continued perfect. After -a few days confinement to his bed, he expired in -his sleep, on Saturday morning, May 28, 1808; -having completed four months beyond his eighty-eighth -year. He was buried in Hartlebury -Church-yard, according to his own directions.</p> - -<p>He had been Bishop of Worcester for almost -twenty-seven years: a longer period than any -Bishop of that See since the Reformation. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxviii">xxviii</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxix">xxix</span></p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxx">xxx</span></p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxxi">xxxi</span></p> - -<h2 id="GENERAL_CONTENTS">GENERAL CONTENTS.</h2> - -<table> - <tr> - <th colspan="2">VOL. I. and II.</th> - </tr> - <tr> - <th colspan="2">CRITICAL WORKS.</th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Vol. I.</span></td> - <td>Q. Horatii Flacci Epistolae ad Pisones, et Augustum: <i>With an English Commentary and Notes.</i></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Vol. II.</span></td> - <td><span class="smcap">Critical Dissertations.</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td /><td><i>On the Idea of Universal Poetry.</i></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td /><td><i>On the Provinces of Dramatic Poetry.</i></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td /><td><i>On Poetical Imitation.</i></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td /><td><i>On the Marks of Imitation.</i></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <th colspan="2">VOL. III. and IV.</th> - </tr> - <tr> - <th colspan="2">MORAL <small>AND</small> POLITICAL DIALOGUES.</th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Vol. III.</span></td> - <td><i>On Sincerity in the Commerce of the World.</i></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td /><td><i>On Retirement.</i></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td /><td><i>On the Age of Queen Elizabeth.</i></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td /><td><i>On the Constitution of the English Government.</i><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxxii">xxxii</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Vol. IV.</span></td> - <td><i>On the Constitution of the English Government.</i></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td /><td><i>On the Uses of Foreign Travel.</i><br /><i>And</i></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td /><td><span class="smcap">Letters</span> <i>on Chivalry and Romance</i>.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <th colspan="2">VOL. V. VI. VII. and VIII.</th> - </tr> - <tr> - <th colspan="2">THEOLOGICAL WORKS.</th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Vol. V.</span></td> - <td><span class="smcap">Sermons</span> <i>introductory to the study of the Prophecies</i>.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td /><td class="i4"><i>With an Appendix;</i></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td /><td><i>Containing an anonymous Letter to the Author of these Sermons, and his Answer to it.</i></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Vol. VI.</span></td> - <td><span class="smcap">Sermons</span> <i>preached at Lincoln’s Inn</i>.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Vol. VII.</span></td> - <td><span class="smcap">Sermons</span> <i>preached at Lincoln’s Inn</i>.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Vol. VIII.</span></td> - <td><span class="smcap">Sermons</span> <i>on public Occasions</i>.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td /><td><span class="smcap">Charges</span> <i>to the Clergy</i>.<br /> -<i>And</i></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td /><td><i>An Appendix;</i></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td /><td><i>Containing Controversial Tracts on different subjects and occasions.</i></td> - </tr> -</table> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">1</span></p> - -<p id="CRITICAL_WORKS" class="ph1"> -CRITICAL WORKS.<br /> - -<span class="large">VOL. I.</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">2</span></p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</span></p> - -<h2> -Q. HORATII FLACCI<br /> - -EPISTOLAE<br /> - -<span class="medium">AD</span><br /> - -PISONES,<br /> - -<span class="medium">ET</span><br /> - -<span class="large">AUGUSTUM:</span><br /> - -<span class="medium">WITH AN ENGLISH</span><br /> - -<span class="large">COMMENTARY AND NOTES:</span><br /> - -<span class="medium">TO WHICH ARE ADDED</span><br /> - -<span class="large">CRITICAL DISSERTATIONS.</span><br /> - -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span></h2> - -<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> - -<table> - <tr> - <th>VOL. I.</th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="smcap">Introduction</span>,<br /> - <i>On Epistolary Writing</i>.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="smcap">Epistola ad Pisones</span>:<br /> - <i>With an English Commentary and Notes</i>.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="smcap">Epistola ad Augustum</span>:<br /> - <i>With an English Commentary and Notes</i>.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <th>VOL. II.</th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="smcap">Dissertation I.</span><br /> - <i>On the Idea of Universal Poetry.</i></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="smcap">Dissertation II.</span><br /> - <i>On the Provinces of Dramatic Poetry.</i></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="smcap">Dissertation III.</span><br /> - <i>On Poetical Imitation.</i></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="smcap">Dissertation IV.</span><br /> - <i>On the Marks of Imitation.</i></td> - </tr> -</table> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">6</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span></p> - -<h2>CONTENTS<br /> -<span class="medium">OF</span><br /> -THE FIRST VOLUME.</h2> - -<table> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><a href="#INTRODUCTION"><span class="smcap">Introduction</span>,</a><br /> - <i>On Epistolary Writing</i>.</td> - <td class="tdrb">13</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><a href="#Q_HORATII_FLACCI"><span class="smcap">Epistola ad Pisones</span>:</a><br /> - <i>With an English Commentary and Notes</i>.</td> - <td class="tdrb">27</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><a href="#Q_HORATII_FLACCI_2"><span class="smcap">Epistola ad Augustum</span>:</a><br /> - <i>With an English Commentary and Notes</i>.</td> - <td class="tdrb">279</td> - </tr> -</table> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</span></p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span></p> - -<h2><span class="medium">TO</span><br /> - -SIR EDWARD LITTLETON, <span class="smcap">Bart.</span></h2> - -<p><small>Dear Sir</small>,</p> - -<p>Having reviewed these Sheets with some care, -I beg leave to put them into your hands, as a testimony -of the respect I bear you; and, for the time -that such things may have the fortune to live, as a -monument of our friendship.</p> - -<p>You see, by the turn of this address, you have -nothing to fear from that offensive adulation, which -has so much dishonoured Letters. You and I have -lived together on other terms. And I should be -ashamed to offer you even such a trifle as this, in a -manner that would give you a right to think meanly -of its author.</p> - -<p>Your extreme delicacy allows me to say nothing -of my obligations, which otherwise would demand -my warmest acknowledgements. For your constant -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span> -favour has followed me in all ways, in which you -could contrive to express it. And indeed I have -never known any man more sensible to the good -offices of his friends, and even to their good intentions, -or more disposed, by every proper method, -to acknowledge them. But you much over-rate -the little services, which it has been in my power to -render to you. I had the honour to be intrusted -with a part of your education, and it was my duty -to contribute all I could to the success of it. But -the task was easy and pleasant. I had only to cultivate -that good sense, and those generous virtues, -which you brought with you to the University, and -which had already grown up to some maturity -under the care of a man, to whom we had both of -us been extremely obliged; and who possessed every -talent of a perfect institutor of youth in a degree, -which, I believe, has been rarely found in any of -that profession, since the days of <i>Quinctilian</i>.</p> - -<p>I wish this small tribute of respect, in which I -know how cordially you join with me, could be any -honour to the memory of an excellent person<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">4</a>, who -loved us both, and was less known, in his life-time, -from that obscure situation to which the caprice of -fortune oft condemns the most accomplished characters, -than his highest merit deserved. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span></p> - -<p>It was to cherish and improve that taste of polite -letters, which his early care had instilled into you, -that you required me to explain to you the following -exquisite piece of the best poet. I recollect with -pleasure how welcome this slight essay then was to -you; and am secure of the kind reception you will -now give to it; improved, as I think it is, in some -respects, and presented to you in this public way.—I -was going to say, how much you benefited by this -poet (the fittest of all others, for the study of a gentleman) -in your acquaintance with his <i>moral</i>, as -well as critical writings; and how successfully you -applied yourself to every other part of learning, -which was thought proper for you—But I remember -my engagements with you, and will not hazard -your displeasure by saying too much. It is enough -for me to add, that I truly respect and honour you; -and that, for the rest, I indulge in those hopes, -which every one, who knows you, entertains from -the excellence of your nature, from the hereditary -honour of your family, and from an education in -which you have been trained to the study of the best -things.</p> - -<p> -<span style="padding-left: 2em">I am,</span><br /> -<span style="padding-left: 4em"><small>Dear Sir</small>,</span><br /> -<span style="padding-left: 6em">Your most faithful and</span><br /> -<span style="padding-left: 8em">most obedient Servant,</span><br /> -<span style="padding-left: 10em"><span class="smcap">R. Hurd</span>.</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">Eman. Coll. Camb.</span><br /> -<span style="padding-left: 2em">June 21, 1757.</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span></p> - -<h2 id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION.</h2> - -<p>It is agreed on all hands, that the antients are our -masters in the <i>art</i> of composition. Such of their -writings, therefore, as deliver instructions for the -exercise of this <i>art</i>, must be of the highest value. -And, if any of them hath acquired a credit, in this -respect, superior to the rest, it is, perhaps, the <i>following -work</i>: which the learned have long since -considered as a kind of <i>summary</i> of the rules of good -writing; to be gotten by heart by every young -student; and to whose decisive authority the greatest -masters in taste and composition must finally -submit.</p> - -<p>But the more unquestioned the credit of this poem -is, the more it will concern the public, that it be -justly and accurately understood. The writer of -these sheets then believed it might be of use, if he -took some pains to clear the sense, connect the method, -and ascertain the scope and purpose, of this -admired epistle. Others, he knew indeed, and -some of the first fame for critical learning, had been -before him in this attempt. Yet he did not find -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span> -himself prevented by their labours; in which, besides -innumerable lesser faults, he, more especially, -observed two inveterate errors, of such a sort, as -must needs perplex the genius, and distress the -learning of <i>any</i> commentator. The <i>one</i> of these respects -the <small>SUBJECT</small>; the other, the <small>METHOD</small> of the -<i>Art of poetry</i>. It will be necessary to say something -upon each.</p> - -<p>1. That the <i>Art of poetry</i>, at large, is not the -<i>proper</i> subject of this piece, is so apparent, that it -hath not escaped the dullest and least attentive of its -critics. For, however all the different <i>kinds</i> of -poetry might appear to enter into it, yet every one -saw, that <i>some</i> at least were very slightly considered: -whence the frequent attempts, the <i>artes et institutiones -poeticæ</i>, of writers both at home and abroad, -to supply its deficiencies. But, though this truth -was seen and confessed, it unluckily happened, that -the sagacity of his numerous commentators went no -further. They still considered this famous epistle -as a <i>collection</i>, though not a <i>system</i>, of criticisms -on poetry in general; with this concession however, -that the stage had evidently the largest share in it<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">5</a>. -Under the influence of this prejudice, several writers -of name took upon them to comment and explain -it: and with the success, which was to be expected -from so fatal a mistake on setting out, as the not -seeing, “that the proper and sole purpose of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span> -author, was, not to abridge the Greek critics, -whom he probably never thought of; nor to -amuse himself with composing a short critical -system, for the general use of poets, which every -line of it absolutely confutes; but, simply to criticize -the <span class="smcap">Roman drama</span>.” For to this end, not -the tenor of the work only, but, as will appear, -every single precept in it, ultimately refers. The -mischiefs of this original error have been long felt. -It hath occasioned a constant perplexity in defining -the <i>general</i> method, and in fixing the import of -<i>particular</i> rules. Nay its effects have reached still -further. For, conceiving as they did, that the -whole had been composed out of the Greek critics, -the labour and ingenuity of its interpreters have -been misemployed in picking out authorities, which -were not wanted, and in producing, or, more properly, -by their studied refinements in <i>creating</i>, -conformities, which were never designed. Whence -it hath come to pass, that, instead of investigating -the order of the poet’s own reflexions, and scrutinizing -the peculiar state of the Roman stage (the methods, -which common sense and common criticism -would prescribe) the world hath been nauseated -with insipid lectures on <i>Aristotle</i> and <i>Phalereus</i>; -whose solid sense hath been so attenuated and subtilized -by the delicate operation of French criticism, -as hath even gone some way towards bringing the -<i>art</i> itself into disrepute.</p> - -<p>2. But the wrong explications of this poem have -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">16</span> -arisen, not from the misconception of the <i>subject</i> -only, but from an inattention to the <small>METHOD</small> of it. -The <i>latter</i> was, in part, the genuin consequence of -the <i>former</i>. For, not suspecting an unity of design -in the subject, its interpreters never looked for, or -could never find a consistency of disposition in the -method. And this was indeed the very block upon -which <span class="smcap">Heinsius</span>, and, before him, <i>Julius Scaliger</i>, -himself, stumbled. These illustrious critics, -with all the force of genius, which is required to -disembarrass an involved subject, and all the aids of -learning, that can lend a ray to enlighten a dark -one, have, notwithstanding, found themselves utterly -unable to unfold the order of this epistle; insomuch, -that <span class="smcap">Scaliger</span><a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">6</a>, hath boldly pronounced -the conduct of it to be <i>vicious</i>; and <span class="smcap">Heinsius</span>, had -no other way to evade the charge, than by recurring -to the forced and uncritical expedient of a licentious -transposition. The truth is, they were both in one -common error, That the poet’s purpose had been to -write a criticism of the art of poetry at large, and -not, as is here shewn, of the Roman drama in particular. -But there is something more to be observed, -in the case of <span class="smcap">Heinsius</span>. For, as will be made appear -in the notes on particular places, this critic -did not pervert the order of the piece, from a simple -mistake about the drift of the subject, but, also, -from a total inapprehension of the genuin charm -and beauty of the <i>epistolary method</i>. And, because -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span> -I take this to be a principal cause of the wrong -interpretations, that have been given of all the -epistles of Horace; and it is, in itself, a point of -curious criticism, of which little or nothing hath -been said by any good writer, I will take the liberty -to enlarge upon it.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Epistle</span>, however various in its appearances, -is, in fact, but of <i>two</i> kinds; <i>one</i> of which may be -called the <span class="smcap">Didactic</span>; the <i>other</i>, the <span class="smcap">Elegiac</span> -epistle. By the <small>FIRST</small> I mean all those epistles, -whose end is to <i>instruct</i>; whether the subject be -<i>morals</i>, <i>politics</i>, <i>criticism</i>, or, in general, <i>human -life</i>: by the <small>LATTER</small>, all those, whose end is to -<i>move</i>; whether the occasion be <i>love</i>, <i>friendship</i>, -<i>jealousy</i>, or other private distresses. If there are some -of a lighter kind in Horace, and other good writers, -which seem not reducible to either of these two -classes, they are to be regarded only, as the triflings -of their pen, and deserve not to be considered, as -making a <i>third</i> and distinct species of this poem.</p> - -<p>Now these two kinds of the <i>epistle</i>, as they differ -widely from each other in their <i>subject</i> and <i>end</i>, so -do they likewise in their <i>original</i>: though both -<i>flourished</i> at the same time, and are both wholly -<i>Roman</i>.</p> - -<p>I. The former, or <span class="smcap">Didactic</span> epistle, was, in fact, -the true and proper offspring of the <span class="smcap">Satire</span>. It -will be worth while to reflect how this happened. -<i>Satire</i>, in its origin, I mean in the rude <i>fescennine -farce</i>, from which the idea of this poem was taken -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span> -was a mere extemporaneous jumble of mirth and ill-nature. -<span class="smcap">Ennius</span>, who had the honour of introducing -it under its new name, without doubt, civilized -both, yet left it without form or method; it being -only, in his hands, a rhapsody of poems on different -subjects, and in different measures. Common -sense disclaiming the extravagance of this heterogeneous -mixture, <span class="smcap">Lucilius</span> advanced it, in its next -step, to an unity of <i>design</i> and <i>metre</i>; which was -so considerable a change, that it procured him the -high appellation of <span class="smcap">Inventor</span> of this poem. -Though, when I say, that Lucilius introduced into -satire <i>an unity of metre</i>, I mean only, in <i>the same -piece</i>; for the measure, in different satires, appears -to have been different. That the <i>design</i> in him was -<i>one</i>, I conclude, <i>first</i>, Because Horace expresly -informs us, that <i>the form or kind of writing</i> in the -satires of Lucilius was exactly the same with <i>that</i> in -his own; in which no one will pretend, that there -is the least appearance of that rhapsodical, detached -form, which made the character of the <i>old satire</i>. -But, <i>principally</i>, because, on any other supposition, -it does not appear, what could give Lucilius a -claim to that high appellation of <span class="smcap">Inventor</span> of this -poem. That he was the <i>first</i>, who copied the manner -of the <i>old comedy</i> in satire, could never be sufficient -for this purpose. For all, that he derived into -it from thence, was, as Quinctilian speaks, <i>libertas -atque inde acerbitas et abunde salis</i>. It sharpened -his <i>invective</i>, and polished his <i>wit</i>, that is, it improved -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span> -the <i>air</i>, but did not alter the <i>form</i> of the -satire. As little can a right to this title be pleaded -from the <i>uniformity of measure</i>, which he introduced -into it. For <i>this</i>, without an <i>unity of design</i>, is -so far from being an alteration for the better, that it -even heightens the absurdity; it being surely more -reasonable to adapt different measures to different -subjects, than to treat a number of inconnected and -quite different subjects in the <i>same</i> measure. When -therefore Horace tells us, that Lucilius was the <i>Inventor</i> -of the satire, it must needs be understood, -that he was the <small>FIRST</small>, who, from its former confused -state, reduced it into a regular consistent -poem, respecting one main <i>end</i>, as well as observing -one <i>measure</i>. Little now remained for <span class="smcap">Horace</span> -but to polish and refine. His only material alteration -was, that he appropriated to the satire <small>ONE</small>, -that is, the heroic metre.</p> - -<p>From this short history of the satire we collect, -1. that its design was <i>one</i>: And 2. we learn, what -was the general form of its composition. For, -arising out of a loose, disjointed, miscellany, its -method, when most regular, would be free and unconstrained; -nature demanding some chain of connexion, -and a respect to its origin requiring that connexion -to be slight and somewhat concealed. But -its <i>aim</i>, as well as origin, exacted this careless method. -For being, as Diomedes observes, <i>archææ -comœdiæ charactere compositum</i>, “professedly written -after the manner of the old comedy,” it was of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span> -course to admit the familiarity of the comic muse; -whose genius is averse from all constraint of <i>order</i>, -save that only which a natural, successive train of -thinking unavoidably draws along with it. And -this, by the way, accounts for the dialogue air, so -frequent in the Roman satire, as likewise for the -looser numbers which appeared so essential to the -grace of it. It was in learned allusion to this comic -genius of the satire, that Mr. Pope hath justly characterized -it in the following manner:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Horace still charms with graceful negligence,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“And, without method, <small>TALKS</small> us into sense.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>2. It being now seen, what was the real form of -the <i>satire</i>, nothing, it is plain, was wanting, but -the application of a particular address, to constitute -the <i>didactic epistle</i>: the structure of this poem, as -prescribed by the laws of nature and good sense, -being in nothing different from that of the <i>other</i>. -For here 1. an <i>unity</i> of subject or design is indispensably -necessary, the freedom of a miscellaneous -matter being permitted only to the familiar letter. -And 2. not professing <i>formally</i> to instruct (which -alone justifies the severity of strict method) but, when -of the gravest kind, in the way of address only to <i>insinuate</i> -instruction, it naturally takes an air of negligence -and inconnexion, such as we have before seen -essential to the satire. All which is greatly confirmed -by the testimony of <i>one</i>, who could not be -uninformed in these matters. In addressing his -friend on the object of his studies, he says, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i34"><i>sive</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Liventem</i> satiram <i>nigra rubigine turpes,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Seu tua</i> <small>NON ALIA</small> <i>splendescat</i> epistola <small>CURA</small>.<br /></span> -<span class="author">[Stat. lib. i. Sylv. Tiburt. M. V.]<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>plainly intimating, that the rules and labour of -composition were exactly the same in these two -poems. Though the critics on Statius, not apprehending -this identity, or exact correspondence between -the <i>satire</i> and <i>epistle</i>, have unnecessarily, -and without warrant, altered the text, in this place, -from <small>ALIA</small> into <small>ALTA</small>.</p> - -<p>3. The general form and structure of <i>this</i> epistle -being thus clearly understood, it will now be easy, -in few words, to deduce the peculiar laws of its -composition.</p> - -<p>And 1. it cannot wholly divest itself of all method: -For, having only one point in view, it must -of course pursue it by some kind of connexion. The -progress of the mind in rational thinking requires, -that the chain be never broken entirely, even in its -freest excursions.</p> - -<p>2. As there must needs be a <i>connexion</i>, so <i>that -connexion</i> will best answer its end and the purpose of -the writer, which, whilst it leads, by a sure train -of thinking, to the conclusion in view, conceals itself -all the while, and leaves to the reader the satisfaction -of supplying the intermediate links, and -joining together, in his own mind, what is left in a -seeming posture of neglect and inconnexion. The -art of furnishing this gratification, so respectful to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span> -the sagacity of the reader, without putting him to -the trouble of a painful investigation, is what constitutes -the supreme charm and beauty of <span class="smcap">Epistolary Method</span>.</p> - -<p>II. What hath hitherto been advanced respects -chiefly the <i>didactic</i> form. It remains to say something -of that other <i>species</i> of the epistle, the <span class="smcap">Elegiac</span>; -which, as I observed, had quite another <i>original</i>. -For this apparently sprung up from what is -properly called the <i>Elegy</i>: a poem of very antient -Greek extraction: naturally arising from the plaintive, -querulous humour of mankind; which, under -the pressure of any grief, is impatient to break forth -into wailings and tender expostulations, and finds a -kind of relief in indulging and giving a loose to that -flow of sorrow, which it hath not strength or resolution -wholly<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">7</a> to restrain. This is the account of -the <i>Elegy</i> in its proper Greek form; a negligent, -inconnected, abrupt species of writing, perfectly -suited to an indolent disposition and passionate heart. -Such was <span class="smcap">Ovid’s</span>; who, taking advantage of this -character of the elegy, contrived<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">8</a> a new kind of -poetry, without the expence of much invention, or -labour to himself. For, collecting, as it were, -those scattered hints, which composed the elegy, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span> -and directing them to one principal view; and superadding -a personal address, he became the author -of what is here styled the <i>Elegiac</i> epistle; beautiful -models of which we have in his <span class="smcap">Heroides</span>, and the -<i>Epistles from</i> <span class="smcap">Pontus</span>. We see then the difference -of <i>this</i> from the <i>didactic</i> form. They have both -one principal end and point in view. But the <i>Didactic</i>, -being of a cooler and more sedate turn, pursues -its design uniformly and connects easily. The -<i>Elegiac</i>, on the contrary, whose end is <i>emotion</i>, -not <i>instruction</i>, hath all the abruptness of irregular -disordered passion. It catches at remote and distant -hints, and starts at once into a digressive train -of thinking, which it requires some degree of enthusiasm -in the reader to follow.</p> - -<p>Further than this it is not material to my present -design to pursue this subject. More exact ideas of -the form and constitution of this epistle, must be -sought in that best example of it, the natural Roman -poet. It may only be observed of the different -qualities, necessary to those, who aspire to excel in -these <i>two</i> species: that, as the <i>one</i> would make an -impression on the <i>heart</i>, it can only do this by -means of an exquisite <i>sensibility of nature and elegance -of mind</i>; and that the <i>other</i>, attempting in -the most inoffensive manner, to inform the <i>head</i>, -must demand, to the full accomplishment of its -purpose, <i>superior good sense</i>, <i>the widest knowledge -of life</i>, and, above all, <i>the politeness of a consummate -address</i>. That the <i>former</i> was the characteristic -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span> -of <span class="smcap">Ovid’s</span> genius hath been observed, and is well -known. How far the <i>latter</i> description agrees to -<span class="smcap">Horace</span> can be no secret to those of his readers who -have any share, or conception of these talents themselves. -But matters of this <i>nicer</i> kind are properly -the objects, not of <i>criticism</i>, but of <i>sentiment</i>. -Let it suffice then to examine the poet’s practice, so -far only, as we are enabled to judge of it by the -standard of the preceding rules.</p> - -<p>III. These rules are reducible to <i>three</i>. 1. <i>that -there be an unity in the subject</i>. 2. <i>a connexion in -the method</i>: and 3. <i>that such connexion be easy</i>. -All which I suppose to have been religiously observed -in the poet’s conduct of <i>this</i>, <i>i. e.</i> the <i>didactic</i> -epistle. For,</p> - -<p>1. The <i>subject</i> of each epistle is one: that is, -one single point is prosecuted through the whole -piece, notwithstanding that the address of the poet, -and the delicacy of the subject may sometimes lead -him through a devious tract to it. Had his interpreters -attended to this practice, so consonant to -the rule of nature before explained, they could never -have found <i>an art of poetry</i> in the epistle, we -are about to examine.</p> - -<p>2. This one point, however it hath not been -seen<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">9</a>, is constantly pursued by an uniform, consistent -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span> -<i>method</i>; which is never more artificial, than -when least apparent to a careless, inattentive reader. -This should have stimulated his learned critics to -seek the connexion of the poet’s own ideas, when -they magisterially set themselves to transpose or vilify -his method.</p> - -<p>3. This method is every where sufficiently <i>clear -and obvious</i>; proceeding if not in the strictest forms -of <i>disposition</i>, yet, in an easy, elegant progress, -one hint arising out of another, and insensibly giving -occasion to succeeding ones, just as the cooler genius -of this <i>kind</i> required. This, lastly, should have prevented -those, who have taken upon themselves to -criticize <i>the art of poetry</i> by the laws of <i>this</i> poem, -from concealing their ignorance of its real views -under the cover of such abrupt and violent transitions, -as might better agree to the impassioned <i>elegy</i>, -than to the sedate <i>didactic epistle</i>.</p> - -<p>To set this three-fold character, in the fullest -light, before the view of the reader, I have attempted -to explain the <i>Epistle to the Pisos</i>, in the way -of continued commentary upon it. And that the -coherence of the several parts may be the more distinctly -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span> -seen, the Commentary is rendered as concise -as possible; some of the finer and less obvious connexions -being more carefully observed and drawn -out in the notes.</p> - -<p>For the <i>kind</i> of interpretation itself, it must be -allowed, of all others, the fittest to throw light -upon a difficult and obscure subject, and, above all, -to convey an exact idea of the scope and order of -any work. It hath, accordingly, been so considered -by several of the foreign, particularly the <span class="smcap">Italian</span>, -critics; who have essayed long since to illustrate, in -this way, the very piece before us. But the <i>success</i> -of these foreigners is, I am sensible, a slender recommendation -of their <i>method</i>. I chuse therefore -to rest on the <i>single</i> authority of a great author, -who, in his <i>edition</i> of our English Horace, the <i>best</i> -that ever was given of any classic, hath now retrieved -and established the full credit of it. What was the -amusement of his pen, becomes indeed, the <i>labour</i> -of inferior writers. Yet, on these unequal terms, -it can be no discredit to have aimed at some resemblance -of one of the least of those <i>merits</i>, which -shed their united honours on the name of the illustrious -<i>friend</i> and <i>commentator of</i> Mr. <span class="smcap">Pope</span>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">28</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span></p> - -<h2 id="Q_HORATII_FLACCI">Q. HORATII FLACCI<br /> - -<span class="large">ARS POETICA<br /> - -EPISTOLA AD PISONES.</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Humano capiti cervicem pictor equinam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jungere si velit, et varias inducere plumas<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Undique collatis membris, ut turpiter atrum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Desinat in piscem mulier formosa superne;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spectatum admissi risum teneatis amici? <span class="linenum">5</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Credite, Pisones, isti tabulae fore librum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Persimilem, cujus, velut aegri somnia, vanae<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fingentur species; ut nec pes, nec caput uni<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span> -<span class="i0">Reddatur formae. Pictoribus atque poetis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quidlibet audendi semper fuit aequa potestas: <span class="linenum">10</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scimus, et hanc veniam petimusque damusque vicissim:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sed non ut placidis coëant inmitia; non ut<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span> -<span class="i0">Serpentes avibus geminentur, tigribus agni.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inceptis gravibus plerumque et magna professis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Purpureus, late qui splendeat, unus et alter <span class="linenum">15</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adsuitur pannus: cum lucus, et ara Dianae,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et properantis aquae per amoenos ambitus agros,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aut flumen Rhenum, aut pluvius describitur arcus.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sed nunc non erat his locus: et fortasse cupressum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scis simulare: quid hoc, si fractis enatat exspes <span class="linenum">20</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Navibus, aere dato qui pingitur? amphora coepit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Institui, currente rota, cur urceus exit?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Denique sit quidvis; simplex dumtaxat et unum.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Maxima pars vatum, pater et juvenes patre digni,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Decipimur specie recti. Brevis esse laboro, <span class="linenum">25</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Obscurus fio: sectantem lenia nervi<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span> -<span class="i0">Deficiunt animique: professus grandia turget:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Serpit humi tutus nimium timidusque procellae:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Qui variare cupit rem prodigialiter unam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Delphinum silvis adpingit, fluctibus aprum. <span class="linenum">30</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">In vitium ducit culpae fuga, si caret arte.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aemilium circa ludum faber, unus et unguis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Exprimet, et mollis imitabitur aere capillos;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Infelix operis, summa: quia ponere totum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nesciet. hunc ego me, si quid componere curem, <span class="linenum">35</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Non magis esse velim; quam naso vivere pravo,<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">33</span> -<span class="i0">Spectandum nigris oculis nigroque capillo.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sumite materiam vestris, qui scribitis, aequam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Viribus; et versate diu, quid ferre recusent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quid valeant humeri. cui lecta potenter erit res, <span class="linenum">40</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nec facundia deseret hunc, nec lucides ordo.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ordinis haec virtus erit et venus, aut ego fallor;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ut jam nunc dicat, jam nunc debentia dici<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pleraque differat et praesens in tempus omittat.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">34</span> -<span class="i0">Hoc amet, hoc spernat, promissi carminis auctor. <span class="linenum">45</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">In verbis etiam tenuis cautusque serendis;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dixeris egregie, notum si callida verbum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reddiderit junctura novum; si forte necesse est<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Indiciis monstrare recentibus abdita rerum;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fingere cinctutis non exaudita Cethegis <span class="linenum">50</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Continget: dabiturque licentia sumta pudenter.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et nova factaque nuper habebunt verba fidem; si<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Graeco fonte cadent, parce detorta, quid autem:<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span> -<span class="i0">Caecilio Plautoque dabit Romanus, ademtum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Virgilio Varioque? ego cur adquirere pauca, <span class="linenum">55</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si possum, invideor? quum lingua Catonis et Enni<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sermonem patrium ditaverit, et nova rerum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nomina protulerit. licuit, semperque licebit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Signatum praesente nota procudere nummum.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ut silvis folia privos mutantur in annos; <span class="linenum">60</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prima cadunt: ita verborum vetus interit aetas,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et juvenum ritu florent modo nata vigentque.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Debemur morti nos, nostraque: sive receptus<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span> -<span class="i0">Terra Neptunus classis Aquilonibus arcet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Regis opus; sterilisve palus prius aptaque remis <span class="linenum">65</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vicinas urbis alit, et grave sentit aratrum:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seu cursum mutavit iniquum frugibus amnis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doctus iter melius: mortalia cuncta peribunt:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nedum sermonum stet honos, et gratia vivax.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Multa renascentur, quae jam cecidere; cadentque, <span class="linenum">70</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quae nunc sunt in honore vocabula: si volet usus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quem penes arbitrium est, et jus, et norma loquendi.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Res gestae regumque ducumque, et tristia bella,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quo scribi possent numero, monstravit Homerus.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Versibus inpariter junctis querimonia primum, <span class="linenum">75</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Post etiam inclusa est voti sententia compos.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quis tamen exiguos elegos emiserit auctor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grammatici certant, et adhuc sub judice lis est.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Archilochum proprio rabies armavit iambo.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hunc socci cepere pedem grandesque cothurni, <span class="linenum">80</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alternis aptum sermonibus, et popularis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vincentem strepitus, et natum rebus agendis.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span> -<span class="i0">Musa dedit fidibus Divos, puerosque Deorum,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et pugilem victorem, et equum certamine primum,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et juvenum curas, et libera vina referre. <span class="linenum">85</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Descriptas servare vices operumque colores,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cur ego, si nequeo ignoroque, poeta salutor?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cur nescire, pudens prave, quam discere malo?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Versibus exponi tragicis res comica non volt:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Indignatur item privatis ac prope socco <span class="linenum">90</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dignis carminibus narrari coena Thyestae.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Singula quaeque locum teneant sortita decentem.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Interdum tamen et vocem comoedia tollit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Iratusque Chremes tumido dilitigat ore.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri. <span class="linenum">95</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Telephus aut Peleus, cum pauper et exul uterque,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Projicit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba,<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span> -<span class="i0">Si curat cor spectantis tetigisse querela.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Non satis est pulchra esse poëmata; dulcia sunto,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et quocunque volent, animum auditoris agunto. <span class="linenum">100</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ut ridentibus adrident, ita flentibus adflent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Humani voltus. si vis me flere, dolendum est<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Primum ipsi tibi: tunc tua me infortunia laedent.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Telephe, vel Peleu, male si mandata loqueris,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aut dormitabo, aut ridebo. tristia moestum <span class="linenum">105</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Voltum verba decent; iratum, plena minarum;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ludentem, lasciva; severum, seria dictu.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Format enim Natura prius nos intus ad omnem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fortunarum habitum; juvat, aut inpellit ad iram,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aut ad humum moerore gravi deducit, et angit: <span class="linenum">110</span><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span> -<span class="i0">Post effert animi motus interprete lingua.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si dicentis erunt fortunis absona dicta,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Romani tollent equitesque patresque cachinnum.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Intererit multum, Divusne loquatur, an heros;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Maturusne senex, an adhuc florente juventa <span class="linenum">115</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fervidus; et matrona potens, an sedula nutrix;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mercatorne vagus, cultorne virentis agelli;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Colchus, an Assyrius; Thebis nutritus, an Argis.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aut famam sequere, aut sibi convenientia finge,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scriptor. Homereum si forte reponis Achillem; <span class="linenum">120</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jura neget sibi nata, nihil non arroget armis.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sit Medea ferox invictaque, flebilis Ino,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perfidus Ixion, Io vaga, tristis Orestes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si quid inexpertum scenae conmittis, et audes <span class="linenum">125</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Personam formare novam; servetur ad imum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi constet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Difficile est proprie communia dicere: tuque<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span> -<span class="i0">Rectius Iliacum carmen deducis in actus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quàm si proferres ignota indictaque primus. <span class="linenum">130</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Publica materies privati juris erit, si<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Non circa vilem patulumque moraberis orbem;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nec verbum verbo curabis reddere fidus<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Interpres; nec desilies imitator in artum,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unde pedem proferre pudor vetet aut operis lex. <span class="linenum">135</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nec sic incipies, ut scriptor cyclicus olim:<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fortunam Priami cantabo, et nobile bellum</span>.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quid dignum tanto feret hic promissor hiatu?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Parturiunt montes: nascetur ridiculus mus.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quanto rectius hic, qui nîl molitur inepte! <span class="linenum">140</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Dic mihi, Musa, virum, captae post moenia Trojae,</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Qui mores hominum multorum vidit et urbis.</span><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span> -<span class="i0">Non fumum ex fulgore, sed ex fumo dare lucem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cogitat, ut speciosa dehinc miracula promat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Antiphaten, Scyllamque, et cum Cyclope Charybdin. <span class="linenum">145</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nec reditum Diomedis ab interitu Meleagri,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nec gemino bellum Trojanum orditur ab ovo:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Semper ad eventum festinat; et in medias res,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Non secus ac notas, auditorem rapit; et quae<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Desperat tractata nitescere posse, relinquit: <span class="linenum">150</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Atque ita mentitur, sic veris falsa remiscet,<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span> -<span class="i0">Primo ne medium, medio ne discrepet imum.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tu, quid ego et populus mecum desideret, audi;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si fautoris eges aulaea manentis, et usque<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sessuri, donec cantor, Vos plaudite, dicat: <span class="linenum">155</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aetatis cujusque notandi sunt tibi mores,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mobilibusque decor naturis dandus et annis.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reddere qui voces jam scit puer, et pede certo<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span> -<span class="i0">Signat humum; gestit paribus colludere, et iram<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Colligit ac ponit temere, et mutatur in horas. <span class="linenum">160</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inberbus juvenis, tandem custode remoto,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gaudet equis canibusque et aprici gramine campi;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cereus in vitium flecti, monitoribus asper,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Utilium tardus provisor, prodigus aeris,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sublimis, cupidusque, et amata relinquere pernix. <span class="linenum">165</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Conversis studiis, aetas animusque virilis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quaerit opes et amicitias, inservit honori;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Conmisisse cavet quod mox mutare laboret.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Multa senem circumveniunt incommoda; vel quod<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quaerit, et inventis miser abstinet, ac timet uti; <span class="linenum">170</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vel quòd res omnis timide gelideque ministrat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dilator, spe lentus, iners, pavidusque futuri;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Difficilis, querulus, laudator temporis acti<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Se puero, castigator, censorque minorum.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Multa ferunt anni venientes commoda secum, <span class="linenum">175</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Multa recedentes adimunt: ne forte seniles<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mandentur juveni partes, pueroque viriles.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Semper in adjunctis aevoque morabimur aptis.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aut agitur res in scenis, aut acta refertur:<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span> -<span class="i0">Segnius inritant animos demissa per aurem, <span class="linenum">180</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quam quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus, et quae<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ipse sibi tradit spectator. non tamen intus<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Digna geri promes in scenam: multaque tolles<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ex oculis, quae mox narret facundia praesens:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne pueros coram populo Medea trucidet; <span class="linenum">185</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aut humana palam coquat exta nefarius Atreus;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aut in avem Procne vertatur, Cadmus in anguem.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quodcunque ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odi.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Neve minor, neu sit quinto productior actu<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fabula, quae posci volt, et spectata reponi. <span class="linenum">190</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nec Deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inciderit: nec quarta loqui persona laboret.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Actoris partes chorus, officiumque virile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Defendat: neu quid medios intercinat actus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quod non proposito conducat et haereat apte. <span class="linenum">195</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ille bonis faveatque et consilietur amice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et regat iratos, et amet pacare tumentis:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ille dapes laudet mensae brevis, ille salubrem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Justitiam, legesque, et apertis otia portis:<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span> -<span class="i0">Ille tegat conmissa; Deosque precetur et oret, <span class="linenum">200</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ut redeat miseris, abeat fortuna superbis.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tibia non, ut nunc, orichalco juncta, tubaeque<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aemula; sed tenuis, simplexque foramine pauco,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aspirare et adesse choris erat utilis, atque<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nondum spissa nimis conplere sedilia flatu: <span class="linenum">205</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quo sane populus numerabilis, utpote parvus<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et frugi castusque verecundusque coibat.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Postquam coepit agros extendere victor, et urbem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laxior amplecti murus, vinoque diurno<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Placari Genius festis inpune diebus; <span class="linenum">210</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Accessit numerisque modisque licentia major.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Indoctus quid enim saperet liberque laborum,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rusticus urbano confusus, turpis honesto?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span> -<span class="i0">Sic priscae motumque et luxuriem addidit arti<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tibicen, traxitque vagus per pulpita vestem: <span class="linenum">215</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sic etiam fidibus voces crevere severis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et tulit eloquium insolitum facundia praeceps;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Utiliumque sagax rerum, et divina futuri,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sortilegis non discrepuit sententia Delphis.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Carmine qui tragico vilem certavit ob hircum, <span class="linenum">220</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mox etiam agrestis Satyros nudavit, et asper<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Incolumi gravitate jocum tentavit: eo quod<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inlecebris erat et grata novitate morandus<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spectator functusque sacris, et potus, et exlex.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Verum ita risores, ita commendare dicacis <span class="linenum">225</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Conveniet Satyros, ita vertere seria ludo;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne quicunque Deus, quicunque adhibebitur heros<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Regali conspectus in auro nuper et ostro,<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span> -<span class="i0">Migret in obscuras humili sermone tabernas:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aut, dum vitat humum, nubes et inania captet. <span class="linenum">230</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Effutire levis indigna tragoedia versus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ut festis matrona moveri jussa diebus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Intererit Satyris paulum pudibunda protervis.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Non ego inornata et dominantia nomina solum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Verbaque, Pisones, Satyrorum scriptor amabo: <span class="linenum">235</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nec sic enitar tragico differre colori;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ut nihil intersit, Davusne loquatur et audax<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pythias emuncto lucrata Simone talentum;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An custos famulusque Dei Silenus alumni.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ex noto fictum carmen sequar: ut sibi quivis <span class="linenum">240</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Speret idem; sudet multum, frustraque laboret<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ausus idem: tantum series juncturaque pollet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tantum de medio sumtis accedit honoris.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silvis deducti caveant, me judice, Fauni,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne velut innati triviis, ac pene forenses, <span class="linenum">245</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aut nimium teneris juvenentur versibus umquam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aut inmunda crepent ignominiosaque dicta.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Offenduntur enim, quibus est equus, et pater, et res;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nec, si quid fricti ciceris probat et nucis emtor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aequis accipiunt animis, donantve corona. <span class="linenum">250</span><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span> -<span class="i0">Syllaba longa brevi subjecta, vocatur Iambus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pes citus: unde etiam Trimetris adcrescere jussit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nomen Iambeis, cum senos redderet ictus<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Primus ad extremum similis sibi: non ita pridem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tardior ut paulo graviorque veniret ad auris, <span class="linenum">255</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spondeos stabilis in jura paterna recepit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Commodus et patiens: non ut de sede secunda<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cederet, aut quarta socialiter. Hic et in Accî<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nobilibus Trimetris apparet rarus, et Ennî.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In scenam missus cum magno pondere versus, <span class="linenum">260</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aut operae celeris nimium curaque carentis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aut ignoratae premit artis crimine turpi.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Non quivis videt immodulata poëmata judex:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et data Romanis venia est indigna poetis.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Idcircone vager, scribamque licenter? ut omnis <span class="linenum">265</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Visuros peccata putem mea; tutas et intra<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spem veniae cautus? vitavi denique culpam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Non laudem merui. Vos exemplaria Graeca<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At vestri proavi Plautinos et numeros et <span class="linenum">270</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laudavere sales; nimium patienter utrumque<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Ne dicam stulte) mirati: si modo ego et vos<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span> -<span class="i0">Scimus inurbanum lepido seponere dicto,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Legitimumque sonum digitis callemus et aure.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ignotum tragicae genus invenisse Camenae <span class="linenum">275</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dicitur, et plaustris vexisse poëmata Thespis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Qui canerent agerentque, peruncti faecibus ora.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Post hunc personae pallaeque repertor honestae<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aeschylos et modicis instravit pulpita tignis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et docuit magnumque loqui, nitique cothurno. <span class="linenum">280</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Successit vetus his Comoedia, non sine multa<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laude: sed in vitium libertas excidit, et vim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dignam lege regi: lex est accepta; chorusque<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turpiter obticuit, sublato jure nocendi.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nil intentatum nostri liquere poëtae: <span class="linenum">285</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nec minimum meruere decus, vestigia Graeca<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ausi deserere, et celebrare domestica facta,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vel qui Praetextas, vel qui docuere Togatas.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nec virtute foret clarisve potentius armis,<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span> -<span class="i0">Quam lingua, Latium; si non offenderet unum- <span class="linenum">290</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quemque poëtarum limae labor et mora. Vos, ô<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pompilius sanguis, carmen reprehendite, quod non<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Multa dies et multa litura coërcuit, atque<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Praesectum decies non castigavit ad unguem.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ingenium misera quia fortunatius arte <span class="linenum">295</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Credit, et excludit sanos Helicone poëtas<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Democritus; bona pars non unguis ponere curat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Non barbam: secreta petit loca, balnea vitat.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nanciscetur enim pretium nomenque poëtae,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si tribus Anticyris caput insanabile numquam <span class="linenum">300</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tonsori Licino conmiserit. O ego laevus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Qui purgor bilem sub verni temporis horam?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Non alius faceret meliora poëmata: verum<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span> -<span class="i0">Nil tanti est. ergo fungar vice cotis, acutum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reddere quae ferrum valet, exsors ipsa secandi. <span class="linenum">305</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Munus et officium, nil scribens ipse, docebo;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unde parentur opes: quid alat formetque poëtam;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quid deceat, quid non; quo virtus, quo ferat error.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scribendi recte, sapere est et principium et fons.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rem tibi Socraticae poterunt ostendere chartae: <span class="linenum">310</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Verbaque provisam rem non invita sequentur.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Qui didicit patriae quid debeat, et quid amicis;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quo sit amore parens, quo frater amandus et hospes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quod sit conscripti, quod judicis officium; quae<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Partes in bellum missi ducis; ille profecto <span class="linenum">315</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reddere personae scit convenientia cuique.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Respicere exemplar vitae morumque jubebo<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doctum imitatorem, et vivas hinc ducere voces.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">52</span> -<span class="i0">Interdum speciosa locis, morataque recte<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fabula, nullius veneris, sine pondere et arte, <span class="linenum">320</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Valdius oblectat populum, meliusque moratur,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quam versus inopes rerum, nugaeque canorae.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Graiis ingenium, Graiis dedit ore rotundo<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Musa loqui, praeter laudem, nullius avaris.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Romani pueri longis rationibus assem <span class="linenum">325</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Discunt in partis centum diducere. Dicas<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Filius Albini, si de quincunce remota est<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Uncia, quid superet, poterat dixisse, triens? Eu!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rem poteris servare tuam. Redit uncia: quid fit?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span> -<span class="i0">Semis. An haec animos aerugo et cura peculî <span class="linenum">330</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cum semel inbuerit, speramus carmina fingi<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Posse linenda cedro, et levi servanda cupresso?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aut prodesse volunt, aut delectare poëtae;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aut simul et jocunda et idonea dicere vitae.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quicquid praecipies, esto brevis: ut cito dicta <span class="linenum">335</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Percipiant animi dociles, teneantque fideles.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">[Omne supervacuum pleno de pectore manat.]<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ficta voluptatis causa sint proxima veris:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne, quodcumque volet, poscat sibi fabula credi;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Neu pransae Lamiae vivum puerum extrahat alvo. <span class="linenum">340</span><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span> -<span class="i0">Centuriae seniorum agitant expertia frugis:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Celsi praetereunt austera poëmata Ramnes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Omne tulit punctum, qui miscuit utile dulci,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lectorem delectando, pariterque monendo.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hic meret aera liber Sosiis, hic et mare transit, <span class="linenum">345</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et longum noto scriptori prorogat aevum.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sunt delicta tamen, quibus ignovisse velimus:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nam neque chorda sonum reddit, quem volt manus et mens;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poscentique gravem persaepe remittit acutum:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nee semper feriet, quodcumque minabitur, arcus. <span class="linenum">350</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Verum ubi plura nitent in carmine, non ego paucis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Offendar maculis, quas aut incuria fudit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aut humana parum cavit natura. quid ergo est?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ut scriptor si peccat idem librarius usque,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quamvis est monitus, venia caret; ut citharoedus <span class="linenum">355</span><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span> -<span class="i0">Ridetur, chorda qui semper oberrat eadem:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sic mihi qui multum cessat, fit Choerilos ille,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quem bis terve bonum, cum risu miror; et idem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Indignor, quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Verum operi longo fas est obrepere somnum. <span class="linenum">360</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ut pictura, poësis: erit quae, si propius stes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Te capiat magis; et quaedam, si longius abstes:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haec amat obscurum; volet haec sub luce videri,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Judicis argutum quae non formidat acumen:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haec placuit semel; haec decies repetita placebit. <span class="linenum">365</span><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span> -<span class="i0">O major juvenum, quamvis et voce paterna<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fingeris ad rectum, et per te sapis; hoc tibi dictum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tolle memor: certis medium et tolerabile rebus<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Recte concedi: consultus juris, et actor<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Causarum mediocris; abest virtute diserti <span class="linenum">370</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Messallae, nec scit quantum Cascellius Aulus;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sed tamen in pretio est: mediocribus esse poëtis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Non homines, non Dî, non concessere columnae.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ut gratas inter mensas symphonia discors,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et crassum unguentum, et Sardo cum melle papaver <span class="linenum">375</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Offendunt; poterat duci quia coena sine istis:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sic animis natum inventumque poëma juvandis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si paulum summo decessit, vergit ad imum.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ludere qui nescit, campestribus abstinet armis;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Indoctusque pilae, discive, trochive, quiescit; <span class="linenum">380</span><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span> -<span class="i0">Ne spissae risum tollant inpune coronae:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Qui nescit versus, tamen audet fingere. Quid nî?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Liber et ingenuus; praesertim census equestrem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Summam nummorum, vitioque remotus ab omni.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tu nihil invita dices faciesve Minerva: <span class="linenum">385</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Id tibi judicium est, ea mens, si quid tamen olim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scripseris, in Maecî descendat judicis auris,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et patris, et nostras; nonumque prematur in annum,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Membranis intus positis. Delere licebit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quod non edideris: nescit vox missa reverti. <span class="linenum">390</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silvestris homines sacer interpresque Deorum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Caedibus et victu foedo deterruit Orpheus;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dictus ob hoc lenire tigris rabidosque leones.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dictus et Amphion, Thebanae conditor arcis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saxa movere sono testudinis, et prece blanda <span class="linenum">395</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ducere quo vellet. fuit haec sapientia quondam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Publica privatis secernere, sacra profanis;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Concubitu prohibere vago; dare jura maritis;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oppida moliri; leges incidere ligno.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sic honor et nomen divinis vatibus atque <span class="linenum">400</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Carminibus venit. post hos insignis Homerus<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">58</span> -<span class="i0">Tyrtaeusque mares animos in Martia bella<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Versibus exacuit. dictae per carmina sortes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et vitae monstrata via est, et gratia regum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pieriis tentata modis, ludusque repertus, <span class="linenum">405</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et longorum operum finis; ne forte pudori<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sit tibi Musa lyrae solers, et cantor Apollo.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Natura fieret laudabile carmen, an arte,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quaesitum est. Ego nec studium sine divite vena,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nec rude quid possit video ingenium: alterius sic <span class="linenum">410</span><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span> -<span class="i0">Altera poscit opem res, et conjurat amice.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Qui studet optatam cursu contingere metam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Multa tulit fecitque puer; sudavit et alsit;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Abstinuit venere et vino. qui Pythia cantat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tibicen, didicit prius, extimuitque magistrum. <span class="linenum">415</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nec satis est dixisse, Ego mira poëmata pango:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Occupet extremum scabies: mihi turpe relinqui est,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et, quod non didici, sane nescire fateri.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ut praeco, ad merces turbam qui cogit emendas;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adsentatores jubet ad lucrum ire poëta <span class="linenum">420</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dives agris, dives positis in foenore nummis.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si vero est, unctum qui recte ponere possit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et spondere levi pro paupere, et eripere artis<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span> -<span class="i0">Litibus inplicitum; mirabor, si sciet inter-<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Noscere mendacem verumque beatus amicum. <span class="linenum">425</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tu seu donaris seu quid donare voles cui;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nolito ad versus tibi factos ducere plenum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laetitiae; clamabit enim, Pulchre, bene, recte!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pallescet: super his etiam stillabit amicis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ex oculis rorem; saliet; tundet pede terram. <span class="linenum">430</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ut qui conducti plorant in funere, dicunt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et faciunt prope plura dolentibus ex animo: sic<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Derisor vero plus laudatore movetur.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reges dicuntur multis urguere culullis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et torquere mero quem perspexisse laborant <span class="linenum">435</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">An sit amicitia dignus. si carmina condes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nunquam te fallant animi sub volpe latentes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quintilio si quid recitares: Corrige sodes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hoc, aiebat, et hoc. melius te posse negares,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bis terque expertum frustra? delere jubebat, <span class="linenum">440</span><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span> -<span class="i0">Et male ter natos incudi reddere versus.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si defendere delictum, quam vertere, malles;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nullum ultra verbum, aut operam insumebat inanem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quin sine rivali teque et tua solus amares.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vir bonus et prudens versus reprehendet inertis; <span class="linenum">445</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Culpabit duros; incomptis adlinet atrum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Transverso calamo signum; ambitiosa recidet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ornamenta; parum claris lucem dare coget;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Arguet ambigue dictum; mutanda notabit;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fiet Aristarchus; non dicet, Cur ego amicum <span class="linenum">450</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Offendam in nugis? Hae nugae seria ducent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In mala derisum semel, exceptumque sinistre.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ut mala quem scabies aut morbus regius urguet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aut fanaticus error, et iracunda Diana;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vesanum tetigisse timent fugiuntque poëtam, <span class="linenum">455</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Qui sapiunt: agitant pueri, incautique sequuntur.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hic, dum sublimis versus ructatur, et errat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si veluti merulis intentus decidit auceps<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">62</span> -<span class="i0">In puteum, foveamve; licet, Succurrite, longum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clamet, io cives: non sit qui tollere curet. <span class="linenum">460</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si curet quis opem ferre, et demittere funem;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quî scis, an prudens huc se projecerit, atque<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Servari nolit? dicam: Siculique poëtae<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Narrabo interitum. Deus inmortalis haberi<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dum cupit Empedocles, ardentem frigidus Aetnam <span class="linenum">465</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Insiluit. sit jus, liceatque perire poëtis.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Invitum qui servat, idem facit occidenti.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nec semel hoc fecit; nec si retractus erit jam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fiet homo, et ponet famosae mortis amorem.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nec satis adparet, cur versus factitet; utrum <span class="linenum">470</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Minxerit in patrios cineres, an triste bidental<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moverit incestus: certe furit, ac velut ursus<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Objectos caveae valuit si frangere clathros,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Indoctum doctumque fugat recitator acerbus.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quem vero arripuit, tenet, occiditque legendo, <span class="linenum">475</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Non missura cutem, nisi plena cruoris, hirudo.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>COMMENTARY.</h3> - -<p>The subject of this piece being, as I suppose, <i>one, -viz. the state of the Roman Drama</i>, and common sense -requiring, even in the freest forms of composition, some -kind of <i>method</i>, the intelligent reader will not be surprised -to find the poet prosecuting his subject in a regular, -well-ordered <i>plan</i>; which, for the more exact description -of it, I distinguish into three parts:</p> - -<p>I. The first of them [from v. 1 to 89] is preparatory -to the main subject of the epistle, containing some general -rules and reflexions on poetry, but principally -with an eye to the following parts: by which means it -serves as an useful introduction to the poet’s design, and -opens with that air of ease and negligence, essential to -the epistolary form.</p> - -<p>II. The main body of the epistle [from v. 89 to 295] -is laid out in regulating the <i>Roman</i> stage; but chiefly in -giving rules for tragedy; not only as that was the sublimer -species of the <i>Drama</i>, but, as it should seem, less -cultivated and understood.</p> - -<p>III. The last part [from v. 295 to the end] exhorts to -correctness in writing; yet still with an eye, principally, -to the <i>dramatic species</i>; and is taken up partly in removing -the causes, that prevented it, and partly in directing -to the use of such means, as might serve to promote -it. Such is the general plan of the epistle. In order to -enter fully into it, it will be necessary to trace the poet, -attentively, through the elegant connexions of his own -method.</p> - -<h3>PART I.<br /> - -<small>GENERAL REFLEXIONS ON POETRY.</small></h3> - -<p>The epistle begins [to v. 9] with that general and -fundamental precept <i>of preserving an unity in the subject -and the disposition of the piece</i>. This is further explained -by defining the use, and fixing the character of <i>poetic -licence</i> [from v. 9 to 13] which unskilful writers often -plead in defence of their transgressions against the law -of <small>UNITY</small>. To v. 23 is considered and exposed that particular -violation of <i>uniformity</i>, into which young poets -especially, under the impulse of a warm imagination, -are apt to run, arising from frequent and ill-timed descriptions. -These, however beautiful in themselves, -and with whatever mastery they may be executed, yet, -if foreign to the subject, and incongruous to the place, -where they stand, are extremely impertinent: a caution, -the more necessary, as the fault itself wears the appearance -of a <i>virtue</i>, and so writers [from v. 23 to 25] come -to transgress the <i>rule of right</i> from their very ambition -to observe it. There are two cases, in which this <i>ambition</i> -remarkably misleads us. The <i>first</i> is when it tempts -us to push an <i>acknowledged beauty</i> too far. Great beauties -are always in the confines of great faults; and therefore, -by affecting superior excellence, we are easily -carried into absurdity. Thus [from v. 25 to 30] <i>brevity</i> -is often <i>obscurity</i>; <i>sublimity</i>, <i>bombast</i>; <i>caution</i>, <i>coolness</i>; -and, to come round to the point, a fondness for <i>varying -and diversifying a subject</i>, by means of episodes and descriptions, -such as are mentioned above [v. 15] will -often betray a writer into that capital error of violating -the <i>unity</i> of his piece. For, though variety be a real -excellence under the conduct of true judgment, yet, -when affected beyond the bounds of probability, and -brought in solely to <i>strike</i> and <i>surprize</i>, it becomes unseasonable -and absurd. The several episodes or descriptions, -intended to give that variety, may be inserted in -improper places; and then the absurdity is as great, as -that of the painter, who, according to the illustration of -v. 19, 20, should introduce a cypress into a sea-piece, -or, according to the illustration of the present verse, -who paints a dolphin in a wood, or a boar in the sea.</p> - -<p>2. Another instance, in which we are misled by an -<i>ambition of attaining to what is right</i>, is, when, through -an excessive fear of committing faults, we disqualify -ourselves for the just execution of a <i>whole</i>, or of such -<i>particulars</i>, as are susceptible of real beauty. For not -the affectation of superior excellencies only, but even</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>In vitium ducit</i> culpae fuga, <i>si caret arte</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This is aptly illustrated by the case of a sculptor. An -over-scrupulous diligence to finish single and trivial parts -in a statue, which, when most exact, are only not faulty, -leaves him utterly incapable of doing justice to the more -important members, and, above all, of designing and -completing a <i>whole</i> with any degree of perfection. But -this latter is commonly the defect of a minute genius; -who, having taken in hand a design, which he is by no -means able to execute, naturally applies himself to labour -and finish those parts, which he finds are within -his power. It is of consequence therefore [from v. 38 -to 40] for every writer to be well acquainted with the -nature and extent of his own talents: and to be careful -to chuse a subject, which is, in all its parts, proportioned -to his strength and ability. Besides, from such -an attentive survey of his subject, and of his capacity to -treat it, he will also derive these further advantages -[v. 41] 1. That he cannot be wanting in a proper fund -of matter, wherewith to inlarge under every head: nor, -2. can he fail, by such a well-weighed choice, to dispose -of his subject in the best and most convenient method. -Especially, as to the latter, which is the principal benefit, -he will perceive [to v. 45] where it will be useful to -preserve, and where to change, the natural order of his -subject, as may best serve to answer the ends of poetry.</p> - -<p>Thus far some general reflexions concerning <i>poetical -distribution</i>; principally, as it may be affected by false -notions, 1. Of <i>poetic licence</i> [v. 10] and, 2. Of <i>poetic -perfection</i> [v. 25]. But the same causes will equally -affect the <i>language</i>, as <i>method</i>, of poetry. To these -then are properly subjoined some directions about the -<i>use of words</i>. Now this particular depending so entirely -on what is out of the reach of rule, as the fashion of the -age, the taste of the writer, and his knowledge of the -language, in which he writes, the poet only gives directions -about <i>new words</i>: or, since every language is -necessarily imperfect, about the <i>coining of such words</i>, -as the writer’s necessity or convenience may demand. -And here, after having prescribed [l. 46] a great <i>caution</i> -and <i>sparingness</i> in the thing itself, he observes, 1. [to -l. 49] That where it ought to be done, the better and -less offensive way will be, not to coin a <i>word</i> entirely -new (for this is ever a task of some envy) but, by means -of an ingenious and happy position of a well-known -word, in respect of some others, to give it a new air, -and cast. Or, if it be necessary to <i>coin new words</i>, as it -will be in subjects of an abstruse nature, and especially -such, as were never before treated in the language, that -then, 2. [to l. 54] this liberty is very allowable; but that -the reception of them will be more easy, if we derive them -gently, and without too much violence, from their proper -source, that is, from a language, as the Greek, -already known, and approved. And, to obviate the -prejudices of over-scrupulous critics on this head, he -goes on [from l. 54 to l. 73] in a vein of popular illustration, -to alledge, in favour of this liberty, the examples -of antient writers, and the vague, unsteady nature -of language itself.</p> - -<p>From these reflexions on poetry, at large, he proceeds -now to <i>particulars</i>: the most obvious of which -being the different <i>forms and measures</i> of poetic composition, -he considers, in this view [from v. 75 to 86] the -four great species of poetry, to which all others may be -reduced, <i>the Epic</i>, <i>Elegiac</i>, <i>Dramatic</i>, and <i>Lyric</i>. But -the distinction of the <i>measures</i> to be observed in the several -species of poetry is so obvious, that there can -scarcely be any mistake about them. The difficulty is -to know [from v. 86 to 89] how far, each may partake -of the <i>spirit</i> of other, without destroying that <i>natural -and necessary difference</i>, which ought to subsist betwixt -them all. To explane this, which is a point of great -nicety, he considers [from v. 89 to 99] the case of dramatic -poetry; the two species of which are as distinct -from each other, as any two can be, and yet there are -times, when the features of the one will be allowed to -resemble those of the other. For, 1. Comedy, in the -passionate parts, will admit of a tragic elevation: and, -2. Tragedy, in its soft distressful scenes, condescends -to the ease of familiar conversation. But the poet had a -further view in chusing this instance. For he gets by -this means into the main of his subject, which was dramatic -poetry, and, by the most delicate transition imaginable, -proceeds [from l. 89 to 323] to deliver a series -of rules, interspersed with historical accounts, and enlivened -by digressions, for the regulation and improvement -of the <span class="smcap">Roman Stage</span>.</p> - -<h3>PART II.<br /> - -<small>DIRECTIONS FOR THE REGULATION AND IMPROVEMENT -OF THE ROMAN STAGE.</small></h3> - -<p>Having fixed the distinct limits and provinces of -the two species of the drama, the poet enters directly -on his subject, and considers, I. [from v. 99 to 119] the -properties of the <small>TRAGIC STYLE</small>; which will be different, -1. [to v. 111] according to the <i>internal state and character</i> -of the speaker: thus one sort of expression will -become the <i>angry</i>; another, the <i>sorrowful</i>; this, the -<i>gay</i>, that, the <i>severe</i>. And, 2. [from v. 111 to 119] according -to the outward circumstances of <i>rank</i>, <i>age</i>, <i>office</i>, -or <i>country</i>.</p> - -<p>II. Next [to v. 179] he treats of the <small>CHARACTERS</small>, -which are of two sorts. 1. <i>Old ones, revived</i>: and 2. <i>Invented, -or new ones</i>. In relation to the <i>first</i> [from v. 119 -to 125] the precept is, to <i>follow fame</i>; that is, to fashion -the character according to the <i>received, standing -idea</i>, which tradition and elder times have consecrated; -that idea being the sole test, whereby to judge of it. -2. In respect of the <i>latter</i> [from v. 125 to 128] the great -requisite is <i>uniformity</i>, or <i>consistency of representation</i>. -But the formation of quite <i>new characters</i> is a work of -great difficulty and hazard. For here, there is no generally -received and fixed <i>archetype</i> to work after, but -every one judges, of common right, according to the -extent and comprehension of his own idea. Therefore -[to v. 136] he advises to labour and refit <i>old characters -and subjects</i>; particularly those, made known and authorized -by the practice of Homer and the epic writers; -and directs, at the same time, by what means to avoid -that <i>servility and unoriginal air</i>, so often charged upon -such pieces. I said <i>characters and subjects</i>, for his method -leading him to guard against servility of imitation -in point of <i>characters</i>, the poet chose to dispatch -the whole affair of <i>servile imitation</i> at once, and therefore -[to v. 136] includes <i>subjects</i>, as well as <i>characters</i>.</p> - -<p>But this very advice, about taking the subjects and -characters from the epic poets, might be apt to lead into -two faults, arising from the ill conduct of those poets -themselves. For, 1. [to v. 146] the dignity and importance -of a subject, made sacred by antient fame, had -sometimes occasioned a boastful and ostentatious beginning, -than which nothing can be more offensive. And, -2. The whole story being composed of great and striking -particulars, injudicious writers, for fear of losing any -part of it, which might serve to adorn their work, had -been led to follow the <i>round of plain historic order</i>, and -so had made the disposition of their piece <i>uninteresting -and unartful</i>. Now both these improprieties, which appear -so shocking in the <i>epic poem</i>, must needs, with still -higher reason, deform the <i>tragic</i>. For, taking its rise, -not from the flattering views of the <i>poet</i>, but the real -situation of the <i>actor</i>, its opening must of necessity, be -very simple and unpretending. And being, from its -short term of action, unable naturally to prepare and -bring about many events, it, of course, confines itself -to <i>one</i>; as also for the sake of producing a due <i>distress</i> -in the plot; which can never be wrought up to any -<i>trying</i> pitch, unless the whole attention be made to fix -on <i>one</i> single object. The way to avoid both these faults, -will be to observe (for here the imitation cannot be too -close) the well-judged practice of Homer.</p> - -<p>Having thus considered the affair of <i>imitation</i>, and -shewn how <i>old characters</i>, and, to carry it still further, -<i>old</i> subjects, may be successfully treated, he resumes -the head of <i>characters</i>, and proceeds more fully [from -v. 153 to 179] to recommend it as a point of principal -concern in the drawing of them, to be well acquainted -with the manners, agreeing to the several successive periods -and stages of human life. And this with propriety: -for, though he had given a hint to this purpose before,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Maturusne senex, an adhuc florente juventâ</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Fervidus</i>,<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>yet, as it is a point of singular importance, and a regard -to <i>it</i>, besides other distinctions, must be constantly had -in the draught of every character, it well deserved a separate -consideration.</p> - -<p>III. These instructions, which, in some degree, respect -all kinds of poetry, being dismissed; he now delivers -some rules more peculiarly relative to the case of -the <i>drama</i>. And, as the <i>misapplication of manners</i>, which -was the point he had been considering, was destructive -of <i>probability</i>, this leads the poet, by a natural order, to -censure some other species of misconduct, which have -the <i>same effect</i>. He determines then, 1. [from v. 179 -to 189] The case of <i>representation</i> and <i>recital</i>: or what it -is, which renders some things more fit to be <i>acted</i> on the -stage, others more fit to be <i>related</i> on it. Next, 2. In -pursuance of the same point, <i>viz. probability</i> [to v. 193] -he restrains the use of <i>machines</i>; and prescribes the -number of <i>acts</i>, and of <i>persons</i>, to be introduced on the -stage at the same time. And, 3. lastly, the <i>persona -dramatis</i>, just mentioned, suggesting it to his thoughts, -he takes occasion from thence to pass on to the <i>chorus</i> -[from v. 193 to 202] whose double office it was, 1. To -sustain the part of a <i>persona dramatis</i> in the acts; and, -2. To connect the <i>acts</i> with songs, persuading to good -morals, and suitable to the subject. Further, tragedy -being, originally, nothing more than a <i>chorus</i> or song, -set to music, from which practice the harmony of the -regular chorus in aftertimes had its rise, he takes occasion -to digress [from v. 202 to 220] in explaining the -simplicity and barbarity of the <i>old</i>, and the refinements -of the <i>later</i>, music. The application of this account of -the dramatic music to the case of the tragic chorus, together -with a short glance at the other improvements of -<i>numbers, stile, &c.</i> necessarily connected with it, gives -him the opportunity of going off easily into a subject of -near affinity with this, <i>viz.</i> the <i>Roman satiric piece</i>; -which was indeed a species of tragedy, but of so extraordinary -a composition, as to require a set of rules, -and instructions, peculiar to itself. A point, in which -they agreed, but which was greatly misunderstood or ill-observed -by his countrymen, was the kind of verse or -measure employed in them. This therefore, by a disposition -of the most beautiful method, he reserves for a -consideration by itself, having, first of all, delivered -such rules, as seemed necessary about those points, in -which they essentially differed. He explains then [from -v. 220 to 225] the <i>use and end</i> of the <i>satires</i>, shewing -them to be designed for the exhilaration of the rustic -youth, on their solemn festivities, after the exhibition -of the graver, tragic shews. But, 2. To convert, as far -as was possible, what was thus a necessary sacrifice to the -taste of the multitude into a tolerable entertainment for -the better sort, he lays down [from v. 225 to 240] the -exactest description or idea of this sort of poem; by -means of which he instructs us in the due temperature -and decorum of the satyric style. 3. Lastly, [from v. 240 -to 251] he directs to the choice of proper subjects, and -defines the just character of those principal and so uncommon -<i>personages</i> in this drama, the <i>satyrs</i> themselves. -This being premised, he considers, as was observed, -what belongs in common to this with the regular tragedy -[from v. 251 to 275] the laws and use of the -<i>iambic</i> foot; reproving, at the same time, the indolence -or ill-taste of the Roman writers in this respect, and -sending them for instruction to the Grecian models.</p> - -<p>Having introduced his critique on the <i>stage-music</i>, -and <i>satyric drama</i>, with some account of the rise and -progress of <i>each</i>, the poet very properly concludes this -whole part [from v. 275 to 295] with a short, incidental -history of the principal improvements of the <i>Greek tragedy -and comedy</i>; which was artfully contrived to insinuate -the defective state of the Roman drama, and to -admonish his countrymen, how far they had gone, and -what yet remained to complete it. And hence with the -advantage of the easiest transition he slides into the last -part of the epistle; the design of which, as hath been -observed, was to reprove an <i>incorrectness and want of -care</i> in the Roman writers. For, having just observed -their <i>defect</i>, he goes on, in the remaining part of the -epistle, to sum up the several causes, which seem to -have produced it. And this gives him the opportunity, -under every head, of prescribing the proper remedy for -each, and of inserting such further rules and precepts -for good writing, as could not so properly come in before. -The whole is managed with singular address, as will appear -from looking over particulars.</p> - -<h3>PART III.<br /> - -<small>A CARE AND DILIGENCE IN WRITING RECOMMENDED.</small></h3> - -<p>I. [from l. 295 to l. 323] The poet ridicules that false -notion, into which the Romans had fallen, that <i>poetry</i> -and <i>possession</i> were nearly the same thing: that nothing -more was required in a poet, than some extravagant starts -and sallies of thought; that coolness and reflexion were -inconsistent with his character, and that poetry was not -to be scanned by the rules of sober sense. This they -carried so far, as to affect the outward port and air of -madness, and, upon the strength of that appearance, to -set up for wits and poets. In opposition to this mistake, -which was one great hindrance to critical correctness, -he asserts <i>wisdom and good sense to be the source -and principle of good writing</i>: for the attainment of which -he prescribes, 1. [from v. 310 to 312] A careful study -of the Socratic, that is, moral wisdom: and, 2. [from -v. 312 to 318] A thorough acquaintance with human nature, -<i>that great exemplar of manners</i>, as he finely calls it, -or, in other words, a wide extensive view of real, practical -life. The joint direction of these two, as means of -acquiring moral knowledge, was perfectly necessary. -For the former, when alone, is apt to grow abstracted -and unaffecting: the latter, uninstructing and superficial. -The philosopher talks without experience, and -the man of the world without principles. United they -supply each other’s defects; while the man of the world -borrows so much of the philosopher, as to be able to adjust -the several sentiments with precision and exactness; -and the philosopher so much of the man of the world as -to copy the manners of life (which we can only do by -experience) with truth and spirit. Both together furnish -a thorough and complete comprehension of human -life; which manifesting itself in the <i>just</i>, and <i>affecting</i>, -forms that exquisite degree of perfection in the character -of the dramatic poet; the want of which no warmth of -genius can atone for, or excuse. Nay such is the force -of this nice adjustment of <i>manners</i> [from l. 319 to 323] -that, where it has remarkably prevailed, the success of -a play hath sometimes been secured by it, without one -single excellence or recommendation besides.</p> - -<p>II. He shews [from l. 323 to 333] another cause of -their incorrectness and want of success, in any degree, -answering to that of the Greek writers, to have been the -low and illiberal education of the Roman youth; who, while -the Greeks were taught to open all their mind to glory, -were cramped in their genius by the rust of gain, and, -by the early infusion of such sordid principles, became -unable to project a great design, or with any care and -mastery to complete it.</p> - -<p>III. A third impediment to their success in poetry -[from l. 333 to 346] was their inattention to the <i>entire</i> -scope and purpose of it, while they contented themselves -with the attainment of one only of the two great ends, -which are proposed by it. For the double design of poetry -being to <i>instruct</i> and <i>please</i>, the full aim and glory of -the art cannot be attained without uniting them both: that -is, <i>instructing</i> so as to <i>please</i>, and <i>pleasing</i> so as to <i>instruct</i>. -Under either head of <i>instruction</i> and <i>entertainment</i> the -poet, with great address, insinuates the main art of each -kind of writing, which consists, 1. in <i>instructive</i> or <i>didactic -poetry</i> [from v. 335 to 338] in the <i>conciseness of the -precept</i>: and, 2. in works of <i>fancy</i> and <i>entertainment</i> -[l. 338 to 341] in <i>probability of fiction</i>. But both these -[l. 341 to 347] must concur in a just piece.</p> - -<p>But here the bad poet objects the difficulty of the -terms, imposed upon him, and that, if the critic looked -for all these requisites, and exacted them with rigour, -it would be impossible to satisfy him: at least it was -more likely to discourage, than quicken, as he proposed, -the diligence of writers. To this the reply is [from l. 347 -to 360] that he was not so severe, as to exact a faultless -and perfect piece: that some inaccuracies and faults of -less moment would escape the most cautious and guarded -writer; and that, as he should contemn a piece, that was -generally bad, notwithstanding a few beauties, he could, -on the contrary, admire a work, that was generally -good, notwithstanding a few faults. Nay, he goes on -[from l. 360 to 366] to observe in favour of writers, -against their too rigorous censurers, that what were -often called faults, were really not so: that some parts -of a poem ought to be less <i>shining</i>, or less <i>finished</i>, than -others; according to the light, they were placed in, or -the distance, from which they were viewed; and that, -serving only to connect and lead to others of greater -consequence, it was sufficient if they pleased once, or -did not displease, provided that those others would -please on every review. All this is said agreeably to -<i>nature</i>, which does not allow every part of a subject, to -be equally susceptible of ornament; and to the <i>end of -poetry</i>, which cannot so well be attained, without an -inequality. The allusions to painting, which the poet -uses, give this truth the happiest illustration.</p> - -<p>Having thus made all the reasonable allowances, -which a writer could expect, he goes on to inforce the -general instruction of this part, <i>viz. a diligence in writing</i>, -by shewing [from l. 366 to 379] that a <i>mediocrity</i>, however -tolerable, or even commendable, it might be in -other arts, would never be allowed in this: for which he -assigns this very obvious and just reason; that, as the -main end of poetry is to <i>please</i>, if it did not reach that -point (which it could not do by stopping ever so little -on this side excellence) it was, like indifferent music, -indifferent perfumes, or any other indifferent thing, -which we can do without, and whose end should be to -please, <i>offensive and disagreeable</i>, and for want of being -very good, absolutely and insufferably bad. This reflexion -leads him with great advantage [from l. 379 to -391] to the general conclusion in view, <i>viz.</i> that as -none but excellent poetry will be allowed, it should -be a warning to writers, how they engage in it without -abilities; or publish without severe and frequent -correction. But to stimulate the poet, who, notwithstanding -the allowances already made, might be something -struck with this last reflexion, he flings out [from -l. 391 to 408] into a fine encomium, on the dignity and -excellence of the art itself, by recounting its ancient -honours. This encomium, besides its great usefulness -in invigorating the mind of the poet, has this further -view, to recommend and revive, together with its honours, -the office of ancient poesy; which was employed -about the noblest and most important subjects; the -sacred source, from whence those honours were derived.</p> - -<p>From this transient view of the several species of -poetry, terminating, as by a beautiful contrivance it is -made to do, in the <i>Ode</i>, the order of his ideas carries -him into some reflexions on the power of genius (which -so essentially belongs to the lyric Muse) and to settle -thereby a point of criticism, much controverted among -the ancients, and on which a very considerable stress -would apparently be laid. For, if after all, so much art -and care and caution be demanded in poetry, what becomes -of genius, in which alone it had been thought to -consist? would the critic insinuate, that good poems -can be the sole effect of art, and go so far, in opposition -to the reigning prejudice, as to assert nature to be of no -force at all? This objection, which would be apt to -occur to the general scope and tenor of the epistle, as -having turned principally on <i>art</i> and <i>rules</i> without insisting -much on natural <i>energy</i>, the poet obviates at once -[from v. 408 to 419] by reconciling two things which -were held, it seems, incompatible, and demanding in -the poet, besides the fire of real genius, all the labour -and discipline of art. But there is one thing still wanting. -The poet may be excellently formed by nature, -and accomplished by art, but will his own judgment be -a sufficient guide, without assistance from others? will -not the partiality of an author for his own works sometimes -prevail over the united force of rules and genius, -unless he call in a fairer and less interested guide? -Doubtless it will: and therefore the poet, with the utmost -propriety, adds [from v. 419 to 450] as a necessary -part of this instructive monition to his brother poets, -some directions concerning the choice of a prudent and -sincere friend, whose unbiassed sense might at all times -correct the prejudices, indiscretions, and oversights of -the author. And to impress this necessary care, with -greater force, on the poet, he closes the whole with -shewing the dreadful consequences of being imposed -upon in so nice an affair; representing, in all the -strength of colouring, the picture of a bad poet, infatuated, -to a degree of madness, by a fond conceit of his -own works, and exposed thereby (so important had been -the service of timely advice) to the contempt and scorn -of the public.</p> - -<p>And now, an unity of design in this epistle, and the -pertinent connection of its several parts being, it is presumed, -from this method of illustration, clearly and -indisputably shewn, what must we think of the celebrated -<span class="smcap">French</span> interpreter of Horace, who, after a -studied translation of this piece, supported by a long, -elaborate commentary, minutely condescending to scrutinize -each part, could yet perceive so little of its true -form and character, as to give it for his summary judgment, -in conclusion; “<i>Comme il</i> [Horace] <i>ne travailloit -pas à cela de suite et qu’il ne gardoit d’autre ordre que celui -des matieres que le hazard lui donnoit à lire et à examiner, -il est arrivé delà qu’</i> <small>IL N’ Y A AUCUNE METHODE NI AUCUNE -LIAISON DE PARTIES DANS CE TRAITÉ</small>, <i>qui même n’a -jamais été achevé, Horace n’ ayant pas eu le tems d’y -mettre la derniere main, ou, ce qui est plus vraisemblable, -n’ayant pas voulu s’en donner la peine</i>.” [M. Dacier’s Introd. -remarks to the art of poetry.] The softest thing -that can be said of such a critic, is, that he well deserves -the censure, he so justly applied to the great Scaliger, -<small>S’IL L’AVOIT BIEN ENTENDU, IL LUI AUROIT RENDU PLUS -DE JUSTICE, ET EN AUROIT PARLÉ PLUS MODESTEMENT</small>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">63</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">64</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span></p> - -<h2 id="NOTES">NOTES<br /> - -<span class="medium">ON THE</span><br /> - -ART OF POETRY.</h2> - -<p>The text of this epistle is given from Dr. <span class="smcap">Bentley’s</span> -edition, except in some few places, of which -the reader is advertized in the notes. These, that -they might not break in too much on the thread of -the Commentary, are here printed by themselves. -For the rest, let me apologize with a great critic: -<i>Nobis viri docti ignoscent, si hæc fusius: præsertim -si cogitent, veri critici esse, non literulam alibi -ejicere, alibi innocentem syllabam et quæ nunquàm -male merita de patria fuerit, per jocum et ludum -trucidare et configere; verùm recte de autoribus -et rebus judicare, quod et solidæ et absolutæ eruditionis -est.</i> <span class="smcap">Heinsius.</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>1. <span class="smcap">Humano capiti</span>, &c.] It is seen, in the -comment, with what elegance this first part [to v. -89] is made preparatory to the main subject, agreeably -to the genius of the Epistle. But elegance, in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span> -good hands, always implies <i>propriety</i>; as is the -case here. For the critic’s rules must be taken -either, 1. from the <i>general</i> standing laws of composition; -or, 2. from the peculiar ones, appropriated -to the <i>kind</i>. Now the direction to be fetched from -the former of these sources will of course <i>precede</i>, -as well on account of its superior dignity, as that -the mind itself delights to descend from <i>universals</i> -to the consideration of <i>particulars</i>. Agreeably to -this rule of nature, the poet, having to correct, in -the Roman drama, these three points, 1. a misconduct -in the disposition; 2. an abuse of language; -and 3. a disregard of the peculiar characters and -<i>colorings</i> of its different species, hath chosen to -do this on principles of universal nature; which, -while they include the case of the drama, at the -same time extend to poetic composition at large. -These prefatory, universal observations being delivered, -he then proceeds, with advantage, to the -<i>second</i> source of his art, viz. the consideration of -the laws and rules peculiar to the <i>kind</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>9.—<span class="smcap">Pictoribus atque poetis—Quidlibet -audendi semper fuit aequa potestas.</span>] The <i>modern</i> -painter and poet will observe that this aphorism -comes from the mouth of an objector.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>14. <span class="smcap">Inceptis gravibus</span>, &c.] These preparatory -observations concerning the laws of poetic -composition at large have been thought to glance -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span> -more <i>particularly</i> at the epic poetry: Which was -not improper: For, 1. The <i>drama</i>, which he was -about to criticize, had its rise and origin from the -<i>epos</i>. Thus we are told by the great critic, that -Homer was the first who <i>invented dramatic imitations</i>, -μόνος—ὅτι μιμήσεις δραματικὰς ἐποίησε. -And to the same purpose Plato: ἔοικε μὲν τῶν καλῶν -ἁπάντων τούτων τῶν τραγικῶν πρῶτος διδάσκαλος καὶ -ἡγεμὼν γενέσθαι [Ὅμηρος.] <i>De Rep.</i> l. x. Hence, -as our noble critic observes, “There was no more -left for tragedy to do after him, than to erect a -stage, and draw his dialogues and characters into -scenes; turning in the same manner upon one -principal action or event, with regard to place -and time, which was suitable to a real spectacle.” -[<i>Characterist.</i> vol. i. p. 198.] 2. The several censures, -here pointed at the epic, would bear still -more directly against the tragic poem; it being -more glaringly inconsistent with the genius of the -<i>drama</i> to admit of foreign and digressive ornaments, -than of the extended, episodical <i>epopœia</i>. For both -these reasons it was altogether pertinent to the poet’s -purpose, in a criticism on the <i>drama</i>, to expose the -vicious practice of the <i>epic</i> models. Though, to -preserve the unity of his piece, and for the reason -before given in note on v. 1. he hath artfully done -this under the cover of <i>general</i> criticism.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>19. <span class="smcap">Sed nunc non erat his locus.</span>] If one -was to apply this observation to our dramatic writings, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span> -I know of none which would afford pleasanter -instances of the absurdity, here exposed, than the -famous <span class="smcap">Orphan</span> of Otway. Which, notwithstanding -its real beauties, could hardly have taken so -prodigiously, as it hath done, on our stage, if there -were not somewhere a defect of <i>good taste</i> as well as -of <i>good morals</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>23. <span class="smcap">Denique sit quidvis: simplex duntaxat -et unum.</span>] Is not it strange that he, who delivered -this rule in form, and, by his manner of delivering -it, appears to have laid the greatest stress upon it, -should be thought capable of paying no attention to -it himself, in the conduct of this epistle?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>25-28. <span class="smcap">Brevis esse laboro, Obscurus fio: -sectantem lenia nervi Deficiunt animique: -professus grandia turget: Serpit humi tutus -nimium timidusque procellae.</span>] If these characters -were to be exemplified in our own poets, of -reputation, the <i>first</i>, I suppose, might be justly -applied to Donne; the <i>second</i>, to Parnell; the -<i>third</i>, to Thomson; and the <i>fourth</i>, to Addison. -As to the two following lines;</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Qui variare cupit rem prodigialiter unam,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Delphinum silvis adpingit, fluctibus aprum</i>:<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>they are applicable to so many of our poets, that, -to keep the rest in countenance, I will but just -mention Shakespear himself; who, to enrich his -scene with that <i>variety</i>, which his exuberant genius -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span> -so largely supplied, hath deformed his best plays -with these <i>prodigious</i> incongruities.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>29. <span class="smcap">Qui variare cupit rem prodigialiter -unam</span>, &c.] Though I agree with M. Dacier that -<i>prodigialiter</i> is here used in a good sense, yet the -word is so happily chosen by our <i>curious speaker</i> -as to carry the mind to that fictitious monster, -under which he had before allusively shadowed out -the idea of absurd and inconsistent composition, in -v. 1. The application, however, differs in this, that, -whereas the monster, there painted, was intended -to expose the extravagance of putting together <i>incongruous -parts</i>, without any reference to a <i>whole</i>, -this <i>prodigy</i> is designed to characterize a <i>whole</i>, -but deformed by the ill-judged <i>position</i> of its <i>parts</i>. -The former is like a monster, whose several members, -as of right belonging to different animals, -could, by no disposition, be made to constitute <i>one</i> -consistent animal. The other, like a landskip, -which hath no objects absolutely <i>irrelative</i>, or irreducible -to a <i>whole</i>, but which a wrong position of -the <i>parts</i> only renders <i>prodigious</i>. Send the <i>boar -to the woods</i>; and the <i>dolphin to the waves</i>; and the -painter might shew them both on the same canvass.</p> - -<p>Each is a violation of the law of unity, and a real -<i>monster</i>: the one, because it contains an assemblage -of naturally <i>incoherent parts</i>; the other, because -its parts, though in themselves <i>coherent</i>, are <i>misplaced</i>, -and disjointed. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>34. <span class="smcap">Infelix operis summa: quia ponere totum -nesciet.</span>] This observation is more particularly -applicable to <i>dramatic</i> poetry, than to any other, -an unity and integrity of action being of its very -essence.—The poet illustrates his observation very -happily in the case of <i>statuary</i>; but it holds of -every other art, that hath a <i>whole</i> for its object. -<i>Nicias</i>, the painter, used to say<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">10</a>, “That the <i>subject</i> -was to him, what the fable is to the poet.” -Which is just the sentiment of <i>Horace</i>, reversed. -For by the <i>subject</i> is meant the whole of the painter’s -plan, the <i>totum</i>, which it will be impossible -for those to express, who lay out their pains so solicitously -in finishing single parts. Thus, to take an -obvious example, the landskip-painter is to draw -together, and form into <i>one</i> entire view, certain -beautiful, or striking objects. This is his main -care. It is not even essential to the merit of his -piece, to labour, with extreme exactness, the <i>principal</i> -constituent parts. But for the rest, a <i>shrub</i> -or <i>flower</i>, a straggling <i>goat</i> or <i>sheep</i>, these may be -touched very negligently. We have a great modern -instance. Few painters have obliged us with <i>finer</i> -scenes, or have possessed the art of combining -<i>woods</i>, <i>lakes</i>, and <i>rocks</i>, into more agreeable pictures, -than <span class="smcap">G. Poussin</span>: Yet his <i>animals</i> are observed -to be scarce worthy an ordinary artist. The -use of these is <i>simply</i> to decorate the scene; and so -their beauty depends, not on the truth and correctness -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span> -of the <i>drawing</i>, but on the elegance of their -<i>disposition</i> only. For, in a landskip, the eye carelessly -glances over the smaller parts, and regards -them only in reference to the surrounding objects. -The painter’s labour therefore is lost, or rather misemployed, -to the prejudice of the <i>whole</i>, when it -strives to finish, so minutely, <i>particular</i> objects. -If some great masters have shewn themselves ambitious -of this fame, the objects, they have laboured, -have been always such, as are most considerable in -themselves, and have, besides, an <i>effect</i> in illustrating -and setting off the entire scenery. It is chiefly -in this view, that Ruisdale’s <i>waters</i>, and Claude -Lorain’s <i>skies</i> are so admirable.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>40.—<small>CUI LECTA POTENTER ERIT RES.</small>] <i>Potenter</i> -i. e. κατὰ δύναμιν, <i>Lambin</i>: which gives a pertinent -sense, but without justifying the expression. The -learned editor of Statius proposes to read <i>pudenter</i>, -a word used by Horace on other occasions, and -which suits the meaning of the place, as well. A -similar passage in the epistle to Augustus adds some -weight to this conjecture;</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i28"><i>nec meus audet</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rem</span> <i>tentare</i> <small>PUDOR</small>, <i>quam vires ferre recusent</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>45. <span class="smcap">Hoc amet, hoc spernat, promissi carminis -auctor—In verbis etiam tenuis cautusque serendis.</span>] -Dr. Bentley hath inverted the order of -these two lines; not merely, as I conceive, without -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">72</span> -sufficient reason, but in prejudice also to the scope -and tenor of the poet’s sense; in which case only I -allow myself to depart from his text. The whole -precept, on poetical distribution, is delivered, as of -importance:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">[<i>Ordinis haec virtus erit et venus, aut ego fallor</i>.]<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And such indeed it is: for, 1. It respects no less than -the constitution of a <i>whole</i>, i. e. the reduction of a -subject into one entire, consistent plan, the most -momentous and difficult of all the offices of <i>invention</i>, -and which is more immediately addressed, in -the high and sublime sense of the word, to the <span class="smcap">Poet</span>. -2. ’Tis no trivial <i>whole</i>, which the Precept had in -view, but, as the context shews, and as is further -apparent from v. 150, where this topic is resumed -and treated more at large, the <i>epos</i> and the <i>drama</i>: -With what propriety then is a rule of such dignity -inforced by that strong emphatic conclusion,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Hoc amet, hoc spernat, promissi carminis auctor</i>:<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><i>i. e.</i> “Be this rule held sacred and inviolate by him, -who hath projected and engaged in a work, deserving -the appellation of a poem.” Were the -subject only the choice or invention of <i>words</i>, -the solemnity of such an application must be ridiculous.</p> - -<p>As for the construction, the commonest reader -can find himself at no loss to defend it against the -force of the Doctor’s objections. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>46. <span class="smcap">In verbis etiam tenuis</span>, &c.] I have said, -that these preparatory observations concerning an -<i>unity</i> of design, the <i>abuse of language</i>, and the -different <i>colourings</i> of the several species of poetry, -whilst they extend to poetic composition at <i>large</i>, -more particularly respect the case of the <i>drama</i>. -The <i>first</i> of these articles has been illustrated in -note on v. 34. The <i>last</i> will be considered in note -v. 73. I will here shew the same of the <i>second</i>, -concerning the <i>abuse of words</i>. For 1. the style of -the drama representing real life, and demanding, -on that account, a peculiar ease and familiarity in -the language, the practice of coining <i>new</i> words -must be more insufferable in <i>this</i>, than in any other -species of poetry. The majesty of the epic will -even sometimes require to be supported by this -means, when the commonest ear would resent it, as -downright affectation upon the stage. Hence the -peculiar propriety of this rule to the dramatic writer,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>In verbis etiam tenuis cautusque serendis</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>2. Next, it is necessary to keep the tragic style, -though condescending, in some sort, to the familiar -cast of conversation, from sinking beneath the dignity -of the personages, and the solemnity of the representation. -Now no expedient can more happily -effect this, than what the poet prescribes concerning -the <i>position</i> and <i>derivation</i> of words. For thus, -the language, without incurring the odium of absolutely -<i>invented</i> terms, sustains itself in a becoming -stateliness and reserve, and, whilst it seems to stoop -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span> -to the level of conversation, artfully eludes the -meanness of a trite, prosaic style.—There are wonderful -instances of this management in the <i>Samson -Agonistes</i> of Milton; the most artificial and highly -finished, though for that reason, perhaps, the least -popular and most neglected, of all the great poet’s -works.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>47. <span class="smcap">Dixeris egregie, notum si callida verbum -Reddiderit junctura novum.—</span>] This direction, -about <i>disposing</i> of old words in such a -manner as that they shall have the grace of <i>new</i> -ones, is among the finest in the whole poem. And -because Shakespear is he, of all our poets, who has -most successfully practised this secret, it may not -be amiss to illustrate the precept before us by examples -taken from his writings.</p> - -<p>But first it will be proper to explain the <i>precept</i> -itself as given by Horace.</p> - -<p>His critics seem not at all to have apprehended -the force of it. Dacier and Sanadon, the two best -of them, confine it merely to the formation of <i>compound -words</i>; which, though <i>one</i> way in which this -<i>callida junctura</i> shews itself, is by no means the -whole of what the poet intended by it.</p> - -<p>Their mistake arose from interpreting the word -<i>junctura</i> too strictly. They suppose it to mean -only the <i>putting together two words into one</i>; this -being the most obvious idea we have of the <i>joining</i> -of words. As if the most <i>literal</i> construction of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span> -terms, according to their etymology, were always -the most proper.</p> - -<p>But Mr. Dacier has a reason of his own for confining -the precept to this meaning. “The question, -he says, is <i>de verbis serendis</i>; and therefore this -<i>junctura</i> must be explained of <i>new</i> words, properly -so called, as compound epithets are; and not of the -grace of novelty which single words seem to acquire -from the art of disposing of them.”</p> - -<p>By which we understand, that the learned critic -did not perceive the scope of his author; which was -manifestly this. “The invention of new terms, -says he, being a matter of much nicety, I had -rather you would contrive to employ known words -in such a way as to give them the effect of new -ones. ’Tis true, new words may sometimes be -necessary: And if so,” &c. Whence we see that -the line,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>In verbis etiam tenuis cautusque serendis</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>is not given here in form as the <i>general rule</i>, and -the following line as the <i>example</i>. On the other -hand, the rule is just mentioned carelessly and in -passing, while the poet is hastening to another consideration -of more importance, and which he even -<i>opposes</i> to the former. “Instead of making new -words, you will do well to confine yourself merely -to old ones.” Whatever then be the meaning of -<i>junctura</i>, it is clear we are not to explain it of such -words as exemplify the rule <i>de verbis serendis</i>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">76</span></p> - -<p>But <i>junctura</i> will best be interpreted by the -<i>usage</i> of Horace together with the <i>context</i>; 1. The -word occurs only once more in this poet, and that -in this very Epistle. It is where he advises a conduct -with regard to the <i>subject-matter</i> of a poem, -analogous to this concerning the <i>language</i> of it.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Ex noto fictum carmen sequar—</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>——tantum series juncturaque pollet.</i><br /></span> -<span class="author">v. 242.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Does he mean <i>the joining two subjects together</i> and -combining them into <i>one</i>, so as that the <i>compound</i> -subject shall be a <i>new</i> one? No such thing; “The -subject, says he, shall be a <i>known</i>, an old one. -Yet the <i>order, management, and contrivance</i> shall -be such as to give it the air of an original fiction.” -Apply now this sense of <i>junctura</i> to words, and we -are only told, that expression may be so <i>ordered</i> as -to appear new, when the words, of which it is made -up, are all known and common.</p> - -<p>We have then the authority of the poet himself -against the opinion of the French critic. But we -have also the authority of his great imitator, or -rather interpreter, Persius; who speaking of the -language of his satires says, in allusion to this passage -of Horace,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“<i>Verba togæ sequeris</i>, juncturâ callidus <i>acri</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="author">S. v. 14.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>i. e. he took up with words of common and familiar -use, but contrived to bring them into his style in -such a manner as to give them the force, spirit, and -energy of satiric expression.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span></p> - -<p>2. Again: the context, as I observed, leads us to -this meaning. The poet in v. 42. had been giving -his opinion of the nature and effect of <i>method</i>, or -orderly disposition in the conduct of a <i>fable</i>. The -course of his ideas carries him to apply the observation -to <i>words</i>; which he immediately does, only -interposing v. 46. by way of introduction to it.</p> - -<p>On the whole then <i>junctura</i> is a word of large -and general import, and the same in <i>expression</i>, as -<i>order or disposition</i>, in a <i>subject</i>. The poet would -say, “Instead of framing new words, I recommend -to you <i>any</i> kind of artful management by which -you may be able to give a new air and cast to old -ones.”</p> - -<p>Having now got at the true meaning of the precept, -let us see how well it may be exemplified in -the practice of Shakespear.</p> - -<p>1. The first example of this <i>artful management</i>, -if it were only in complaisance to former commentators, -shall be that of <i>compound epithets</i>; of -which sort are,</p> - -<table> - <tr> - <td><i>High-sighted Tyranny</i></td> - <td class="tdr">J. C. A. <small>II.</small> S. 2.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><i>A barren-spirited fellow</i></td> - <td class="tdr">A. <small>IV.</small> S. 1.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><i>An arm-gaunt steed</i></td> - <td class="tdr">A. C. A. <small>I.</small> S. 6.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><i>Flower-soft hands</i></td> - <td class="tdr">A. <small>II.</small> S. 3.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><i>Lazy-pacing clouds</i></td> - <td class="tdr">R. J. A. <small>II.</small> S. 2.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p>and a thousand instances more in this poet. But -this is a small part of his <i>craft</i>, as may be seen by -what follows. For this end is attained, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span></p> - -<p>2. <i>By another form of composition</i>; by compound -<i>verbs</i> as well as compound <i>adjectives</i>.</p> - -<p>To <i>candy</i> and <i>limn</i> are known words. The poet -would express the contrary ideas, and he does it -happily, by compounding them with our English -negative <i>dis</i>,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i26">——“The hearts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That pantler’d me at heels, to whom I gave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their wishes, do <i>discandy</i>, melt their sweets<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On blossoming Cæsar—<br /></span> -<span class="author">A. C. A. <small>IV.</small> S. 9.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“That which is now a horse, ev’n with a thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rack <i>dislimns</i>, and makes it indistinct<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As water is in water—<br /></span> -<span class="author">A. C. A. <small>IV.</small> S. 10.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Though here we may observe, that for the readier -acceptation of these compounds, he artfully -subjoins the explanation.</p> - -<p>3. By a liberty he takes of converting <i>substantives</i> -into <i>verbs</i>;</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A glass that <i>featur’d</i> them.<br /></span> -<span class="author">Cymb. A. <small>I.</small> S. 1.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">——Simon’s weeping<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did <i>scandal</i> many a holy tear—<br /></span> -<span class="author">A. <small>III.</small> S. 4.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Great griefs, I see, <i>medicine</i> the less.<br /></span> -<span class="author">A. <small>IV.</small> S. 5.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i22">——that kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I carried from thee, Dear; and my true lip<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath <i>virgin’d</i> it e’er since—<br /></span> -<span class="author">Cor. A. <small>V.</small> S. 3.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Or <i>verbs</i> into <i>substantives</i>;</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i18">——Then began<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A stop i’ th’ chaser, a <i>Retire</i>—<br /></span> -<span class="author">Cymb. A. <small>V.</small> S. 2.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i24">——take<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No stricter <i>render</i> of me—<br /></span> -<span class="author">A. <small>V.</small> S. 3.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i18">——handkerchief<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still waving, as the fits and <i>stirs</i> of’s mind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could best express—<br /></span> -<span class="author">Cymb. A. <small>I.</small> S. 5.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">——Sextus Pompeius<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath giv’n the <i>dare</i> to Cæsar—<br /></span> -<span class="author">A. C. A. <small>I.</small> S. 3.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>4. By using <i>active</i> verbs neutrally,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">——He hath fought to-day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if a god in hate of mankind had<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Destroy’d</i>, in such a shape—<br /></span> -<span class="author">A. C. A. <small>IV.</small> S. 6.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is the bloody business, that <i>informs</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus to mine eyes—<br /></span> -<span class="author">Macb. A. <small>II.</small> S. 2.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And <i>neutral</i> verbs actively,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i26">——never man<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sigh’d truer breath; but that I see thee here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou noble thing! more <i>dances</i> my rapt heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than when I first my wedded mistress saw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bestride my threshold—<br /></span> -<span class="author">Cor. A. <small>IV.</small> S. 4.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">——like smiling Cupids,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With divers-colour’d fans, whose wind did seem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To <i>glow</i> the delicate cheeks which they did cool—<br /></span> -<span class="author">A. C. A. <small>II.</small> S. 3.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>5. By converting <i>Adjectives</i> into Substantives.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i24">——I do not think<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So fair an <i>outward</i> and such stuff within<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Endows a man but him—<br /></span> -<span class="author">Cymb. A. <small>I.</small> S. 1.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span></p> - -<p>6. By converting <i>Participles</i> into Substantives.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He would have well become this place, and grac’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The <i>thankings</i> of a King—<br /></span> -<span class="author">Cymb. A. <small>V.</small> S. 5.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The herbs, that have in them cold dew o’ th’ night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are <i>strewings</i> fitt’st for Graves—<br /></span> -<span class="author">A. <small>IV.</small> S. 5.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i14">——“Then was I as a tree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose boughs did bend with fruit. But, in one night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A storm, or robbery, call it what you will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shook down my mellow <i>hangings</i>——<br /></span> -<span class="author">Cymb. A. <small>III.</small> S. 3.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i16">——Comes in my father,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And like the tyrannous <i>breathing</i> of the North<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shakes all our Buds from blowing——<br /></span> -<span class="author">Cymb. A. <small>I.</small> S. 5.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Which last instance I the rather give for the sake of -proposing an emendation, which I think restores -this fine passage to its Integrity. Before the late -edition of Shakespear it stood thus,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And like the tyrannous breathing of the North<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shakes all our Buds from <i>growing</i>—<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But the sagacious Editor saw that this reading was -corrupt, and therefore altered the last word, <i>growing</i>, -for unanswerable reasons, into <i>blowing</i>. See -Mr. W’s note upon the place. This slight change -gives propriety and beauty to the passage, which -before had no sort of meaning. Yet still all is not -quite right. For, as the great Critic himself observes, -“<i>Breathing</i> is not a very proper word to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span> -express the rage and bluster of the north wind.” -Besides, one does not see how the <i>shaking</i> of these -Buds is properly assign’d as the cause of their not -blowing. The wind might shake off the <i>blossoms</i> of -a fruit tree, i. e. the Buds when they were <i>full-blown</i>; -but so long as the blossom lies folded up in -the Bud, it seems secure from shaking. At least -the <i>shaking</i> is not the <i>immediate</i> cause of the effect, -spoken of; it is simply the <i>cold</i> of the north-wind -that closes the Bud and keeps it from <i>blowing</i>. I -am therefore tempted to propose another alteration -of the text, and to read thus,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And like the tyrannous Breathing of the North<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Shuts</i> all our Buds from blowing—<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>If this correction be allowed, every thing is perfectly -right. It is properly the <i>breathing</i>, the cold breath -of the North, that shuts up the Buds when they -are on the point of blowing. Whence the epithet -<i>tyrannous</i> will be understood not as implying the -idea of <i>blust’ring</i> (an idea indeed necessary if we -retain the word <i>shakes</i>) but simply of <i>cruel</i>, the -<i>tyranny</i> of this wind consisting in imprisoning the -flower in its Bud and denying it the liberty of coming -out into <i>Blossom</i>. The application too of this -comparison, which required the change of <i>growing</i> -into <i>blowing</i>, seems also to require the present alteration -of <i>shakes</i>. For there was no manner of violence -in <i>the father’s</i> coming in upon the lovers. All -the effect was, that his presence <i>restrained</i> them -from that interchange of tender words, which was -going to take place between them. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span></p> - -<p>Thus far I had written in the last edition of these -notes, and I, now, see no cause to doubt the <i>general</i> -truth and propriety of this emendation. Only -it occurs to me that, instead of <small>SHUTS</small>, the poet’s -own word might, perhaps, be <small>CHECKS</small>; as not only -being more like in <i>sound</i> to the word <i>shakes</i>, but as -coming nearer to the <i>traces</i> of the Letters. Besides, -<small>CHECKS</small> gives the precise idea we should naturally -look for, whether we regard the integrity of the -<i>figure</i>—<i>tyrannous</i>—<i>checks</i>—, or the <i>thing</i> illustrated -by it, viz. the abrupt coming in of the father, -which was properly a <i>check</i> upon the lovers. Lastly, -the expression is mended by this reading; for though -we may be allowed to say <i>shuts from blowing</i>, yet -<i>checks from blowing</i>, is easier and better English.</p> - -<p>But to return to other Instances of the Poet’s artifice -in the management of <i>known</i> words. An apparent -Novelty is sometimes effected</p> - -<p>7. By turning <i>Participles</i> into Adverbs—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i16">——<i>tremblingly</i> she stood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on the sudden dropt—<br /></span> -<span class="author">A. C. A. <small>V.</small> S. 5.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>(One remembers the fine use Mr. Pope has made -of this word in,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or touch, if <i>tremblingly</i> alive all o’er—)<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i14">——But his flaw’d heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alack, too weak the conflict to support,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twixt two extremes of Passion, joy and grief,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burst <i>smilingly</i>—<br /></span> -<span class="author">Lear, A. <small>V.</small> S. 8.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span></p> - -<p>8. By <i>figurative terms</i>; i. e. by such terms as -though common in the <i>plain</i>, are unusual in the -figurative application.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i18">——This common Body<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like to a vagabond flag, upon the stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Goes to, and back, <i>lacquying</i> the varying tide.<br /></span> -<span class="author">A. C. A. <small>I.</small> S. 5.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">——When snow the Pasture <i>sheets</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="author">ib<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>To this head may be referred those innumerable -terms in Shakespear which surprize us by their novelty; -and which surprize us generally, on account -of his preferring the <i>specific</i> idea to the <i>general</i> in -the <i>subjects</i> of his Metaphors and the <i>circumstances</i> -of his Description; an excellence in poetical expression -which cannot be sufficiently studied. The -examples are too frequent, and the thing itself too -well understood, to make it necessary to enlarge on -this article.</p> - -<p>9. By <i>plain words</i>, i. e. such as are common in -the figurative, uncommon in the literal acceptation.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Disasters</i> vail’d the Sun—<br /></span> -<span class="author">Ham. A. <small>I.</small> S. 1.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>See the note on the place.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Th’ <i>extravagant</i> and erring spirit hies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To his confine—<br /></span> -<span class="author">ib.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">——Can’t such things be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And <i>overcome</i> us, like a Summer’s cloud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without our special wonder?—<br /></span> -<span class="author">Macb. A. <small>III.</small> S. 5.<br /></span> -</div></div></div><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span></p> - -<p>10. By <i>transposition of words</i>—<i>unauthoriz’d use -of terms</i>—<i>and ungrammatical construction</i>. Instances -in all his plays, <i>passim</i>.</p> - -<p>11. By <i>foreign idioms</i>. ’Tis true these are not -frequent in Shakespear. Yet some Latinisms and -e’en Grecisms we have. As</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Quenched of hope</i>—<br /></span> -<span class="author">Cymb. A. v. S. 5.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And the like. But, which is more remarkable -and served his purpose just as well, the writers of -that time had so <i>latiniz’d</i> the English language; that -the pure <i>English</i> Idiom, which Shakespear generally -follows, has all the air of <i>novelty</i> which other writers -are used to affect by a foreign phraseology.</p> - -<p>The Reader sees, it were easy to extend this list -of Shakespear’s arts in the <i>Callida junctura</i> much -farther. But I intended only a specimen of them; -so much as might serve to illustrate the rule of -Horace.</p> - -<p>It is enough, that we have now a perfect apprehension -of what is meant by <span class="smcap">Callida Junctura</span>; -And that it is, in effect, but another word for <i>Licentious -Expression</i>: The use of which is, as Quintilian -well expresses it, “<i>Ut quotidiani et semper -eodem modo formati sermonis Fastidium levet, et -nos à vulgari dicendi genere defendat</i>.” In short, -the articles, here enumerated, are but so many ways -of departing from the usual and simpler forms of -speech, without neglecting too much the grace of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span> -ease and perspicuity; In which well-tempered licence -one of the greatest charms of all poetry, but -especially of Shakespear’s poetry, consists. Not -that He was always and every where so happy, as in -the instances given above. His expression sometimes, -and by the very means, here exemplified, -becomes <i>hard</i>, <i>obscure</i>, and <i>unnatural</i>. This is -the extreme on the other side. But in general, we -may say, that He hath either followed the direction -of Horace very ably, or hath hit upon his Rule very -happily.</p> - -<p>We are not perhaps to expect the same ability, or -good fortune from others. <i>Novelty</i> is a charm which -nothing can excuse the want of, in works of entertainment. -And the necessity of preventing the tedium -arising from <i>hacknied expression</i> is so instant, -that those, who are neither capable of prescribing -to themselves this Rule of the <i>callida Junctura</i>, or -of following it when prescribed by others, are yet -inclined to ape it by some spurious contrivance; -which being slight in itself will soon become liable -to excess, and ridiculous by its absurdity. I have a -remarkable instance in view, with which the reader -will not be displeased that I conclude this long note.</p> - -<p>About the middle of the 17th century one of the -most common of these mimic efforts was the endless -multiplication of <i>Epithets</i>; which soon made their -poetry at once both stiff and nerveless. When frequent -and excessive use had made this expedient -ridiculous as well as cheap, they tried another, it’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span> -very opposite <i>the rejection of all Epithets</i>, and so -of languid poetry, made rigid Prose. This too had -it’s day. A dramatic Poet of that time has exposed -these opposite follies with much humour. A character -of sense and pleasantry is made to interrogate -a Poetaster in the following manner.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="caption">GOLDSWORTH.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Master <span class="smcap">Caperwit</span>, before you read, pray tell me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have your verses any <span class="smcap">Adjectives</span>?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="caption">CAPERWIT.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Adjectives! Would you have a poem without<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adjectives? They are the flow’rs, the grace of all our language;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A well-chosen Epithete doth give new Soule<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To fainting Poesie; and makes everye verse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Bribe. With Adjectives we baite our lines,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When we do fish for Gentlewomen’s loves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with their sweetness catch the nibbling ear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of amorous Ladies: With the music of<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These ravishing Nouns, we charm the silken tribe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And make the Gallant melt with apprehension<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the rare word: I will maintain ’t (against<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bundle of Grammarians) in Poetry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Substantive itself cannot subsist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without an Adjective.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="caption">GOLDSWORTH.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i22">But for all that,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These words would sound more full, methinks, that are not<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span> -<span class="i0">So larded; and, if I might counsel you,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You should compose a Sonnet, cleane without them.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A row of stately <span class="smcap">Substantives</span> would march,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like Switzers, and bear all the field before them;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Carry their weight, shew fair, like <span class="smcap">Deeds</span> enroll’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not <span class="smcap">Writs</span>, that are first made, and after fill’d:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thence first came up the title of <span class="smcap">Blank</span> verse.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You know, Sir, what <i>Blank</i> signifies? When the Sense<br /></span> -<span class="i0">First fram’d, is tied with Adjectives, like Points,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And could not hold together, without wedges.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hang ’t, ’tis Pedanticke, vulgar Poetry.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let children, when they versifye, sticke here<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there these pidling words, for want of matter;<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Poets</span> write masculine numbers.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="caption">CAPERWIT.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You have given me a pretty hint: ’Tis <small>NEW</small>.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will bestow these verses on my footman;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They’ll serve a Chambermaid—<br /></span> -<span class="author"><span class="smcap">Shirley’s</span> <i>Chances, or Love in a Maze</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>54. <span class="smcap">Cæcilio Plautoque dabit Romanus, ademptum -Virgilio Varioque?</span>] The question is but reasonable. -Yet the answer will not be to the satisfaction -of him that puts it. This humour, we may observe, -holds here in England, as it did formerly at Rome; -and will, I suppose, hold every-where, under the same -circumstances. Cæcilius and Plautus were allowed -to <i>coin</i>, but not Virgil and Varius. The same indulgence -our authors had at the restoration of letters; but -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">88</span> -it is denied to our present writers. The reason is -plainly this. While arts are refining or reviving, -the greater part are forced, and <i>all</i> are content to be -<i>Learners</i>. When they are grown to their usual -height, all affect to be <i>Teachers</i>. With this affectation, -a certain envy, as the poet observes,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">——<i>cur adquirere pauca,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Si possum</i>, invideor—<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>insinuates itself; which is for restraining the privileges -of writers, to all of whom every reader is now become -a Rival. Whereas men, under the first character of -<i>Learners</i>, are glad to encourage every thing that -makes for their instruction.</p> - -<p>But whatever offence may be taken at this practice, -good writers, as they safely may, should <i>dare</i> -to venture upon it. A perfect language is a chimæra. -In every state of it there will frequently be occasion, -sometimes a necessity, to hazard a <i>new</i> word. And -let not a great genius be discouraged, by the fastidious -delicacy of his age, from a sober use of this privilege. -Let him, as the poet directs,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Command <i>old</i> words, that long have slept, to wake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Words, that wise <span class="smcap">Bacon</span>, or brave <span class="smcap">Ralegh</span> spake;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or bid the <i>new</i> be English ages hence,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For <span class="smcap">Use</span> will father what’s begot by <span class="smcap">Sense</span>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This too was the constant language of ancient -criticism. “Audendum tamen; namque, ut ait -Cicero, etiam quæ primò dura visa sunt, usu molliuntur,” -<i>Quintil.</i> l. i. c. v. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>70. <span class="smcap">Multa renascentur, quae jam cecidere.</span>] -This <i>revival</i> of <i>old</i> words is one of those <i>niceties</i> in -composition, not to be attempted by any but great -masters. It may be done two ways, 1. by restoring -such terms, as are grown entirely obsolete; or, 2. by -selecting out of those, which have still a currency, -and are not quite laid aside, such as are most forcible -and expressive. For so I understand a passage in -Cicero, who urges this double use of old words, as an -argument, to his orator, for the diligent study of the -old Latin writers. His words are these: <i>Loquendi -elegantia, quamquam expolitur scientiâ literarum, -tamen augetur legendis oratoribus [veteribus] et -poetis: sunt enim illi veteres, qui ornare nondum -poterant ea, quae dicebant, omnes prope præclare -locuti—Neque tamen erit utendum verbis iis, quibus -jam consuetudo nostra non utitur, nisi quando ornandi -causâ, parcè, quod ostendam; sed usitatis ita -poterit uti, lectissimis ut utatur is, qui in veteribus -erit scriptis studiosè et multum volutatus.</i> [De -Orat. l. iii. c. x.] These <i>choice</i> words amongst such -as are still in <i>use</i>, I take to be those which are employed -by the old writers in some peculiarly strong -and energetic sense, yet so as with advantage to be -copied by the moderns, without appearing barbarous -or affected. [See <span class="smcap">Hor.</span> lib. ii. ep. ii. v. 115.] And -the reason, by the way, of our finding such words -in the old writers of every language, may be this. -When ideas are new to us, they strike us most forcibly; -and we endeavour to express, not our <i>sense</i> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span> -only, but our <i>sensations</i>, in the terms we use to -explain them. The passion of wonder, which Philosophy -would cure us of, is of singular use in -raising the conception, and strengthening the expression -of poets. And such is always the condition -of old writers, when the arts are reviving, or but -beginning to refine. The other use of old terms, -<i>i. e.</i> when become <i>obsolete</i>, he says, must be made -<i>parcè</i>, more sparingly. The contrary would, in -oratory, be insufferable affectation. The rule holds -in poetry, but with greater latitude; for, as he -observes in another place, and the reason of the -thing speaks, <i>hæc sunt Poetarum licentiæ liberiora</i>. -[De Or. iii. 38.] But the elegance of the -style, we are told, is increased both ways. The -reason is, according to Quinctilian (who was perfectly -of Cicero’s mind in this matter. See l. x. c. i.) -<i>Verba à vetustate repetita afferunt orationi majestatem -aliquam non sine delectatione; nam et auctoritatem -antiquitatis habent; et, quia intermissa -sunt, gratiam novitati similem parant.</i> [Lib. i. c. vi. -sub fin.] But this is not all: The riches of a language -are actually increased by retaining its old -words; and besides, they have often a greater real -weight and dignity, than those of a more fashionable -cast, which succeed to them. This needs no -proof to such as are versed in the earlier writings in -<i>any</i> language. A very capable judge hath observed -it in regard of the most admired <i>modern</i> one: <i>Nous -avons tellement laissé ce qui étoit au viel françois, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span> -que nous avons laissé quant et quant la plus part de -ce qu’il avoit de bon.</i> [Trait. préparatif à l’ Apol. pour -Herod. l. i. c. xxviii.] Or, if the reader requires a -more decisive testimony, let him take it in the words -of that curious speaker, Fenelon. <i>Nôtre langue -manque d’un grand nombre de mots et de phrases. -Il me semble même qu’on l’a genée et appauvrie depuis -environ cent ans en voulant la purifier. Il est vrai -qu’elle étoit encore un peu informe et trop verbeuse. -Mais le vieux language se fait regretter, quand -nous le retrouvons dans</i> <span class="smcap">Marot</span>, <i>dans</i> <span class="smcap">Amiot</span>, <i>dans -le Cardinal d’</i><span class="smcap">Ossat</span>, <i>dans les ouvrages les plus enjoues, -et dans les plus serieux. Il y avoit je ne scai -quoi de court, de näif, de vif et de passioné.</i> [Reflex. -sur la Rhetorique, Amst. 1733. p. 4.] From these -testimonies we learn the extreme value, which these -masters of composition set upon their old writers; -and as the reason of the thing justifies their opinions, -we may further see the important use of some late -attempts to restore a better knowledge of our <i>own</i>. -Which I observe with pleasure, as the growing -prevalency of a very different humour, first catched, -as it should seem, from our commerce with the -French models, and countenanced by the too scrupulous -delicacy of some good writers amongst ourselves, -had gone far towards unnerving the noblest -modern language, and effeminating the public taste. -This was not a little forwarded by, what generally -makes its appearance at the same time, a kind of -feminine curiosity in the choice of words; cautiously -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span> -avoiding and reprobating all such (which were not -seldom the most expressive) as had been prophaned -by a too vulgar use, or had suffered the touch of -some other accidental taint. This ran us into periphrases -and general expression; the peculiar bane -of every polished language. Whereas the rhetorician’s -judgment here again should direct us: <i>Omnia -verba (exceptis paucis parum verecundis) sunt alicubi -optima; nam et humilibus interim et vulgaribus -est opus, et quæ cultiore in parte videntur -sordida, ubi res poscit, propriè dicuntur</i>. Which -seems borrowed from Dionysius of Halicarnassus -[περ. συνθεσ. § xii.] οὐδὲν οὕτω ταπεινὸν, ἢ ῥυπαρὸν, ἢ -μιαρὸν, ἢ ἄλλην τινὰ δυσχέρειαν ἔχον ἔσεσθαί φημι λόγου -μόριον, ᾧ σημαίνεταί τι σῶμα ἢ πρᾶγμα, ὃ μηδεμίαν -ἕξει χῶραν ἐπιτηδείαν ἐν λόγοις. However those two -causes, “The rejection of old words, as barbarous, -and of many modern ones, as unpolite,” had so -exhausted the strength and stores of our language, -that, as I observed, it was high time for some master-hand -to interpose and send us for supplies to our -old poets; which, there is the highest authority for -saying, no one ever despised, but for a reason, not -very consistent with his credit to avow: <i>rudem enim -esse omnino in nostris poëtis aut inertissimæ segnitiæ -est aut fastidii delicatissimi</i>. [Cic. de fin. -l. i. c. ii.]</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>72.—<small>SI VOLET USUS</small>, &c.] <i>Consuetudo certissima -loquendi magistra; utendumque planè sermone, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span> -ut nummo, qui publica forma est.</i> [Quinctil. -l. i. c. vi.] imitated from Horace. In <i>Lucian</i> -too, we find it one of the charges brought against -the Pedant, <i>Lexiphanes</i>, that <i>he clipped the standard</i> -<span class="smcap">Coin</span> <i>of the Greek language</i>—σπουδὴν ποιούμενος -ὡς δή τι μέγα ὂν, εἴτι ξενίζοι καὶ τὸ καθεστηκὸς ΝΟΜΙΣΜΑ -τῆς φωνῆς παρακόπτοι (c. 20.)</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>73. <span class="smcap">Res gestae</span>, etc.] The purport of these -lines [from v. 73 to 86] and their connexion with -what follows, hath not been fully seen. They -would express this general proposition, “That the -several kinds of poetry essentially differ from each -other, as may be gathered, not solely from their -different subjects, but their different measures; -which good sense, and an attention to the peculiar -natures of each, instructed the great inventors -and masters of them to employ.” The use made -of this proposition is to infer, “that therefore the -like attention should be had to the different species -of the <i>same kind</i> of poetry [v. 89, &c.] as in the -case of tragedy and comedy (to which the application -is made) whose peculiar differences and correspondencies, -as resulting from the natures of -each, should, in agreement to the universal law of -<i>decorum</i>, be exactly known and diligently observed -by the poet.”</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Singula quæque locum teneant sortita decentem.</i><br /></span> -<span class="author">v. 92.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But, there is a further propriety in this enumeration -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span> -of the several kinds of poetry, as addressed to the -dramatic writer. He is not only to study, for the -purposes here explained, the characteristic differences -of either species of the drama: He must further -be knowing in the other <i>kinds</i> of poetry, so as -to be able, as the nature of his work shall demand, -to adopt the genius of each, in its turn, and to transfer -the graces of universal poetry into the drama. -Thus, to follow the division here laid down, there -will sometimes be occasion for the pomp and high -<i>coloring</i> of the <small>EPIC</small> narration; sometimes for the -plaintive softness and passionate inconnexion of the -<small>ELEGY</small>: and the chorus, if characterized in the ancient -manner, must catch the fiery, inraptured -spirit of the <small>ODE</small>.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Descriptas servare vices operumque colores,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Cur ego, si nequeo ignoroque</i>, <small>POETA</small> <i>salutor?</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Hence is seen the truth of that remark, which there -hath been more than once occasion to make, “That, -however general these prefatory instructions may -appear, they more especially respect the case of -the <i>drama</i>.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>90. <span class="smcap">Indignatur item</span>, etc.—<span class="smcap">coena Thyestae</span>.] -<i>Il met le souper de Thyeste pour toutes sortes de -tragedies</i>, says M. Dacier; but why this subject -was singled out, as the representative of the rest, -is not explained by him. We may be sure, it was -not taken up at random. The reason was, that the -Thyestes of Ennius was peculiarly chargeable with -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span> -the fault, here censured: as is plain from a curious -passage in the <i>Orator</i>; where Cicero, speaking of -the loose numbers of certain poets, observes this, -in particular, of the tragedy of Thyestes, <i>Similia -sunt quædam apud nostros: velut in Thyeste</i>,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Quemnam te esse dicam? qui tardâ in senectute.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><i>et quæ sequuntur: quæ nisi cùm tibicen accesserit</i>, -<small>ORATIONI SUNT SOLUTÆ SIMILLIMA</small>: which character -exactly agrees to <i>this</i> of Horace, wherein the language -of that play is censured, as flat and prosaic, and -hardly rising above the level of ordinary conversation -in comedy. This allusion to a particular play, -written by one of their best poets, and frequently -exhibited on the Roman stage, gives great force and -spirit to the precept, at the same time that it exemplifies -it in the happiest manner. It seems further -probable to me, that the poet also designed an indirect -compliment to <i>Varius</i>, whose Thyestes, we -are told, [<i>Quinctil.</i> l. x. c. i.] <i>was not inferior to -any tragedy of the Greeks</i>. This double intention -of these lines well suited the poet’s general aim, -which is seen through all his critical works, of beating -down the excessive admiration of the old poets, -and of asserting the just honours of the modern. It -may further be observed that the critics have not -felt the force of the words <i>exponi</i> and <i>narrari</i> in -this precept. They are admirably chosen to express -the two faults condemned: the first implying -a kind of pomp and ostentation in the language, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span> -which is therefore improper for the low subjects of -comedy: and the latter, as I have hinted, a flat, -prosaic expression, not above the cast of a common -<i>narrative</i>, and therefore equally unfit for tragedy. -Nothing can be more rambling than the -comment of Heinsius and Dacier on this last word.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>94. <span class="smcap">Iratusque Chremes tumido dilitigat ore: -Et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri.</span>] -It may not be amiss to open a little more -particularly the grounds of this criticism: which -may best be done by a commentary on the following -lines of the poet:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Format enim natura priùs nos intùs ad omnem</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Fortunarum habitum; juvat aut impellit ad iram;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Aut ad humum mærore gravi deducit et angit:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Pòst effert animi motus interprete linguâ</i>:<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>To <i>draw</i> after the life, in any given conjuncture, -the poet must recollect (which may easily be done -by consulting with his own conscious experience) -that <i>peculiar disposition</i> of mind, into which the -speaker is, of necessity, carried by the circumstances -of his situation. And the <i>sentiments</i>, which give -the image of this peculiar disposition, are the -genuine lineaments of the character intended.</p> - -<p>But the <i>truth</i> of sentiment may be hurt or effaced -by incongruous language, just as the exactest lineaments -of a portrait are often disguised or lost under -a vicious coloring. To <i>paint</i> then as well as draw -after the truth, it is requisite that a further regard -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span> -be had to the <i>expression</i>. Which again is no great -difficulty for the artist, the same common nature -holding the torch to him, as before. For in entering -into ourselves we find, that as the mind, in any -supposed situation, gives birth to a <i>certain</i> set of -conceptions and sentiments, correspondent to its -true state, and expressive of it: so by attending to -the <i>language</i>, in which those sentiments ordinarily -manifest themselves, we easily perceive they take -<i>one</i> style or manner of expression preferably to every -other. For <i>expression</i>, where false art is not employed -to distort it, gives the just image of our <i>sentiments</i>; -just as <i>these</i>, when nature is not suppressed -or counteracted, are ever the faithful representatives -of the <i>manners</i>. They result, like the -famous <i>Simulacra</i> of Epicurus, as by a secret destination, -from their <i>original forms</i>; and are, <i>each</i>, -the perfect copies of <i>other</i>. All which will be -clearly understood by applying these general observations -to the instances in view.</p> - -<p>The passion of <small>ANGER</small> rouses all the native fire -and energy of the soul. In this disorder, and, as it -were, insurrection of the mental powers, our sentiments -are strong and vigorous; nature prompting us -to liberal and lofty conceptions of ourselves, and a -superior disdainful regard of others. This again determines -the <i>genius</i> of our language, which, to conform -to such sentiments, must be bold and animated; -breaking out into forcible imagery, and -swelling in all the pomp of sounding epithets and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span> -violent figures. And this even amidst the humbler -concerns of private and inferior fortunes:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Iratusque Chremes</i> <small>TUMIDO DILITIGAT ORE</small>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In the passion of <small>GRIEF</small>, on the contrary, the -reverse of this takes place. For the mind, oppressed -and weighed down by its sorrows, sinks into a -weak and timorous despondency; inclining us to -submit, almost without resistance, to the incumbent -affliction; or if we struggle at all with it, it is -only to ease the labouring heart by putting forth -some fruitless sighs and ineffectual complainings. -Thus we find it represented by those perfect masters -of simple nature, the Greek tragedians. So far are -their sorrowing personages from entertaining any -vigorous thoughts or manly resolutions, that they -constantly languish into sad repinings at their present, -and trembling apprehensions of future, misery.</p> - -<p>When these sentiments come to express themselves -in <i>words</i>, what can they be but the plainest -and simplest which the language of the complainant -furnishes? Such negligence, or more properly such -dejection, of sorrow disposes the speaker to take up -with terms as humble as his fortune. His feeble conception -is not only unapt or unable to look out for -fine words and painted phrases; but, if chance throw -them in his way, he even rejects them as trappings -of another condition, and which serves only to upbraid -his present wretchedness. The pomp of -numbers and pride of <i>poetic</i> expression are so little -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span> -his care, that it is well if he even trouble himself to -observe the ordinary exactness of <i>mere prose</i><a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">11</a>. And -this even where the height of rank and importance -of affairs conspire to elevate the mind to more state -and dignity.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Et tragicus plerumque</i> <small>DOLET SERMONE PEDESTRI</small>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Thus far the dramatic writer may inform himself -by entering into his own <i>consciousness</i>, and observing -the sure dictates of experience. For what concerns -the successful application of this rule in <i>practice</i>, -every thing, as is remarked below, [on v. 102.] -must depend on the constitution of his own mind; -which yet may be much assisted by the diligent -study of those writers, who excel most in this way: -in which class all agree to give the palm to <span class="smcap">Euripides</span>.</p> - -<p>But here it may not be improper to obviate a common -mistake that seems to have arisen from the too -strict interpretation of the poet’s Rule. <i>Tragic characters</i>, -he says, <i>will generally express their sorrows -in a prosaic language</i>. From this just observation, -hastily considered and compared with the -absurd practice of some writers, it hath been concluded, -That what we call <i>pure Poetry</i>, the essence -of which consists in bold figures and a lively imagery, -hath no place on the Stage. It may not be -sufficient to oppose to this notion the <i>practice</i> of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span> -best poets, ancient and modern; for the question -recurrs, how far that practice is to be justified on the -principles of good criticism and common sense. To -come then, <i>to the Reason of the thing</i>.</p> - -<p>The capital rule in this matter is,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Reddere Personæ—convenientia cuique</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But to do this, the <i>Situation</i> of the persons, and the -various <i>passions</i> resulting from such situation, must -be well considered. Each of these has a <i>character</i> -or turn of thinking peculiar to itself. But <i>all</i> agree -in this property, that they occupy the whole attention -of the speaker, and are perpetually offering to -his mind a set of pictures or images, suitable to his -state, and expressive of it. In these the tragic character -of every denomination loves to indulge; as we -may see by looking no farther than on what passes -before us in common life, where persons, under the -influence of any passion, are more eloquent and -have a greater quickness at allusion and imagery, -than at other times. So that to take from the -speaker this privilege of representing such pictures -or images is so far from consulting Nature, that it is, -in effect, to overlook or reject one of her plainest -lessons.</p> - -<p>’Tis true, if <i>one</i> character is busied in running -after the Images which Nature throws in the way -only of some <i>other</i>; or if, in representing such -images as are proper to the character, the Imagination -is taken up in tracing minute resemblances and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span> -amusing itself with circumstances that have no relation -to the case in hand: then indeed the censure -of these critics is well applied. It may be <i>fine poetry</i>, -if you will, but very bad <i>dramatic writing</i>. -But let the imagery be ever so great or splendid, if -it be such only as the governing passion loves to -conceive and paint, and if it be no further dilated -on, and with no greater sollicitude and curiosity, -than the natural working of the passion demands, -the Drama is so far from rejecting such Poetry that -it glories in it, as what is most essential to its true -end and design.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Ille per extentum funem mihi posse videtur</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Ire poeta, meum qui pectus inaniter angit,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Inritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus implet,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Ut magus</i>——<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>An office, which the dramatic poet hath no means -of sustaining but by that strong painting and forcible -imagery, above described.</p> - -<p>What seems to have given a colour to the opposite -opinion, is the faulty practice which good critics -have observed in the <i>French</i> tragedies, and in some -of our own that have been formed upon their model. -But the case is mistaken. It is not the <i>Poetry</i> of -the French or English drama that deserves their -censure, but its prolix and languid <i>Declamation</i>, -neglecting passion for <i>sentiment</i>, or expressing <i>passion</i> -in a calm circuit of words and without spirit. -Even Mr. Addison’s <span class="smcap">Cato</span>, which from being immoderately -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span> -extolled has had the usual fate of being as immoderately -undervalued, is not to be censured for -its abundance of poetry, but for its application of it -in a way that hurts the <i>passion</i>. General sentiments, -uncharacteristic imagery, and both drawn -out in a spiritless, or, which comes to the same -thing, a too curious expression, are the proper faults -of this drama. What the critic of just taste demands -in this fine tragedy, is even more poetry, but better -applied and touched with more spirit.</p> - -<p>Still, perhaps, we are but on the surface of this -matter. The true ground of this mistaken Criticism, -is, The Notion, that when the Hero is at the crisis -of his fate, he is not at liberty to use Poetical, that -is, highly figurative expression: but that the proper -season for these things is when he has nothing else to -do. Whereas the truth is just the contrary. The -figures, when he is greatly agitated, come of themselves; -and, suiting the grandeur and dignity of his -situation, are perfectly natural. To use them in his -cool and quiet moments, when he has no great interests -to prosecute or extricate himself from, is directly -against <i>Nature</i>. For, in this state of things, -he must <i>seek</i> them, if he will have them. And -when he has got them and made his best use of them, -what do they produce? Not sublimity, but Bombast. -For it is not the <i>figures</i>, but the suitableness to the -<i>occasion</i>, that produces either. Not that I am ignorant -that there are vices in the <i>formation</i> of figures, -as well as in their application. But these vices go -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span> -under various other names. The <i>pure simple Bombast</i> -(if I may be indulged so bold a catachresis) arises -from putting figurative expression to an improper use. -To give an instance of what I mean. <span class="smcap">Tacitus</span> writes -under one continued resentment at the degeneracy -of his times, and speaking of some sumptuary Laws -proposed by the Senate, in 2 <i>Ann.</i> c. 33, he says -they decreed, <i>Ne Vestis Serica viros</i> <small>FOEDARET</small>. -This became the dignity of his historic character and -genius. But had his Contemporary, Suetonius, who -wrote Chronicles in the spirit of our <span class="smcap">Stow</span> and <span class="smcap">Holinshed</span>, -used the same language, it would have set -his readers a laughing.</p> - -<p>Not but figurative expression, even when <i>suitable</i> -to the character, genius, and general subject of a -writer, may still be <i>misplaced</i>. Thus, had Tacitus, -speaking of the honours decreed to Tiberius on a certain -occasion, said with his translator Gordon—<i>which -of these he meant to accept or which to reject, the -approaching issue of his days has</i> <small>BURIED</small> <i>in oblivion</i>—the -<i>figure</i>, the reader sees, would have been -miserably out of place; the conceit of the <i>burial</i> of -his intentions, on the mention of his death, being -even ridiculous. But the ridicule, we may be sure, -falls on the translator only, and not on his great original, -who expresses himself on this occasion, not -only with propriety, but with the greatest simplicity—<i>quos -omiserit receperitve</i> <small>IN INCERTO</small> <i>fuit ob propinquum -vitæ finem</i>. Ann. l. vi. c. 45. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span></p> - -<p>I have brought these instances to shew that <i>figurative -expression</i> is not improper even in a fervent -animated historian, on a <i>fit subject</i>, and in <i>due place</i>: -much less should the tragic poet, when his characters -are to be shewn in the conflict of the stronger -passions, be debarred the use of it.</p> - -<p>The short of the matter is, in one word, this. Civil -Society first of all <i>tames us to humanity</i>, as Cicero expresses -it; and, in the course of its discipline, brings -us down to one dead level. Its effect is to make us -all the same pliant, mimic, obsequious things; not -unlike, in a word, (if our pride could overlook the -levity of the comparison) what we see of trained Apes. -But when the violent passions arise (as in the case of -these Apes when the apples were thrown before them) -this artificial discipline is all shaken off, and we return -again to the free and ferocious state of Nature. -And what is the expression of that state? It is (as we -understand by experience) a free and fiery expression, -all made up of bold metaphors and daring figures of -Speech.</p> - -<p>The conclusion is, that Poetry, <i>pure Poetry</i>, is the -proper language of <i>Passion</i>, whether we chuse to -consider it as ennobling, or debasing the human -character.</p> - -<p>There is, as I have said, an obvious distinction to -be made (and to that the poet’s rule, as explained in -this note, refers) between the soft and tender, and -the more vigorous passions. When the former prevail, -the mind is in a weak languid state; and though -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span> -all allusion and imagery be not improper here, yet -as that fire and energy of the soul is wanting, which -gives a facility of ranging over our ideas and of seizing -such as may be turned to any resemblance of our own -condition, it will for that reason be less <i>frequent</i> in -this state of the mind than any other. Such imagery, -too, will for the same reason be less <i>striking</i>, -because the same languid affections lead to, and -make us acquiesce in a simpler and plainer expression. -But universally in the stronger passions the -<i>poetical character</i> prevails, and rises only in proportion -to the force and activity of those passions.</p> - -<p>To draw the whole then of what has been said on -this subject into a standing <span class="smcap">Rule</span> for the observance -of the dramatic Poet.</p> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Man</span> is so formed that whether he be in joy, or -grief; in confidence or despair; in pleasure or pain; -in prosperity or distress; in security or danger; or -torn and distracted by all the various modifications -of Love, Hate, and Fear: The Imagination is -incessantly presenting to the mind an infinite -variety of images or pictures, conformable to his -Situation: And these Pictures receive their various -coloring from the habits, which his birth and -condition, his education, profession and pursuits -have induced. The <i>representation</i> of these is the -<span class="smcap">Poetry</span>, and a <i>just</i> representation, in a great measure, -the <span class="smcap">Art</span>, of dramatic writing.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>95. <span class="smcap">Et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone -pedestri.</span>] Dr. Bentley connects this with the following -line:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>[Et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Telephus aut Peleus</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>for the sake, as he says, of <i>preserving the opposition</i>. -<i>In comædiâ iratus Chremes tumido, in tragædiâ -Telephus pauper humili sermone utitur.</i> This is -specious; but, if the reader attends, he will perceive, -that the opposition is better preserved without his -connection. For it will stand thus: The poet first -asserts of comedy at large, <i>that it sometimes raises -its voice</i>,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Interdum tamen et vocem comædia tollit</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Next, he confirms this general remark, by appealing -to a particular instance,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Iratusque Chremes tumido dilitigat ore</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Exactness of <i>opposition</i> will require the same method -to be observed in speaking of <i>tragedy</i>; which accordingly -is the case, if we follow the vulgar reading. -For, first, it is said of <i>tragedy</i>, that, when grief is to -be expressed, it generally condescends to an humbler -strain,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And then the general truth, as before, is illustrated -by a particular instance,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Telephus aut Peleus, cum pauper et exul uterque,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Projicit ampullas, &c.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span></p> - -<p>There is no absurdity, as the Doctor pretends, in -taking <i>tragicus</i> for <i>tragædiarum scriptor</i>. For the -poet, by a common figure, is made to do that, which -he represents his persons, as doing.</p> - -<p>But this is not the whole, that will deserve the -reader’s regard in this place. A strict attention to -the scope and turn of the passage [from v. 96 to 114] -will lead him to conclude, 1. “That some real tragedy -of Telephus and Peleus was intended in v. -96, in which the characters were duly preserved -and set forth in proper language.” This the opposition -to the <i>Chremes</i> of Terence absolutely demands. -Let us inquire what this might be. <i>Euripides</i>, -we know, composed tragedies under these -names; but it is unlikely, the poet should contrast -the instance of a <i>Greek</i> tragedy to a <i>Latin</i> comedy. -Nor need it be supposed. The subject was familiar -to the Roman poets. For we find a <i>Telephus</i> -ascribed to no less than three of them, <i>Ennius</i>, <i>Accius</i>, -and <i>Nævius</i><a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">12</a>. One of these then I doubt not, -is here intended. But the Roman, in those times, -were little more than translations of the Greek plays. -Hence it is most likely, that the tragedy of <i>Telephus</i> -(and probably of <i>Peleus</i>, though we have not so direct -authority for this) was, in fact, the tragedy of -<i>Euripides</i>, translated into Latin, and accommodated -to the Roman stage, by one of these writers. It -remains only to enquire, if the <i>Telephus</i> itself of -<i>Euripides</i> answered to this character. Which, I -think, it manifestly did, from considering what -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span> -his enemy, the buffoon Aristophanes, hath said concerning -it. Every body knows, that the <span class="smcap">Batraxoi</span> -of this poet contains a direct satyr, and Burlesque -upon <i>Euripides</i>. Some part of it is particularly -levelled against his <i>Telephus</i>: whence we may certainly -learn the objections, that were made to it. -Yet the amount of them is only this, “That he had -drawn the character of <i>Telephus</i> in too many circumstances -of distress and humiliation.” His fault -was, that he had represented him more like a beggar, -than an unfortunate prince. Which, in more candid -hands, would, I suppose, amount only to this, -“That the poet had painted his distress in the most -natural, and affecting manner.” He had stripped -him of his royalty, and, together with it of the pomp -and ostentation of the regal language, the very beauty, -which Horace applauds and admires in his <i>Telephus</i>.</p> - -<p>2. Next, I think it as clear from what follows, -“That some real tragedy of <i>Telephus</i>, and <i>Peleus</i>, -was also glanced at, of a different stamp from the -other, and in which the characters were not supported -by such propriety of language.” Let the -reader judge. Having quoted a <i>Telephus</i> and <i>Peleus</i>, -as examples to the rule concerning the style -of tragedy, and afterwards enlarged [from v. 98 to -103] on the reasons of their excellence, he returns, -with an air of insult, to the same names, apostrophizing -them in the following manner:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Telephe, vel Peleu, male si mandata loquêris,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Aut dormitabo aut ridebo</i>:<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span></p> - -<p>But why this address to <i>characters</i>, which he had -before alleged, as examples of true dramatical <i>drawing</i>? -Would any tolerable writer, after having applauded -Shakespear’s King <i>Lear</i>, as an instance of -the kingly character in distress, naturally painted, -apostrophize it, with such pointed vehemence, on -the contrary supposition? But let this pass. The -Poet, as though a notorious violation of the critic’s -rules was to be thoroughly exposed, goes on, in the -seven following lines, to search into the bottom of -this affair, laying open the source and ground of his -judgment; and concludes upon the whole,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Si dicentis erunt fortunis absona dicta</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Romani tollent equitesque patresque cachinnum</span>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Can any thing be plainer, than that this last line -points at some well-known instance of a Latin play, -which had provoked, upon this account, the contempt -and laughter of the best judges? It may further -be observed, that this way of understanding -the passage before us, as it is more conformable to -what is here shewn to be the general scope of the -epistle, so doth it, in its turn, likewise countenance, -or rather clearly shew, the truth and certainty of -this method of interpretation.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>99. <span class="smcap">Non satis est pulchra</span>, etc.] Dr. Bentley -objects to <i>pulchra</i>, because this, he says, is a general -term, including under it every species of beauty, -and therefore that of <i>dulcis</i> or the <i>affecting</i>. But -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">110</span> -the great critic did not sufficiently attend to the connexion, -which, as F. Robortellus, in his paraphrase -on the epistle, well observes, stands thus: “It is -not enough, that tragedies have that kind of beauty, -which arises from a pomp and splendor of diction, -they must also be pathetic or affecting.” -<i>Objiciat se mihi hoc loco aliquis et dicat, si id fiat</i> -[<i>i. e.</i> si projiciantur ampullæ] <i>corrumpi omnem venustatem -et gravitatem poëmatis tragici, quod nihil -nisi grande et elatum recipit. Huic ego ita respondendum -puto, non satis esse, ut poëmata venusta -sint et dignitatem suam servent: nam dulcedine -quoque et suavitate quâdam sunt conspergenda, ut -possint auditoris animum inflectere in quamcunque -voluerint partem.</i></p> - -<p>But a very ingenious person, who knows how to -unite philosophy with criticism; and to all that is -elegant in <i>taste</i>, to add what is most just and accurate -in <i>science</i>, hath, in the following note, shewn -the very foundation of Dr. Bentley’s criticism to be -erroneous.</p> - -<p>“There are a multitude of words in every language, -which are sometimes used in a <i>wider</i>, sometimes -in a <i>more restrained</i> sense. Of this kind are -καλὸν of the Greeks, the <i>pulchrum</i> of the Romans, -and the words by which they are translated in modern -languages. To whatever subjects these epithets -are applied, we always intend to signify that they -give us <i>pleasure</i>: and we seldom apply them to any -subjects, but those which please by means of impressions -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">111</span> -made on the fancy: <i>including</i> under this -name the reception of images conveyed directly -by the sight itself. As Poetry therefore always -addresses itself to the imagination, every species of -<i>poetical excellence</i> obtains the name of <i>Beauty</i>: -and, among the rest, the power of pleasing us by -affecting the <i>passions</i>; an effect which intirely depends -on the various images presented to our view. -In this sense of the word <i>beautiful</i>, it cannot be opposed -to <i>pathetic</i>. <i>Pulchrum enim quascunque -carminis virtutes, etiam ipsam</i> dulcedinem, <i>in se -continere meritò videatur.</i></p> - -<p>But nothing, I think, can be plainer, than that -this epithet is often used more <i>determinately</i>. Visible -forms are not merely occasions of pleasure, in -common with other objects, but they produce a -pleasure of a singular kind. And the power they -have of producing it, is properly denominated by -the name of <i>Beauty</i>. Whether Regularity and Variety -have been rightly assigned, as the circumstances -on which it depends, is a question, which in -this place we need not consider. It cannot at least -be denied, that we make a distinction among the -objects of sight, when the things themselves are removed -from our view: and that we annex the names -of Beauty and Deformity to different objects and -different pictures, in consequence of these perceptions. -I ask then, what is meant, when the words -are thus applied? Is it only that we are <i>pleased</i> or -<i>displeased</i>? This surely cannot be said. For the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">112</span> -epithets would then be applied with equal propriety -to the objects of different senses: and the fragrance -of a flower, for instance, would be a species of beauty; -the bitterness of wormwood a species of deformity.—Do -we then mean, that we receive pleasure and -pain by means of the <i>Imagination</i>? We may indeed -mean <i>this</i>: but we certainly mean <i>more</i> than -this. For the same names are used and applied, in -a manner perfectly similar, by numbers of persons -who never once thought of this artificial method of -distinguishing their ideas. There is then some kind -of perception, common to them and us, which has -occasioned this uniformity in our ways of speaking: -and whether you will chuse to consider the perceptive -faculty as resulting only from habit, or allow it -the name of a <i>Sense</i> of Beauty; whether these perceptions -can, or cannot, be resolved into some -<i>general</i> principle, imagination of private advantage, -or sympathy with others, are, in the present case, -circumstances wholly indifferent.</p> - -<p>If it be admitted that the epithets, of which we -are speaking, were originally used in this restrained -sense, it is easy to see that they would readily obtain -the more <i>extended</i> signification. For the species of -pleasure to which they were first confined, was -found always to arise from images impressed on the -fancy: what then more natural, than to apply the -same words to every species of pleasure resulting -from the imagination, and to every species of images -productive of pleasure? Thus the <i>beauty</i> of a human -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">113</span> -person might originally signify such combinations -of figure and colour, as produced the <i>peculiar</i> -perception above-mentioned. <i>Pulchritudo corporis</i> -(says Cicero) <i>aptâ compositione membrorum movet -oculos, et eo ipso delectat, &c.</i>—But from this signification -to the other the transition was easy and -obvious. If every beautiful form gave pleasure, -every pleasing form might come to be called beautiful: -not because the same perceptions are excited -by <i>all</i> (the pleasures being apparently different) but -because they are all excited in the same manner. -And this is confirmed by a distinction which every -one understands between beauties of the <i>regular</i> and -<i>irregular</i> kind. When we would distinguish these -from each other, we call the latter <i>agreeable</i>, and -leave to the former only the name of <i>beautiful</i>: -that is, we confine the latter term to its proper and -original sense.—In much the same manner objects -<i>not visible</i> may sometimes obtain the name of beauty, -for no other reason than because the imagination -is agreeably employed about them; and we may -speak of a beautiful <i>character</i>, as well as a beautiful -<i>person</i>: by no means intending that we have the -same <i>feeling</i> from the one as the other, but that in -both cases we are <i>pleased</i>, and that in both the <i>imagination</i> -contributes to the pleasure.</p> - -<p>Now as every <i>representative art</i> is capable of affording -us pleasure, and this pleasure is occasioned -by images impressed on the fancy; every pleasing -production of art, will of course obtain the name of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">114</span> -beautiful. Yet this hinders us not from considering -beauty as a <i>distinct</i> excellence in such productions. -For we may distinguish, either in a picture or poem, -between the pleasures we receive directly from the -imitation of <i>visible forms</i>, and those which principally -depend on <i>other</i> kinds of imitation: And we -may consider visible forms themselves either as <i>occasions</i> -of pleasure, in <i>common</i> with other objects; or -as yielding us that <i>peculiar</i> delight which they alone -are capable of yielding. If we use the word <i>beautiful</i> -in this <i>limited</i> sense, it is very intelligibly opposed -to <i>pathetic</i>. Images of Groves, Fields, Rocks -and Water, afford us a pleasure extremely different -from that which we find in the indulgence of our -<i>tender affections</i>: nor can there be any danger of -confounding the agreeable perception received from -a masterly statue of an Apollo or a Venus, with that -which arises from a representation of the <i>terrors</i> -men feel under a storm or a plague.</p> - -<p>It is no objection to what has been said, that the -objects we call <i>beautiful</i> may also in some cases be -occasions of <i>passion</i>. The sight, for instance, of a -beautiful person may give birth to the passion of -Love: yet to perceive the beauty and to feel the -passion are two different things. For every beautiful -object does not produce love in every observer, -and the same passion is sometimes excited by objects -not beautiful; I mean not called beautiful by the -persons themselves who are affected by them. And -the distinction between these feelings, would receive -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">115</span> -further confirmation (if indeed there could be any -doubt of it) from observing that people frequently -speak of beauty, and as far as appears intelligibly, -in persons of their <i>own sex</i>; who feel perhaps no -<i>passion</i> but that of <i>envy</i>: which will not surely be -thought the same with the perception of <i>beauty</i>.</p> - -<p>There is then no room for an objection to the text -of Horace, as it stood before Dr. B.’s emendation: -unless it should be thought an impropriety to oppose -two epithets which are <i>capable</i> of being understood -in senses <i>not opposite</i>. But there is not the least -ground for this imagination. For when a word of -uncertain signification is <i>opposed</i> to another whose -signification is certain; the opposition itself <i>determines</i> -the sense. The word <i>day</i> in one of its senses -includes the whole space of twenty-four hours: yet -it is not surely an impropriety to oppose <i>day</i> to -<i>night</i>.—In like manner the words <i>pulchra poëmata</i>, -if we were not directed by the context, might signify -<i>good poems</i> in general: but when the beauty -of a poem is <i>distinguished</i> from other excellences, -this distinction will lead us to confine our idea to -<i>beautiful imagery</i>; and, we know it is agreeable to -the sentiments which Horace expresses in other -places, to declare that this kind of merit is <i>insufficient</i> -in <i>dramatic</i> writers, from whom we expect a -pleasure of very different kind. Indeed the most -exquisite painting, if it is not constantly subordinate -to this higher end, becomes not only insufficient, -but <i>impertinent</i>: serving only to divert the attention, -and interrupt the course of the passions. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">116</span></p> - -<p>It may seem perhaps that the force of a <i>Latin</i> expression -cannot be ascertained from reflections of -this sort, but must be gathered from citations of -particular passages. And this indeed is true with -regard to the <i>peculiarities</i> of the language. But the -question before us is of a different kind. It is a -question of <i>Philosophy</i> rather than <i>Criticism</i>: as -depending on those differences of ideas, which are -marked by similar forms of expression in <i>all</i> languages.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>102. <span class="smcap">Si vis me flere, dolendum est Primum -ipsi tibi</span>:] <i>Tragedy</i>, as<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">13</a> one said, who had a heart -to feel its tenderest emotions, <i>shewed forth the ulcers -that are covered with tissue</i>. In order to -awaken and call forth in the spectator all those sympathies, -which naturally await on the lively exhibition -of such a scene, the writer must have a soul -<i>tuned</i> to the most exquisite sensibility, and susceptible -of the same vibrations from his own created -images, which are known to <i>shake</i> the sufferer in -real life. This is so uncommon a pitch of humanity, -that ’tis no wonder, so few have succeeded in -this <i>trying</i> part of the drama. Euripides, of all -the ancients, had most of this sympathetic tenderness -in his nature, and accordingly we find him -without a rival in this praise. Τραγικώτατος τῶν -ποιητῶν, says Aristotle of him [Περὶ ποιητ. κ. ιγʹ.] -and to the same purpose another great critic, <i>In -affectibus cum omnibus mirus, tum in iis, qui</i> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">117</span> -<small>MISERATIONE</small> <i>constant, facile præcipuus</i>. [Quinct. -l. x. c. i.] They, who apply themselves to express -the <i>pitiable</i> ἐλεεινὸν in tragedy, would do well to -examine their own hearts by this rule, before they -presume to practise upon those of others. See, further, -this remark applied by Cicero to the subject of -oratory, and inforced with his usual elegance and -good sense. [l. ii. c. xlv. <i>De oratore.</i>]</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>103. <span class="smcap">Tunc tua me infortunia laedent.</span>] This -is expressed with accuracy. Yet the truth is, The -more we are <i>hurt</i> with representations of this sort, -the more we are <i>pleased</i> with them. Whence arises -this strange <i>Pleasure</i>? The question hath been -frequently asked, and various answers have been -given to it.</p> - -<p>But of all the solutions of this famous difficulty, -that which we have just now received from Mr. -Hume, is by far the most curious.</p> - -<p>His account in short is, “That the force of imagination, -the energy of expression, the power of -numbers, the charms of imitation, are all naturally -of themselves delightful to the mind; that -these sentiments of beauty, being the <i>predominant</i> -emotions, seize the whole mind, and convert the -uneasy melancholy passions into themselves. In -a word, that the sentiments of <i>beauty</i>, excited by -a good tragedy, are the superior prevailing movements, -and transform the subordinate impressions -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">118</span> -arising from <i>grief</i>, <i>compassion</i>, <i>indignation</i>, and <i>terror</i>, -into one uniform and strong enjoyment.” [<i>See -four Dissertations by</i> D. Hume, <i>Esq. p. 185, &c.</i>]</p> - -<p>I have but two objections to this ingenious theory. -<span class="smcap">One</span> is, that it supposes the impression of grief or -terror, excited by a well-written tragedy, to be -weaker than that which arises from our observation -of the faculties of the writer, the power of numbers, -and imitation. Which to me is much the same -thing as saying, That the sight of a precipice -hanging over our heads makes a fainter impression -on the eye, than the shrubs and wild flowers with -which it happens to be covered. The fact is so far -otherwise, that, if the tragedy be well-written, I -will venture to say, the faculties of the writer, the -charms of poetry, or even the thought of imitation, -never come into the spectator’s head. But he may -feel the effect of them, it will be said, for all that. -True: But unluckily the whole effect of these things -is (and that was my <small>OTHER</small> objection) to deepen the -impressions of grief and terror. They are out of -place, and altogether impertinent, if they contribute -to any other end. So that to say, The impression -of grief and terror from a tragic story, strong as it -is in itself, and made still stronger by the art of the -poet, is a weaker impression, than the mere pleasure -arising from that <i>art</i>, is methinks to account -for one mystery by another ten times greater, and -to make the poet a verier <i>magician</i> than Horace -ever intended to represent him. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">119</span></p> - -<p>This ingenious solution then, being so evidently -founded on the supposition of a <i>false fact</i>, deserves -no further notice. As to the <i>difficulty</i> itself, the -following hints may, perhaps, enable the reader, in -some measure, to account for it.</p> - -<p>1. It is not to be doubted but that we love to have -our <i>attention</i> raised, and our <i>curiosity</i> gratified. -So far the <span class="smcap">Abbé du Bos’</span> system may be admitted.</p> - -<p>2. The representation, however distressful, is -still seen to be a representation. We find our hearts -affected, and even pained, by a good tragedy. But -we instantly recollect that the scene is fictitious; -and the <i>recollection</i> not only abates our uneasiness, -but diffuses a secret joy upon the mind in the discovery -we make that the <i>occasion</i> of our uneasiness -is not real. Just as our awaking from a frightful -dream, and sometimes a secret consciousness of the -illusion during the dream itself, is attended with -pleasure. That so much of <span class="smcap">M. de Fontenelle’s</span> -notion must be admitted, is clear, because children, -who take the sufferings on the stage for realities, -are so afflicted by them that they don’t care to repeat -the experiment.</p> - -<p>But still, all this is by no means a full account -of the matter. For,</p> - -<p>3. It should be considered, that <small>ALL</small> the uneasy -Passions, in the very time that we are distressed -by them, nay, though the occasions be instant and -real, have a secret complacency mixed with them. -It seems as if Providence, in compassion to human -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">120</span> -feeling, had, together with our sorrows, infused a -kind of balm into the mind, to temper and qualify, -as it were, these bitter ingredients. But,</p> - -<p>4. Besides this <i>general</i> provision, the nature of -the <i>peculiar</i> passions, excited by tragedy, is such as, -in a more eminent degree, must produce pleasure. -For what are these, but indignation at prosperous -vice, or the commiseration of suffering virtue? And -the agitation of these passions is even, in real life, -accompanied with a certain delight, which was, no -doubt, intended to quicken us in the exercise of -those social offices. Still further.</p> - -<p>5. To the pleasure <i>directly</i> springing from these -passions we may add another which naturally, but -imperceptibly almost steals in upon us from <i>reflexion</i>. -We are conscious to our own humanity on -these tender occasions. We understand and feel -that it is <i>right</i> for us to be affected by the distresses -of others. Our pain is softened by a secret exultation -in the rectitude of these sympathies. ’Tis true, -this reflex act of the mind is prevented, or suspended -at least for a time, when the sufferings are real, -and concern those for whom we are most interested. -But the fictions of the stage do not press upon us so -closely.</p> - -<p>Putting all these things together, the conclusion -is, That though the impressions of the theatre are, -in their immediate effect, painful to us, yet they -must, on the whole, afford an extreme pleasure, -and that in proportion to the degree of the first -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">121</span> -painful impression. For not only our attention is -rouzed, but our moral instincts are gratified; we -reflect with joy that they are so, and we reflect too -that the sorrows which call them forth and give this -exercise to our humanity, are but fictitious. We -are occupied, in a word, by a <i>great</i> event; we are -melted into tears by a <i>distressful</i> one; the heart is -relieved by this burst of sorrow; is cheared and -animated by the finest moral feelings; exults in the -consciousness of its own sensibility; and finds, in -conclusion, that the whole is but an illusion.</p> - -<p>The sum is, that we are not so properly delighted -<i>by</i> the Passions, as <i>through</i> them. They give <i>occasion</i> -to the most pleasing movements and gratulations. -The art of the poet indeed consists in giving -<i>pain</i>. But nature and reflexion fly to our relief; -and though they do not convert our pain into joy -(for that methinks would be little less than a new -kind of <i>Transubstantiation</i>) they have an equivalent -effect in producing an exquisite joy out of our preceding -sorrows.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>119. <span class="smcap">Aut famam sequere</span>, &c.] The connexion -lies thus: <i>Language</i> must agree with <i>character</i>; -<i>character</i> with <i>fame</i>, or at least with <i>itself</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>123. <span class="smcap">Sit medea ferox invictaque.</span>] Horace -took this instance from Euripides, where the <i>unconquered -fierceness</i> of this character is preserved in -that due mediocrity, which nature and just writing -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">122</span> -demand. The poet, in giving her character, is -content to say of her,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Βαρεῖα γὰρ φρὴν οὐδ’ ἀνέξεται κακῶς<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Πάσχους’<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Δεινὴ γάρ. οὖ τοι ῥᾳδίως γε συμβαλὼν<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ἐχθράν τις αὐτῇ, καλλίνικον οἴσεται.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And she herself, when opening to the chorus her -last horrid purpose, says, fiercely indeed, but not -frantically:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Μηδείς με φαύλην κᾀσθενῆ νομιζέτω<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Μηδ’ ἡσυχαίαν.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And this is <i>nature</i>, which Seneca not perceiving, -and yet willing to write up to the critic’s rule, hath -outraged her character beyond all bounds, and, instead -of a resolute, revengeful woman, hath made -of her a downright fury. Hence her passion is -wrought up to a greater height in the very first -scene of the Latin play, than it ever reaches in the -Greek poet. The tenor of her language throughout -is,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><i>invadam deos,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Et cuncta quatiam</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And hence, in particular, the third and fourth acts -expose to our view all the horrors of sorcery (and -those too <i>imaged</i> to an extravagance) which Euripides, -with so much better judgment, thought fit entirely -to conceal. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">123</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>126. <span class="smcap">Servetur ad imum Qualis ab incepto -processerit, et sibi constet.</span>] The rule is, as -appears from the reason of the thing, and from -Aristotle, “Let an <i>uniformity</i> of character be preserved, -or at least a <i>consistency</i>:” i. e. either let the -manners be exactly the same from the beginning to -the end of the play, as those of Medea, for instance, -and Orestes; or, if any change be necessary, let it -be such as may consist with, and be easily reconciled -to, the manners formerly attributed; as is seen -in the case of Electra and Iphigenia. We should -read then, it is plain,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i16"><i>servetur ad imum</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Qualis ab incepto processerit</i>, <small>AUT</small> <i>sibi constet</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The mistake arose from imagining, that a character -could no other way <i>consist</i> with itself, but by being -<i>uniform</i>. A mistake however, which, as I said, -not the reason of the thing only, but Aristotle’s rule -might have set right. It is expressed thus: Τέταρτον -δὲ τὸ ὁμαλόν. Κᾂν γὰρ ἀνώμαλός τις ᾖ, ὁ τὴν -μίμησιν παρέχων καὶ τοιοῦτον ἦθος ὑποτιθεὶς, ὅμως -ὁμαλῶς ἀνώμαλον δεῖ εἶναι. Ποιητ. κ. ιεʹ. which last -words, having been not at all understood, have kept -his interpreters from seeing the true sense and scope -of the precept. For they have been explained of -such characters, as that of <i>Tigellius</i> in Horace; -which, however proper for satyr, or for farcical comedy, -are of too fantastic and whimsical a nature to -be admitted into tragedy; of which Aristotle must -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">124</span> -there be chiefly understood to speak, and to which -Horace, in this place, alone confines himself. -“’Tis true, indeed, it may be said, that though a -<i>whimsical</i> or <i>fantastic</i> character be improper for -tragedy, an <i>irresolute</i> one is not. Nothing is -finer than a struggle between different passions; -and it is perfectly natural, that in such a circumstance, -each should prevail by turns.” But then -there is the widest difference between the two cases. -<i>Tigellius</i>, with all his fantastic irresolution, is as -<i>uniform</i> a character as that of <i>Mitio</i>. If the expression -may be allowed, its very <i>inconsistency</i> is of -the essence of its <i>uniformity</i>. On the other hand, -Electra, torn with sundry conflicting passions, is -most apparently, and in the properest notion of the -word, <i>ununiform</i>. One of the strongest touches in -her character is that of a high, heroic spirit, sensible -to her own, and her family’s injuries, and determined, -at any rate, to revenge them. Yet no -sooner is this revenge perpetrated, than she softens, -relents, and pities. Here is a manifest <i>ununiformity</i>, -which can, in no proper sense of the expression -lay claim to the critic’s ὁμαλὸν, but may be so -managed, by the poet’s skill, as to become consistent -with the basis or foundation of her character, -that is, to be ὁμαλῶς ἀνώμαλον. And that this, in -fact, was the meaning of the critic, is plain from -the similar example to his own rule, given in the -case of Iphigenia: which he specifies (how justly -will be considered hereafter) as an instance of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">125</span> -ἀνωμάλου, <i>irregular</i>, or <i>ununiform</i>, character, ill-expressed, -or made <i>inconsistent</i>. So that the genuine -sense of the precept is, “Let the manners be -uniform; or, if ununiform, yet consistently so, -or uniformly ununiform:” exactly copied, according -to the reading, here given by Horace. Whereas -in the other way, it stands thus: “Let your -characters be uniform, or unchanged; or, if you -paint an ununiform character (such as Tigellius) -let it be ununiform all the way; <i>i. e.</i> such an irregular -character to the end of the play, as it was -at the beginning; which is, in effect, to say, let -it be <i>uniform</i>:” which apparently destroys the -latter part of the precept, and makes it an unmeaning -tautology with the former.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>127. <span class="smcap">Aut sibi constet.</span>] The <span class="smcap">Electra</span> and <span class="smcap">Iphigenia</span> -of Euripides have been quoted, in the preceding -note, as instances of <i>ununiform</i> characters, -justly sustained, or what Aristotle calls, <i>uniformly -ununiform</i>: And this, though the general opinion -condemns the one, and the great critic himself, the -other; the reader will expect some account to be -given of this singularity.</p> - -<p>1. The objection to Electra, is, that her character -is drawn with such heightenings of implacability and -resentment, as make it utterly incredible, she should, -immediately on the murder of Clytæmnestra, fall -into the same excess of grief and regret, as Orestes. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">126</span> -In confutation of this censure I observe, 1. That the -objection proceeds on a mistaken presumption, that -the distress of Electra is equally violent with that of -Orestes. On the contrary, it is discriminated from it -by two plain marks. 1. Orestes’s grief is expressed -in stronger and more emphatic terms—<i>he accuses -the Gods—he reproaches his sister—he dwells upon -every horrid circumstance, that can inhance the -guilt of the murder</i>. Electra, in the mean time, -<i>confesses the scene to be mournful—is apprehensive -of bad consequences—calmly submits to the just -reproaches of her brother</i>. 2. He labours as much -as possible, to clear himself from the imputation of -the act. She takes it wholly on herself, but, regarding -it rather as her fate, than her fault, comforts -herself in reflecting on the justice of it.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">πατρὸς δ’ ἔτισας φόνον δικαίως.<br /></span> -<span class="author">Act v.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This last circumstance puts the widest difference -between the two cases. The one shews a perfect -distraction of mind, which cannot even bear the consciousness -of its crimes: the other, a firm and steddy -spirit, sensible indeed to its misery, but not oppressed -or astonished by it.</p> - -<p>2. But this measure of grief, so delicately marked, -and, with such truth of character, ascribed to Electra, -ought not, it is further insisted, to have shewn -itself, immediately, on the murder of Clytæmnestra. -But why not? There is nothing in the <i>character of -Electra</i>, <i>the maxims of those times</i>, or <i>in the disposition -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">127</span> -of the drama itself</i>, to render this change -improper or incredible. On the contrary, there is -much under each of these heads, to lead one to expect -it.</p> - -<p>1. <i>Electra’s character</i> is indeed that of a fierce, -and determined, but withal of a generous and virtuous -woman. Her motives to revenge were, principally, -a strong sense of justice, and superior affection -for a father; not a rooted, unnatural aversion -to a mother. She acted, as appears, not from the -perturbation of a tumultuous revenge (in that case -indeed the objection had been of weight) but from -a fixed abhorrence of wrong, and a virtuous sense of -duty. And what should hinder a person of this -character from being instantly touched with the distress -of such a spectacle?</p> - -<p>2. <i>The maxims of those times also favour this conduct.</i> -For, 1. The notions of strict remunerative -justice were then carried very high. This appears -from the <i>Lex talionis</i>, which, we know, was in great -credit in elder Greece; from whence it was afterwards -transferred into the Law of the <small>XII</small> Tables. Hence -<i>blood for blood</i> [αἷμα δ’ αἵματος δανεισμὸς,—as the -messenger, in his account of the death of Ægysthus, -expresses it, Act iv.] was the command and rule of -justice. This the Chorus, as well as the parricides, -frequently insist upon, as the ground and justification -of the murder. 2. This severe vengeance on enormous -offenders was believed, not only consonant -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">128</span> -to the rules of <i>human</i>, but to be the object, -and to make the especial care of the <i>divine</i>, justice. -And thus the ancients conceived of this very case. -<i>Juvenal</i>, speaking of Orestes,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Quippe ille</i> <span class="smcap">Deis auctoribus</span> <i>ultor</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Patris erat cæsi media inter pocula</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="author">Sat. viii.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And to this opinion agrees that tradition, or rather -fiction, of the poets, who, though they represent the -judges of the Areopagus as divided in their sentiments -of this matter, yet make no scruple of bringing in -Minerva herself to pronounce his absolution. <i>Hoc -etiam fictis fabulis doctissimi homines memoriæ -prodiderunt, eum, qui patris ulciscendi causâ matrem -necavisset, variatis hominum sententiis, non -solum divinâ, sed etiam sapientissimæ Deæ sententiâ -absolutum</i> [<span class="smcap">Cic.</span> pro <span class="smcap">Milon.</span>] The venerable council -of Areopagus, when judging by the severe rules -of <i>written</i> justice, it seems, did not condemn the criminal; -and the <i>unwritten</i> law of equity, which the -fable calls the <i>wisdom of Pallas</i>, formally <i>acquitted</i> -him. The murder then was not against <i>human</i>, and -directly agreeable to the determinations of <i>divine</i>, justice. -Of this too the Chorus takes care to inform us:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Νέμει τοι δίκαν θεὸς ὅταν τύχῃ.<br /></span> -<span class="author">Act. iv.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This explains the reason of Electra’s question to -Orestes, who had pleaded the impiety of murdering -a mother,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Καὶ μὲν ἀμύνων πατρὶ, δυσσεβὴς ἔσῃ;<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>the force of which lies in this, that a father’s death -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">129</span> -revenged upon the guilty mother, was equally <i>pious</i> -as just. 3. This vengeance was, of course, to be -executed by the nearest relations of the deceased. -This the law prescribed in judicial prosecutions. -Who then so fit instruments of fate, when that justice -was precluded to them? This is expressed, in -answer to the plea of Orestes, that he should suffer -the vengeance of the Gods for the murder of his -mother; Electra replies,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Τῷ δαὶ πατρῴαν διαμεθῇς τιμωρίαν;<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>i. e. Who then shall repay vengeance to our father? -She owns the consequence, yet insists on the duty of -incurring it. There was no other, to whom the -right of vengeance properly belonged.</p> - -<p>4. Further the pagan doctrine of fate was such, -that, in order to discharge duty in one respect, it -was unavoidable to incur guilt, in another. This -was the case here, Phœbus commanded and fate had -decreed: yet obedience was a crime, to be expiated -by future punishment. This may seem strange to -us, who have other notions of these matters, but was -perfectly according to the pagan system. The result -is, that they knowingly exposed themselves to vengeance, -in order to fulfil their fate. All that remained -was to lament their destiny, and revere the awful and -mysterious providence of their Gods. And this is, -exactly, what Orestes pleads, in vindication of himself, -elsewhere:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ἀλλ’ ὡς μὲν οὐκ εὖ, μὴ λεγ’, εἴργασται τάδε,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ἡμῖν δὲ τοῖς δράσασιν οὐκ εὐδαιμόνως.<br /></span> -<span class="author">Orest. Act. ii.<br /></span> -</div></div></div><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">130</span></p> - -<p>5. Lastly, it should be remembered, how heinous -a crime adultery was esteemed in the old world; -when, as well as murder, we find it punished with -death. The law of the <small>XII</small> Tables expressly says, -<small>ADVLTERII CONVICTAM VIR ET COGNATI, VTI VELINT, -NECANTO</small>. Now, all these considerations put together, -Electra might assist at the assassination of her -mother, consistently with the strongest feelings of -piety and affection. That these then should instantly -break forth, so soon as the debt to justice, to duty, -and to fate was paid, is nothing wonderful. And -this, by the way, vindicates the Chorus from the inconsistency, -by some charged upon it, in condemning -the act, when done, which before they had laboured to -justify. The common answer, “That the Chorus -follows the character of the people,” is insufficient. -For (besides that the Chorus always sustains a moral -character) whence that inconsistency in the -people themselves? The reason was, the popular -creed of those times. It had been an omission of -duty to have declined, it was criminal to execute, -the murder.</p> - -<p>3. The disposition of the drama (whether the most -judicious, or not, is not the question) was calculated -to introduce this change with the greatest probability. -Electra’s principal resentment was to Ægysthus. -From him chiefly proceeded her ill treatment, -and from him was apprehended the main danger of -the enterprize. Now, Ægysthus being taken off -in the beginning of the preceding act, there was time -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">131</span> -to indulge all the movements and gratulations of revenge, -which the objection supposes should precede, -and for a while suspend the horrors of remorse, before -they come to the murder of Clytæmnestra. -This is rendered the more likely by the long parley, -that goes before it; which rather tends to soften, than -exasperate, her resentments, and seems artfully contrived -to prepare the change, that follows.</p> - -<p>On the whole, Electra’s concern, as managed by -the poet, is agreeable to the tenor of her character, -and the circumstances of her situation. To have -drawn her otherwise, had been perhaps in the taste -of modern tragedy, but had certainly been beside -the line of nature, and practice of the ancients.</p> - -<p><small>II.</small> The case of Iphigenia, though a greater authority -stand in the way, is still easier. Aristotle’s -words are, τοῦ δὲ ἀνωμάλου [παράδειγμα] ἡ ἐν Αὐλίδι -Ἰφιγένεια. Οὐδὲν γὰρ ἔοικεν ἡ ἱκετεύουσα τῇ ὑστέρᾳ, -i. e. “Iphigenia is an instance of the inconsistent -character: for there is no probable conformity betwixt -her fears and supplications at first, and her -firmness and resolution afterwards.” But how -doth this appear, independently of the name of this -great critic? Iphigenia is drawn indeed, at first, -fearful and suppliant: and surely with the greatest -observance of nature. The account of her destination -to the altar was sudden, and without the least -preparation; and, as Lucretius well observes, in -commenting her case, <small>NUBENDI TEMPORE IN IPSO</small>; -when her thoughts were all employed, and, according -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">132</span> -to the simplicity of those times, confessed to be -so, on her promised nuptials. The cause of such -destination too, as appeared at first, was the private -family interest of Menelaus. All this justifies, or -rather demands, the strongest expression of female -fear and weakness. “But she afterwards recants -and voluntarily devotes herself to the altar.” And -this, with the same strict attention to probability. -She had now informed herself of the importance of -the case. Her devotement was the demand of Apollo, -and the joint petition of all Greece. The glory -of her country, the dignity and interest of her family, -the life of the generous Achilles, and her own -future fame, were, all, nearly concerned in it. All -this considered, together with the high, heroic sentiments -of those times, and the superior merit, as -was believed, of voluntary devotement, Iphigenia’s -character must have been very unfit for the distress -of a whole tragedy to turn upon, if she had not, in -the end, discovered the readiest submission to her -appointment. But, to shew with what wonderful -propriety the poet knew to sustain his characters, -we find her, after all, and notwithstanding the heroism -of the change, in a strong and passionate -apostrophe to her native Mycenæ, confessing some -involuntary apprehensions and regrets, the remains -of that instinctive abhorrence of death, which had -before so strongly possessed her.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ἔθρεψας Ἑλλάδι μέγα φάος—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">θανοῦσα δ’ οὐκ ἀναίνομαι.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">133</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once the bright star of Greece—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I submit to die.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This, I take to be not only a full vindication of the -consistency of Iphigenia’s character, but as delicate -a stroke of nature, as is, perhaps, to be found in -any writer.</p> - -<p>After the writing of this note, I was pleased to -find, that so sensible a critic, as P. Brumoi, had -been before me in these sentiments concerning the -character of Iphigenia. The reasons he employs, -are nearly the same. Only he confirms them all by -shewing, that the Iphigenia of Racine, which is modelled, -not according to the practice of Euripides, -but the Comment of Aristotle, is, in all respects, so -much the worse for it. In justice to this ingenious -writer, it should be owned, that he is almost the -only one of his nation, who hath perfectly seen -through the foppery, or, as some affect to esteem -it, the refinement of French manners. This hath -enabled him to give us, in his <i>Théatre des Grecs</i>, -a masterly and very useful view of the Greek stage; -set forth in all its genuine simplicity, and defended -on the sure principles of nature and common sense.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>128. <span class="smcap">Difficile est proprie communia dicere</span>: -Lambin’s Comment is <i>Communia hoc loco appellat -Horatius argumenta fabularum à nullo adhuc tractata: -et ita, quæ cuivis exposita sunt et in medio -quodammodo posita, quasi vacua et à nemine occupata</i>. -And that this is the true meaning of <i>communia</i> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">134</span> -is evidently fixed by the words <i>ignota indictaque</i>, -which are explanatory of it: so that the sense, -given it in the commentary, is unquestionably the -right one. Yet, notwithstanding the clearness of -the case, a late critic hath this strange passage: <i>Difficile -quidem esse proprie communia dicere, hoc est, -materiam vulgarem, notam, et è medio petitam ita -immutare atque exornare, ut nova et scriptori propria -videatur, ultro concedimus; et maximi proculdubio -ponderis ista est observatio. Sed omnibus -utrinque collatis, et tum difficilis, tum venusti, -tam judicii quam ingenii ratione habita, major videtur -esse gloria fabulam formare penitus novam, -quam veterem, utcunque mutatam, de novo exhibere.</i> -[Poet. Præl. v. ii. p. 164.] Where having first, -put a wrong construction on the word <i>communia</i>, -he imploys it to introduce an impertinent criticism. -For where does the poet prefer the glory of refitting -<i>old</i> subjects, to that of inventing new ones? The -contrary is implied in what he urges about the superior -difficulty of the latter; from which he dissuades -his countrymen, only in respect of their abilities -and inexperience in these matters; and in -order to cultivate in them, which is the main view of -the Epistle, a spirit of correctness, by sending them -to the old subjects, treated by the Greek writers.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>131. <span class="smcap">Publica materies privati Juris erit</span>, &c.] -<i>Publica materies</i> is just the reverse of what the poet -had before stiled <i>communia</i>; the latter meaning -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">135</span> -such subjects or characters, as, though by their nature -left in common to all, had yet, in fact, not -been <i>occupied</i> by any writer—the former those, -which had already been made <i>public</i> by <i>occupation</i>. -In order to acquire a property in subjects of this -sort, the poet directs us to observe the three following -cautions: 1. <i>Not to follow the trite, obvious -round of the original work</i>, i. e. not servilely and -scrupulously to adhere to its plan or method. 2. -<i>Not to be translators, instead of imitators</i>, i. e. if -it shall be thought fit to imitate more expressly any -part of the original, to do it with freedom and spirit, -and without a slavish attachment to the mode of expression. -3. <i>Not to adopt any particular incident, -that may occur in the proposed model, which either -decency or the nature of the work would reject.</i> -M. Dacier illustrates these rules, which have been -conceived to contain no small difficulty, from the -Iliad; to which the poet himself refers, and probably -not without an eye to particular instances of the -errors, here condemned, in the Latin tragedies. -For want of these, it may be of use to fetch an illustration -from some examples in our own. And we -need not look far for them. Almost every modern -play affords an instance of one or other of these -faults. The single one of Catiline by B. Jonson -is, itself, a specimen of them all. This tragedy, -which hath otherwise great merit, and on which its -author appears to have placed no small value, is, in -fact, the Catilinarian war of Sallust, put into poetical -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">136</span> -dialogue, and so offends against the <i>first</i> rule of -the poet, <i>in following too servilely the plain beaten -round of the Chronicle</i>. 2. Next, the speeches of -Cicero and Catiline, of Cato and Cæsar are, all of -them, direct and literal translations of the historian -and orator, in violation of the <i>second</i> rule, which -forbids <i>a too close attachment to the mode, or form -of expression</i>. 3. There are several transgressions of -that rule, which injoins <i>a strict regard to the nature -and genius of the work</i>. One is obvious and -striking. In the history, which had, for its subject, -the whole Catilinarian war, the fates of the conspirators -were distinctly to be recorded, and the preceding -debates, concerning the manner of their punishment, -afforded an occasion, too inviting to be -overlooked by an historian, and above all a republican -historian, of embellishing his narration by set -harangues. Hence the long speeches of Cæsar and -Cato in the senate have great propriety, and are -justly esteemed among the leading beauties of that -work. But the case was totally different in the -drama; which, taking for its subject the single fate -of Catiline, had no concern with the other conspirators, -whose fates at most should only have been -hinted at, not debated with all the circumstance and -pomp of rhetoric on the stage. Nothing can be -more flat and disgusting, than this calm, impertinent -pleading; especially in the very heat and -winding up of the plot. But the poet was misled -by the beauty it appeared to have in the original -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">137</span> -composition, without attending to the peculiar laws -of the drama, and the <i>indecorum</i> it must needs have -in so very different a work.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>136. <span class="smcap">Nec sic incipies, ut scriptor cyclicus -olim</span>:] All this [to v. 153] is a continuation of the -poet’s advice, given above,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Rectius Iliacum carmen deducis in actus</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Quam si proferres ignota indictaque primus</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>For, having first shewn in what respects a close observance -of the epic form would be vicious in tragedy, -he now prescribes how far it may be usefully -admitted. And this is, 1. [from 136 to 146] in -the simplicity and modesty of the exordium; and, -2. [to v. 153] in the artificial method and contexture -of the piece. 1. The reason of the former rule -is founded on the impropriety of raising a greater -expectation, at setting out, than can afterwards be -answered by the sequel of the poem. But, because -the epic writers themselves, from whom this conduct -was to be drawn, had sometimes transgressed -this rule, and as the example of such an error would -be likely to infect, and, in all probability, actually -did infect, the tragic poets of that time, he takes -occasion, 1. to criticize an absurd instance of it; -and, 2. to oppose to it the wiser practice of Homer.</p> - -<p>2. The like conduct he observes under the second -article. For, being to recommend to the tragic -writer such an artificial disposition of his subject, as -<i>hastens rapidly to the event</i>, and rejects, as impertinent, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">138</span> -all particulars in the round of the story, -which would unnecessarily obstruct his course to it—a -plan essentially necessary to the legitimate -epic—he first glances at the injudicious violation of -this method in a certain poem on <i>the return of</i> Diomed, -and then illustrates and lays open the superior -art and beauty of the Iliad. And all this, as appears, -for the sole purpose of explaining and enforcing -the precept about forming the plots of tragedies -from epic poems. Whence we see, how properly -the examples of the errors, here condemned, are -taken, not from the <i>drama</i>, as the less attentive -reader might expect, but solely from the epos; for, -<i>this</i> being made the object of imitation to the dramatic -poet, as the tenor of the place shews, it became -necessary to guard against the influence of bad -models. Which I observe for the sake of those, -who, from not apprehending the connection of this -and such like passages in the epistle, hastily conclude -it to be a confused medley of precepts concerning -the art of poetry, in general; and not a regular -well-conducted piece, uniformly tending to lay -open the state, and to remedy the defects, of the -Roman stage.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>148. <span class="smcap">Semper ad eventum festinat</span>; &c.] The -disposition, here recommended to the poet, might -be shewn <i>universally</i> right from the clearest principles. -But the propriety and beauty of it will, perhaps, -be best apprehended by such, as are unused -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">139</span> -to the more abstract criticism, from attending to a -<i>particular</i> instance. Let us conceive an objector -then to put the following query: “Supposing the -author of the Æneis to have related, in the natural -order, the destruction of Troy, would not the -subject have been, to all intents and purposes, as -much <i>one</i>, as it is under its present form; in -which that event is told, in the second book, by -way of episode?” I answer by no means. The -reason is taken from <i>the nature of the work</i>, and -from <i>the state and expectations of the reader</i>.</p> - -<p>1. The <i>nature of an epic or narrative poem</i> is -this, that it lays the author under an obligation of -shewing any event, which he formally undertakes in -his own person, at full length, and with all its material -circumstances. Every figure must be drawn -in full proportion, and exhibited in strong, glowing -colours. Now had the subject of the second book -of the Æneis been related, in this extent, it must -not only have taken up one, but many books. By -this faithful and animated <i>drawing</i>, and the time it -would necessarily have to <i>play</i> upon the imagination, -the event had grown into such importance, -that the remainder could only have passed for a kind -of Appendix to it.</p> - -<p>2. The same conclusion is drawn from considering -<i>the state of the reader</i>. For, hurried away by -an instinctive impatience, he pursues the proposed -event with eagerness and rapidity. So circumstantial -a detail, as was supposed, of an intermediate -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">140</span> -action not necessarily connected with it, breaks the -course of his expectations, and throws forward the -point of view to an immoderate distance. In the -mean time the action, thus interposed and presented -to his thoughts, acquires by degrees, and at length -ingrosses his whole attention. It becomes the important -theme of the piece; or, at least, what follows -sets out with the disadvantage of appearing to -him, as a new and distinct subject.</p> - -<p>But now being related by way of episode, that is, -as a succinct, summary narration, not made by the -poet himself, but coming from the mouth of a person, -necessarily ingaged in the progress of the action, -it serves for a short time to interrupt, and, by -that interruption to sharpen, the eager expectation -of the reader. It holds the attention, for a while, -from the main point of view; yet not long enough -to destroy that impatient curiosity, which looks forward -to it. And thus it contributes to the same end, -as a piece of miniature, properly introduced into a -large picture. It amuses the eye with something -relative to the painter’s design, yet not so, as to -with-hold its principal observation from falling on -the greater subject. The parallel will not hold very -exactly, because the painter is, of necessity, confined -to the same <i>instant</i> of time; but it may serve -for an illustration of my meaning. Suppose the -painter to take, for his subject, that part of Æneas’s -story, where, with his <i>penates</i>, his <i>father</i>, and his -<i>son</i>, he is preparing to set sail for Italy. To draw -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">141</span> -<i>Troy in flames</i>, as a constituent part of this picture, -would be manifestly absurd. It would be painting -two subjects, instead of one. And perhaps <i>Troja -incensa</i> might seize the attention before</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Ascanium Anchisenque patrem Teucrosque penates</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But a distant perspective of <i>burning Troy</i> might be -thrown into a corner of the piece, that is, episodically, -with good advantage; where, instead of distracting -the attention, and breaking the unity of the -subject, it would concenter, as it were, with the -great design, and have an effect in augmenting the -distress of it.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>153. <span class="smcap">Tu, quid ego et populus</span>, &c.] The connexion -is this. “But though the strict observance -of these rules will enable the poet to conduct his -<i>plot</i> to the best advantage, yet this is not <i>all</i> which -is required to a <i>perfect</i> tragedy. If he would -seize the attention, and secure the applause, of -the audience, something further must be attempted. -He must (to return to the point, from -which I digressed, v. 127) be particularly studious -to express the <i>manners</i>. Besides the peculiarities -of <i>office</i>, <i>temper</i>, <i>condition</i>, <i>country</i>, &c. before -considered, all which require to be drawn with -the utmost fidelity, a singular attention must be -had to the characteristic differences of <i>age</i>.”</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Ætatis cujusque notandi sunt tibi mores.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The reason of this conduct is given in the commentary. -It further serves to adorn this part of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">142</span> -epistle [which is wholly preceptive from v. 89 to -202] with those beautiful pourtraitures of human -life, in its several successive stages, which nature -and Aristotle had instructed him so well to paint.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>157. <span class="smcap">Mobilibusque decor naturis dandus et -annis.</span>] <span class="smcap">Mobilibus</span>] <i>non levibus aut inconstantibus, -sed quæ variatis ætatibus immutantur</i>. Lambin. -<span class="smcap">Naturis</span>] By this word is not meant, simply, -that instinctive <i>natural</i> biass, implanted in every -man, to this or that character, but, in general, <i>nature</i>, -as it appears diversified in the different periods -of life. The sense will be: A certain <i>decorum</i> or -propriety must be observed in painting the natures -or dispositions of men varying with their years.</p> - -<p>There is then no occasion for changing the text, -with Dr. Bentley, into</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Mobilibusque decor, maturis dandus et annis</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>179. <span class="smcap">Aut agitur res in scenis, aut acta refertur</span>: -&c.] The connexion is this. The <i>misapplication</i>, -just now mentioned, destroys the <i>credibility</i>. -This puts the poet in mind of another -misconduct, which hath the same effect, viz. <i>intus -digna geri promere in scenam</i>. But, before he -makes this observation, it was proper to premise a -<i>concession</i> to prevent mistakes, viz.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Segnius irritant animos</i>, &c.<br /></span> -</div></div></div><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">143</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>182. <span class="smcap">Non tamen intus Digna geri promes in -scenam</span>:] I know not a more striking example of -the transgression of this rule, than in Seneca’s Hippolytus; -where Theseus is made to weep over the -mangled members of his son, which he attempts to -put together on the stage. This, which has so -horrid an appearance in the <i>action</i>, might have -been so contrived, as to have an infinite beauty in -the <i>narration</i>; as may be seen from a similar instance -in Xenophon’s Cyropædia, where Panthea -is represented putting together the torn limbs of -Abradates.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>185. <span class="smcap">Ne pueros coram populo</span>, &c.] Seneca, -whom we before [v. 123] saw so sollicitous to keep up -to one rule of Horace, here makes no scruple to -transgress another. For, in violation of the very -letter of this precept, and of all the laws of decency -and common sense, he represents Medea butchering -her children in the face of the people; and, as if this -too faintly painted the fury of her character, he further -aggravates the cruelty of the execution, with all the -horrors of a lingering act. This, seemingly inconsistent, -conduct of the poet was, in truth, owing to -one and the same cause, namely, “The endeavour -to sustain Medea’s character.” For, wanting true -taste to discern the exact boundaries, which nature -had prescribed to the human character, or true -genius to support him in a due preservation of it, he, -as all bad writers use, for fear of doing too little, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">144</span> -unfortunately does too much; and so, as Shakespear -well expresses it, <i>o’ersteps the modesty of nature</i>, -inflating her <i>sentiments</i> with extravagant passion, -and blackening her <i>acts</i> with circumstances of unnatural -horror. Though some of these faults I suspect -he only copied. For, to say nothing of <i>that</i> of -Ennius, Ovid’s Medea was, at this time, very famous, -and as, I think, may be collected from the judgment -passed upon it by Quinctilian, had some of the vices, -here charged upon Seneca. <i>Ovidii Medea</i>, says he, -<i>videtur mihi ostendere, quantum vir ille præstare -potuerit, si ingenio suo temperare, quàm indulgere, -maluisset</i>. It is not possible indeed to say exactly, -wherein this <i>intemperance</i> consisted; but it is not -unlikely, that, amongst other things, it might shew -itself in the sorceries and incantations; a subject, -intirely suited to the wildness of Ovid’s genius; and -which, as appears from his relation of this story in -the metamorphosis, he knew not how to treat without -running into some excess and luxuriance in that part. -But whether this were the cause, or no, the very -treating a subject, which had gone through such -hands, as Euripides, Ennius, and Ovid, was enough -to expose a writer of better judgment, than Seneca, -to some hazard. For, in attempting to outdo originals, -founded on the plan of simple nature, a writer -is in the utmost danger of running into affectation -and bombast. And indeed, without this temptation, -our writers have generally found means to incur these -excesses; the very best of them being too apt to fill -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">145</span> -their plots with unnatural incidents, and to heighten -their characters into caracatures. Though it may be -doubted, whether this hath been owing so much to -their own ill taste, as to a vicious compliance with -that of the public; for, as one says, who well knew -the expediency of this craft, and practised accordingly, -<i>to write unnatural things is the most probable -way of pleasing them who understand not -nature</i>. [Dryd. Pref. to Mock Astrol.]</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>193. <span class="smcap">Actoris partes chorus</span>, &c.] See also -<i>Aristotle</i> [περ. ποιητ. κ. ιηʹ.] The judgment of two -such critics, and the practice of wise antiquity concurring -to establish this precept concerning the -Chorus, it should thenceforth, one would think, -have become a fundamental rule and maxim of -the stage. And so indeed it appeared to some few -writers. The most admired of the French tragic -poets ventured to introduce it into two of his latter -plays, and with such success, that, as one observes, -<i>It should, in all reason, have disabused his countrymen -on this head: l’essai heureux de M. Racine, -qui les [chœurs] a fait revivre dans</i> <span class="smcap">Athalie</span> <i>et dans</i> -<span class="smcap">Esther</span>, <i>devroit, ce semble, nous avoir detrompez -sur cet article</i>. [P. Brumoi, vol. i. p. 105.] And, -before him, our <i>Milton</i>, who, with his other great talents, -possessed a supreme knowledge of antiquity, -was so struck with its use and beauty, as to attempt -to bring it into our language. His <i>Sampson -Agonistes</i> was, as might be expected, a master-piece. -But even his credit hath not been sufficient to restore -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">146</span> -the Chorus. Hear a late Professor of the art declaring, -<i>De choro nihil disserui, quia non est essentialis -dramati, atque à neotericis penitus</i>, <small>ET, ME JUDICE, -MERITO, REPUDIATUR</small>. [Præl. Poet. vol. ii. p. 188.] -Whence it hath come to pass, that the chorus hath -been thus neglected, is not now the inquiry. But -that this critic, and all such are greatly out in their -judgments when they presume to censure it in the -ancients, must appear (if we look no further) from -the double use, insisted on by the poet. For, 1. A <i>chorus</i> -interposing, and bearing a part in the progress of -the action, gives the representation that <i>probability</i><a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">14</a>, -and striking resemblance of real life, which every -man of sense perceives and <i>feels</i> the want of upon -our stage; a want, which nothing but such an expedient -as the chorus can possibly relieve. And, 2. -The importance of its other office [v. 196] to the -<i>utility</i> of the representation, is so great, that, in a -moral view, nothing can compensate for this deficiency. -For it is necessary to the truth and decorum -of characters, that the <i>manners</i>, bad as well as good, -be drawn in strong, vivid colours, and to that end that -immoral sentiments, forcibly expressed and speciously -maintained, be sometimes <i>imputed</i> to the speakers. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">147</span> -Hence the sound philosophy of the chorus will be -constantly wanting to rectify the wrong conclusions -of the audience, and prevent the ill impressions that -might otherwise be made upon it. Nor let any one -say, that the audience is well able to do this for itself: -Euripides did not find even an Athenian theatre so -quick-sighted. The story is well known [Sen. Ep. -115.] that when this painter of the <i>manners</i> was -obliged, by the rules of his art, and the character to -be sustained, to put a run of bold sentiments in the -mouth of one of his persons, the people instantly took -fire, charging the poet with the <i>imputed</i> villany, as -though it had been his <i>own</i>. Now if such an audience -could so easily misinterpret an attention to the truth -of character into the real doctrine of the poet, and -this too, when a chorus was at hand to correct and -disabuse their judgments, what must be the case, -when the <i>whole</i> is left to the sagacity and penetration -of the people? The wiser sort, ’tis true, have little -need of this information. Yet the reflexions of sober -sense on the course and occurrences of the representation, -clothed in the noblest dress of poetry, and -inforced by the joint powers of <i>harmony</i> and <i>action</i> -(which is the true character of the chorus) might -make it, even to such, a not unpleasant or unprofitable -entertainment. But these <i>two</i> are a small part of the -<i>uses</i> of the chorus: which in every light is seen so -important to the truth, decorum, and dignity of the -tragic scene, that the <i>modern</i> stage, which hath not -thought proper to adopt it, is even, with the advantage -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">148</span> -of, sometimes, the justest moral painting and -sublimest imagery, but a very faint shadow of the -<i>old</i>; as must needs appear to those, who have looked -into the ancient models, or, divesting themselves of -modern prejudices, are disposed to consult the dictates -of plain sense. For the use of such I once designed -to have drawn into one view the several important -benefits, arising to the drama from the observance -of this rule, but have the pleasure to find -myself prevented by a sensible dissertation of a good -French writer, which the reader will find <i>in the</i> <small>VIII</small> -<i>Tom. of the history of the Academy of Inscriptions -and Belles Lettres</i>.—Or, it may be sufficient to -refer the English Reader to the late tragedies of -<span class="smcap">Elfrida</span> and <span class="smcap">Caractacus</span>; which do honour to -modern poetry, and are a better apology, than any -I could make, for the ancient chorus.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>193. <span class="smcap">Officiumque virile</span>] Heinsius takes <i>virile</i> -adverbially for <i>viriliter</i>. But this is thought harsh. -What hinders, but that it may be taken <i>adjectively</i>? -And then, agreeably to his interpretation, <i>officium -virile</i> will mean a strenuous, diligent office, such as -becomes a person interested in the progress of the -action. The precept is leveled against the practice -of those poets, who, though they allot the part of a -<i>persona dramatis</i> to the <i>chorus</i>, yet for the most -part make it so idle and insignificant an one, as is -of little consequence in the representation: by which -means the advantage of <i>probability</i>, intended to be -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">149</span> -drawn from this use of the <i>chorus</i>, is, in great -measure, lost.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>194. <span class="smcap">Neu quid medios intercinat actus, Quod -non proposito conducat et haereat apte.</span>] How -necessary this advice might be to the writers of the -Augustan age cannot certainly appear; but, if the -practice of Seneca may give room for any suspicion, -it should seem to have been much wanted; in whom -I scarcely believe there is one single instance of the -chorus being employed in a manner, consonant to its -true end and character. To support this general censure, -which may seem to bear hard on the poet, let us -examine, in this view, one of the best of his plays, -I mean, the Hippolytus; whose chorus, throughout, -bears a very idle and uninteresting part—hath no -share in the action—and sings impertinently.</p> - -<p>At the end of the <i>first</i> act, when Phædra had -avowed her passion for Hippolytus, instead of declaiming -against her horrid purpose, enlarging on the -danger and impiety of giving way to unnatural lusts, -or something of this nature, which was surely the -office of the chorus, it expatiates wantonly, and with -a poetic luxuriance, on the sovereign, wide-extended -powers of love.</p> - -<p>In the close of the <i>second</i> act, instead of applauding -the virtuous obstinacy of Hippolytus, and execrating -the mad attempt of Phædra, it coolly sings the danger -of beauty.</p> - -<p>The <i>third</i> act contains the false accusation of -Hippolytus, and the too easy deception of Theseus. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">150</span> -What had the chorus to do here, but to warn against -a too great credulity, and to commiserate the case -of the deluded father? Yet it declaims, in general, -on the unequal distribution of <i>good</i> and <i>ill</i>.</p> - -<p>After the <i>fourth</i> act, the chorus should naturally -have bewailed the fate of Hippolytus, and reverenced -the mysterious conduct of Providence in suffering the -cruel destiny of the innocent. This, or something -like it, would have been to the purpose. But, as if -the poet had never heard of this rule of <i>coherence</i>, -he harangues, in defiance of common sense, on the -instability of an high fortune, and the security of a -low.</p> - -<p>It will further justify this censure of <i>Seneca</i>, and -be some amusement to the critical reader, to observe, -how the several blunders, here charged upon him, -arose from an injudicious imitation of <i>Euripides</i>.</p> - -<p>I. There are two places in the Greek Hippolytus, -which Seneca seems to have had in view in his first -chorus. We will consider them both.</p> - -<p>1. When the unhappy Phædra at length suffers -the fatal secret of her passion to be extorted from her, -she falls, as was natural, into all the horrors of self-detestation, -and determines not to survive the confession -of so black a crime. In this conjuncture, the -<i>nutrix</i>, who is not drawn, as in modern tragedy, an -unmeaning confidante, the mere depositary of the -poet’s secrets, but has real manners assigned to her, -endeavours, with the highest beauty of character, to -divert these horrid intentions, and mitigate in some -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">151</span> -sort the guilt of her passion, by representing to her -the resistless and all-subduing force of love. “Venus, -says this virtuous <i>monitrix</i>, is not to be withstood, -when she rushes upon us with all her power. Nor -is any part of creation vacant from her influence. -She pervades the air, and glides through the deeps. -We, the inhabitants of the earth, are all subject -to her dominion. Nay, ask of the ancient bards, -and they will tell you, that the Gods themselves are -under her controul.” And so goes on, enumerating -particular examples, from all which she infers at last -the necessity of Phædra’s yielding to her fate. Again,</p> - -<p>2. Towards the close of the Greek play, when, -upon receiving the tragical story of his son’s sufferings, -Theseus began to feel his resentments give way -to the workings of paternal affection, and, on that -account, though he was willing to conceal the true -motive, even from himself, had given orders for the -dying Hippolytus to be brought before him, the -chorus very properly flings out into that fine address -to Venus,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Σὺ τὰν θεῶν ἄκαμπτον φρένα, &c.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>the substance of which is, “That Venus, with her -swift-winged boy, who traverses the earth and -ocean, subdues the stubborn hearts of Gods and -men: inspiring into all, on whom her influence -rests, whether inhabitants of the land or deep, and -more especially the race of man, a soft and sympathizing -tenderness; demonstrating hereby, that -she alone extends her all-controuling dominion over -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">152</span> -universal nature.” This song, as thus connected -with the occasion, is apparently very proper, and, -when reduced from the pomp of lyric eloquence to -plain prose, is only an address of congratulation to -the powers of love; confessing and celebrating their -influence, in thus softening the rigors of a father’s -hate, and awakening in his breast the soft touches of -returning pity and affection.</p> - -<p>Now these two places, taken together, are plainly -the ground-work of that song,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Diva, non miti generata ponto</i>, &c.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>but how improperly applied, has appeared, in respect -of the latter of them, from what has been observed -concerning the <i>occasion</i>; and must be acknowledged -of the other, from the different <i>character</i> of the person -to whom it is given; and also from hence, that the -chorus in the Greek poet expressly condemns the impiety -of such suggestions in the nurse, and admonishes -Phædra not to lend an ear to them. The chorus, -when it comes to sing in him, is far otherwise employed; -not in celebrating the triumphs, but deprecating -the pernicious fury of this passion, and in -lamenting the fatal miscarriages of Hymeneal love.</p> - -<p>II. The second song, on the graces of the prince’s -person, and the danger of beauty, which follows on -the abrupt departure of Hippolytus, rejecting, with -a virtuous disdain, the mad attempts of Phædra and -her confidante, is so glaringly improper, as not to -admit an excuse from any example. And yet, I am -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">153</span> -afraid, the single authority, it has to lean on, is a very -short hint, slightly dropped by the chorus in the -Greek poet on a very different occasion. It is in the -entrance of that scene, where the mangled body of -Hippolytus is brought upon the stage; on the -sight of which the chorus very naturally breaks -out,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Καὶ μὲν ὁ τάλας ὅδε δὴ στείχει<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Σάρκας νεαρὰς<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ξανθόν τε κάρα διαλυμανθείς.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and yet, as the reader of just taste perceives, nothing -beyond a single reflexion could have been endured -even here.</p> - -<p>III. The next song of the chorus may seem directly -copied from Euripides. Yet the two occasions -will be found extremely different. In Seneca, Theseus, -under the conviction of his son’s guilt, inveighs -bitterly against him, and at last supplicates the power -of Neptune to avenge his crimes. The chorus, as -anticipating the effects of this imprecation, arraigns -the justice of the Gods. In the Greek poet, the father, -under the like circumstances, invokes the same avenging -power, and, as some immediate relief to his rage, -pronounces the sentence of banishment, and urges -the instant execution of it, against him. Hippolytus, -unable to contend any longer with his father’s fury, -breaks out into that most tender complaint (than -which nothing was ever more affecting in tragedy)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ἄρηρεν, ὡς ἔοικεν, ὦ τάλας ἐγώ. &c.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">154</span></p> - -<p>containing his last adieu to his country, companions, -and friends. The chorus, touched with the pathos -of this apostrophe, and commiserating his sad reverse -of fortune, enters with him into the same excess -of lamentation, and, as the first expression of -it, lets fall this natural sentiment, “That though -from coolly contemplating the divine superintendency -of human affairs, there results abundant -confidence and security against the ills of life, yet -when we look abroad into the lives and fortunes of -men, that confidence is apt to fail us, and we -find ourselves discouraged and confounded by the -promiscuous and undistinguishing appointments -of <i>good</i> and <i>ill</i>.” This is the thought, which Seneca -hath imitated, and, as his manner is, outraged -in his chorus of the third act:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>O magna parens, Natura, Deûm</i>, &c.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But the great difference lies here. That, whereas -in <i>Euripides</i> this sentiment is proper and agreeable -to the state and circumstances of the chorus, which -is ever attentive to the progress of the action, and is -most affected by what immediately presents itself to -observation; in <i>Seneca</i> it is quite foreign and impertinent; -the attention of the chorus naturally -turning, not on the distresses of Hippolytus, which -had not yet commenced, but on the rashness and -unhappy delusion of Theseus, as being that, which -had made the whole subject of the preceding scene. -But the consequence of that delusion, it will be said, -was obvious. It may be so. But the chorus, as -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">155</span> -any sensible spectator, is most agitated by such reflexions, -as occur to the mind from those scenes of -the drama, which are actually passing before it, and -not from those which have not yet taken place.</p> - -<p>IV. What was remarked of the <i>second</i> song of the -chorus will be applicable to the <i>fourth</i>, which is -absurdly founded on a single reflexion in the Greek -poet, but just touched in a couple of lines, though -much more naturally introduced. Theseus, plunged -in the deepest affliction by the immature death of -Phædra, and not enduring the sight of the supposed -guilty author of it, commands him into banishment, -“Lest, as he goes on, his former triumphs and -successes against the disturbers of mankind, -should in consequence of the impunity of such -unprecedented crimes, henceforth do him no honour.” -The chorus, struck with the distressful -situation of the old king, and recollecting with him -the sum of his former glories, is made to exclaim,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Οὐκ οἶδ’ ὅπως εἴποιμ’ ἂν εὐτυχεῖν τινα<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Θνητῶν· τὰ γὰρ δὴ πρῶτ’ ἀνέστραπται πάλιν.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>i. e. <i>there is henceforth no such thing, as human -happiness, when the first examples of it are thus -sadly reversed</i>. Which casual remark Seneca -seizes and extends through a whole chorus; where -it visibly serves to no other end, but to usurp a -place, destined for far more natural and affecting -sentiments.</p> - -<p>If I have been rather long upon this head, it is -because I conceive this critique on the Hippolytus -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">156</span> -will let the reader, at once, into the true character -of <i>Seneca</i>; which, he now sees, is that of a mere -<i>declamatory moralist</i>. So little deserving is he of -the reputation of a just dramatic poet.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>196. <span class="smcap">Ille bonis faveatque</span>, &c.] <i>The chorus</i>, -says the poet, <i>is to take the side of the good and -virtuous</i>, i. e. is always to sustain a moral character. -But this will need some explanation and restriction. -To conceive aright of its office, we must suppose -the <i>chorus</i> to be a number of persons, by some probable -cause assembled together, as witnesses and -spectators of the great action of the drama. Such -persons, as they cannot be wholly uninterested in -what passes before them, will very naturally bear -some share in the representation. This will principally -consist in declaring their sentiments, and indulging -their reflexions freely on the several events -and distresses as they shall arise. Thus we see the -<i>moral</i>, attributed to the chorus, will be no other -than the dictates of plain sense; such as must be -obvious to every thinking observer of the action, -who is under the influence of no peculiar partialities -from <i>affection</i> or <i>interest</i>. Though even these may -be supposed in cases, where the character, towards -which they <i>draw</i>, is represented as virtuous.</p> - -<p>A chorus, thus constituted, must always, it is -evident, take the part of virtue; because this is the -natural and almost necessary determination of mankind, -in all ages and nations, when acting freely -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">157</span> -and unconstrained. But then it is to be observed,</p> - -<p>1. That this moral character, or approbation of -virtue, must also be considerably influenced by the -common and established notions of <i>right</i> and <i>wrong</i>; -which, though in essential points, for the most part, -uniformly the same under all circumstances, yet -will, in some particular instances, be much distorted -by the corrupt principles and practices of different -countries and times. Hence the <i>moral</i> of the stage -will not be always strictly philosophical; as reflecting -to us the image not of the sage’s speculation, but, -of the obvious sense of common, untutor’d minds. -The reader will find this observation applied to the -case of the <i>chorus</i> in the Medea, in note on v. 200, -and it might further, perhaps, be extended to the -vindication of some others, to which the ignorant -temerity of modern criticism hath taken occasion to -object. But,</p> - -<p>2. The <i>moral character</i> of the chorus will not -only depend very much on the several mistaken -notions and usages, which may happen, under different -circumstances, to corrupt and defile <i>morality</i>; -but allowance is also to be made for the <i>false policies</i>, -which may prevail in different countries; and -especially if they constitute any part of the subject, -which the drama would represent. If the <i>chorus</i> be -made up of free citizens, whether of a republic, or -the milder and more equal royalties, they can be -under little or no temptation to suppress or disguise -their real sentiments on the several events, presented -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">158</span> -to their observation; but will be at liberty to pursue -their natural inclination of speaking the truth. But -should this venerable assembly, instead of sustaining -the dignity of free subjects, be, in fact, a company -of slaves, devoted by long use to the service -and interests of a master, or awed, by the dread of -tyrannical power, into an implicit compliance with -his will, the baleful effect, which this very different -situation must have on their moral character, is evident. -Their opinions of persons and things will -cease to be oracular; and the interposition of the -<i>chorus</i> will be more likely to injure the cause of virtue, -than to assist and promote it. Nor can any -objection be made, on this account, to the conduct -of the poet; who keeps to nature and probability in -drawing the chorus with this imperfectly moral character; -and is only answerable for his ill choice of -a subject, in which such a pernicious representation -is required. An instance will explane my meaning -more perfectly. The chorus in the <i>Antigone</i>, contrary -to the rule of Horace, takes the side of the -<i>wicked</i>. It consists of a number of old Thebans, -assembled by the order of Creon to assist, or rather -to be present, at a kind of mock council; in which he -meant to issue his cruel interdict of the rites of sepulture -to the body of Polynices; a matter of the -highest consequence in those days, and upon which -the whole distress of the play turns. This veteran -troop of vassals enter at once into the horrid views -of the tyrant, and obsequiously go along with him -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">159</span> -in the projects of his cruelty; calmly, and without -the appearance of any virtuous emotion, consenting -to them all. The consequence is that the interludes -of the chorus are, for the most part, impertinent, -or something worse; cautiously avoiding such useful -reflexions, as the nature of the case must suggest, -or indulging, by their flatteries, the impotent tyranny -of their prince. And yet no blame can be -fairly charged upon the great poet, who hath surely -represented, in the most striking colours, the pernicious -character, which a chorus, under such circumstances, -would naturally sustain. The fault -must therefore fall, where the poet manifestly intended -to throw it, on the accursed spirit of despotism; -which extinguishes, or over-rules, the suggestions -of common sense; kills the very seeds of -virtue, and perverts the most sacred and important -offices, such as is that of the chorus, into the means -and instruments of vice. The glory, which he designed, -by this representation, to reflect upon the -government and policy of his own state, is too glaring -to be overlooked. And he hath artfully contrived -to counter-act any ill impressions on the -minds of the people, from the prostituted authority -of the chorus, by charging them, in the persons of -Hæmon and Antigone, with their real motives and -views. In all indifferent things, in which the passions -or interests of their master were not concerned, -even this chorus would of course preserve a moral -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">160</span> -character. But we are to look for it no further. -This is the utmost verge and boundary of a slave’s -virtue. An important truth, which, among many -greater and more momentous instructions, furnishes -this to the dramatic poet, “That, if he would apply -the chorus to the uses of a sound and useful moral, -he must take his subjects, not from the annals of -despotic tyranny, but from the great events, which -occur in the records of free and equal commonwealths.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>200. <span class="smcap">Ille tegat commissa</span>] This important -advice is not always easy to be followed. Much -indeed will depend on the choice of the subject, and -the artful constitution of the fable. Yet, with all -his care, the ablest writer will sometimes find himself -embarrassed by the chorus. I would here be -understood to speak chiefly of the moderns. For -the ancients, though it has not been attended to, -had some peculiar advantages over us in this respect, -resulting from the principles and practices of those -times. For, as it hath been observed of the ancient -epic muse, that she borrowed much of her state and -dignity from the false <i>theology</i> of the pagan world, so, -I think, it may be justly said of the ancient tragic, that -she has derived great advantages of probability from -its mistaken <i>moral</i>. If there be truth in this reflexion, -it will help to justify some of the ancient -choirs, that have been most objected to by the moderns. -To give an instance or two, and leave the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">161</span> -curious reader to extend the observation at his -leisure.</p> - -<p>I. In the Hippolytus of Euripides, the chorus, -which is let into Phædra’s design of killing herself, -suffers this rash attempt to take effect, rather than -divulge the intrusted secret. This, to a modern -reader, seems strange; and we are ready to arraign -the poet of having allotted a very unfit and unbecoming -part to his <i>chorus</i>, which, in order to observe -a <i>critical</i>, is thus made to violate a <i>moral</i> -precept, or at least to sacrifice the more essential -part of its character to a punctilio of honour. But -the case was quite otherwise. This suicide of Phædra, -which, on our stricter moral plan, is repugnant -to the plain rules of duty, was, in the circumstances -supposed, fully justified on the pagan system. -Phædra had confessed the secret of her criminal -passion. By the forward zeal of her confident, -her disgrace is made known to Hippolytus; and -thereby, as she conceives, rendered notorious to -the public. In this distress she had only one way -to vindicate her honour, and that was at the expence -of her life. Rather than bear the insupportable -load of public infamy, she kills herself. That -this was a justifiable cause of self-murder in the -eye of the chorus is clear from the reason, there -assigned, of her conduct, manifestly in approbation -of it. “Phædra, says the chorus, oppressed and -borne down by her afflictions, has recourse to this -expedient of suicide, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">162</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">τάν τ’ εὔδοξον ἀνθαιρουμένα<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Φάμαν, ἀπαλλάσσουσά<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Τ’ ἀλγεινὸν φρενῶν ἔρωτα.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>for the sake of her good fame, and in order to free -herself from the tortures of a cruel passion.” And -how agreeable this was to the pagan system, in general, -let the reader collect from the following testimonies -in Cicero: <i>Si omnia fugiendæ turpitudinis -adipiscendæque honestatis causâ faciemus, non -modo stimulos doloris, sed etiam fulmina fortunæ -contemnamus licebit: præsertim cum paratum sit -illud ex hesternâ disputatione perfugium. Ut -enim, si, cui naviganti prædones insequantur, -Deus quis dixerit, Ejice te navi; præsto est, qui -excipiat</i>, &c. <i>omnem omittas timorem; sic, urgentibus -asperis et odiosis doloribus, si tanti non sint -ut ferendi sint, quo sit confugiendum vides.</i> [Tusc. -Disp. l. ii. 26.] And, again, in the close of the V<sup>th</sup> -disputation, <i>Mihi quidem in vita servanda videtur -illa lex, quæ in Græcorum conviviis obtinet: Aut -bibat, inquit, aut abeat. Et recte. Aut enim -fruatur aliquis pariter cum aliis voluptate potandi; -aut, ne sobrius in violentiam vinolentorum incidat, -ante discedat: sic</i> <small>INJURIAS FORTUNÆ, QUAS FERRE -NEQUEAS, DEFUGIENDO RELINQUAS</small>.</p> - -<p>II. Another example may, I think, be fetched -from the <i>Medea</i>. Scarcely any thing has been more -the subject of modern censure, than the part, which -the chorus is made to act in this tragedy. <i>Whence -comes it</i>, says M. Dacier, <i>that the chorus, which -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">163</span> -consists of Corinthian women, is faithful to a -stranger against their sovereign<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">15</a>?</i> This good -Frenchman, it seems, thought it a kind of treason, -even on the stage, and where a moral character -was to be sustained, to take part against a tyrant. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">164</span> -But he will further say, that the moral character -of the chorus was forfeited in thus concealing, -and, in effect, abetting the impious cruelties of -Medea. <i>The laws of nature and of God were transgressed -in rendering this service to her.</i> All which -is very true, supposing the reader to judge of this -matter by the purer christian moral. But how will -he prove this to be the case on the received notions -and practices of paganism? It appears, this critic -did not apprehend, what a moderate attention to -ancient history and manners might have taught him, -that the violation of conjugal fidelity was a crime of -that high nature, as to deserve in the public opinion, -and to excuse, the severest vengeance of retaliation. -This the laws expresly allowed to the injuries of the -husband. And, it is probable, the wife might incline -to think the reason of the case extended also to -her. What is certain is, that we find some of the -deepest scenes of horror, which ancient history -furnishes, or ancient fiction could paint, wrought -up from the occasion of this neglect of conjugal faith. -And it is well observed by one, in speaking of the -difference between the ancient and modern stage, -that what is now held the fit subject of comic mirth -and ridicule in christian theatres, was never employed -but to stir up the utmost horror and commiseration, -on the heathen. “We do not find, says this agreeable -writer, any comedy in so polite an author, as -Terence, raised upon the violations of the marriage-bed. -The falsehood of the wife or husband has -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">165</span> -given occasion to noble tragedies; but a Scipio and -Lælius would have looked upon incest or murder, -to have been as proper subjects for comedy.” This -is strictly and precisely the truth. And, therefore, as -the crimes of incest or murder were believed deserving -of the highest punishment by the Pagans, and -every good man was ready to interest himself in seeing -it inflicted<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">16</a>; so, in the case of the open violation of -the marriage-compact, the fiercest acts of revenge -were justified in the public opinion, and passed only -for acts of strict justice. And for this, if we wanted -further authority, we have the express word of the -chorus. The Corinthian women do not barely consent -to secrecy, in virtue of an extorted oath or -promise (though more might have been said for this, -than every reader is aware of) but in consequence of -their entire and full approbation of her intentions. -For thus, in answer to Medea’s petition to them, -without the least reserve or hesitation, they are made -to reply,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Δράσω τάδ’· ἐνδίκως γὰρ ἐκτίσῃ πόσιν<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Μήδεια.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><i>I will do it; for this revenge on a husband is just.</i> -We see then the chorus, in keeping the secret of -Medea’s murders, was employed in its great office of -countenancing and supporting <i>salubrem justitiam</i>, -<i>wholesome justice</i>. And, therefore, the scholiast, -with M. Dacier’s leave, gave a fit and proper account -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">166</span> -of the matter (so far was it from being <i>impious</i> and -<i>ridiculous</i>) in saying, <i>that the Corinthian women -being free</i>, i. e. not devoted to the service of Creon, -by the special duties of any personal attachment, -<i>take the side of justice, as the chorus is wont to do -on other occasions</i>. The circumstance of their <i>freedom</i> -is properly mentioned. For this distinguishes -their case from that of the <i>nutrix</i>, who upon receiving -the account of Jason’s cruelties, cries out,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ὄλοιτο μὲν μὴ, δεσπότης γάρ ἐστ’ ἐμὸς,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ἀτὰρ κακός γ’ ὢν εἰς φίλους ἁλίσκεται.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And that the chorus enter’d into Medea’s designs -against her husband, the tyrant Creon, and her -rival, on reasons of justice and equity only, and not -(as is hastily believed by some, who have not enough -attended to the decorum of the ancient tragedy) for -the sake of forwarding the poet’s plot, may be certainly -shewn. For when, in the fury of her resentments, -and as the full completion of her revenge, -the mother comes to propose the murder of her innocent -children, the chorus starts with horror at the -thought, dissuades her from it in the most earnest -and affecting manner<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">17</a>, and seems to have concealed -the dreadful secret only from the persuasion, that -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">167</span> -it was too horrid and unnatural to be perpetrated. -The reader will collect this with pleasure, by turning -to the fine song, which follows. It may be -further observed, that Medea herself, in opening -this last purpose of her rage to the chorus, exacts -fidelity of them only, <i>as they wished well to an injured -queen, and were women</i>;</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Εἴπερ φρονεῖς εὖ δεσπόταις, γυνή τ’ ἔφυς.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>which is beautifully contrived by the poet, to discriminate -the two cases, and to intimate to us, that -reasons of justice were now no longer to be pleaded.</p> - -<p>In sum, though these acts of severe avenging justice -might not be according to the express letter of -the laws, or the more refined conclusions of the -<span class="smcap">Porch</span> or <span class="smcap">Academy</span>; yet there is no doubt, that -they were, in the general account, esteemed fit and -reasonable. And, it is to be observed, in order to -pass a right judgment on the ancient chorus, that, -though in virtue of their office, they were obliged -universally to sustain a moral character; yet this -moral was rather political and popular, than strictly -legal or philosophic. Which is also founded on -good reason. The scope and end of the ancient -theatre being to serve the interests of virtue and -society, on the principles and sentiments, already -spread and admitted amongst the people, and not -to correct old errors, and instruct them in philosophic -truth. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">168</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>202. <span class="smcap">Tibia non, ut nunc, orichalco</span>, &c.] -[from v. 202 to v. 220.] This is one of those -many passages in the epistle, about which the critics -have said a great deal, without explaining any -thing. In support of what I mean to offer, as the -true interpretation, I observe,</p> - -<p>That the poet’s intention certainly was, not to -censure the <i>false</i> refinements of their stage-music; -but, in a short digressive history (such as the didactic -form will sometimes require) to describe the rise -and progress of the <i>true</i>. This I collect, 1. From -<i>the expression itself</i>; which cannot, without violence, -be understood in any other way. For, as to the -words <i>licentia</i> and <i>præceps</i>, which have occasioned -much of the difficulty, the <i>first</i> means a <i>freer use</i>, -not a <i>licentiousness</i>, properly so called; and the -<i>other</i> only expresses a vehemence and rapidity of -language, naturally productive of a quicker elocution, -such as must of course attend the more numerous -harmony of the lyre:—not, as M. Dacier -translates it, <i>une eloquence temeraire et outrée</i>, an -extravagant straining and affectation of style. 2. -From <i>the reason of the thing</i>; which makes it incredible, -that the music of the theatre should then -be most complete, when the times were barbarous, -and entertainments of this kind little encouraged or -understood. 3. From <i>the character of that music -itself</i>; for the rudeness of which, Horace, in effect, -apologizes in defending it only on the score of the -imperfect state of the stage, and the simplicity of its -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">169</span> -judges. But what shall we say then to those lines,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Indoctus quid enim saperet liberque laborum,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Rusticus urbano confusus, turpis honesto?</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>which seem to imply a censure on these Improvements, -as unworthy the approbation of <i>wise</i> men; -contrary to what I have just now supposed to be the -scope of this whole passage.</p> - -<p>On the strictest attention, I believe we are to understand -them as a <i>Sneer</i>, in passing, on what grave -and philosophic men have observed of these refinements, -which they constantly treat, as <i>Corruptions</i>. -See note on v. 218. But the mixed auditories of -these days, says the poet with his usual <i>badinage</i>, -were not so <i>wise</i>. ’Tis, as if he had said, “What -I mention here as an improvement in dramatic music -is, in the ideas and language of some grave men, -an abuse and perversion of it to immoral purposes. -It may be so: but consider, for what sorts of people -these theatrical entertainments were designed: for -the <i>ignorant clown and citizen, the plebeian and -gentleman</i>, huddled together into one confused -mass, and crowding to the theatre, on a holyday, -for some relief from their ordinary toils and occupations. -And alas, what do these men know, or consider -of this austere <i>wisdom</i>?</p> - -<p>But the cast of the whole passage is, besides, -such as favours the supposition of an intended Irony. -Hence the <i>Tibia non, ut nunc, orichalco vincta</i>, -&c. delivered in the usual tone of declaimers against -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">170</span> -modern manners. Hence the epithets, <i>frugi castusque -verecundusque</i>, to denote the quality of those -who assisted, of old, at these <i>virtuous</i> entertainments. -And hence the enormity of that state of -things, when the people were afterwards permitted -to regale on holy days, <i>impune</i>. This intention too -accounts for the terms <i>licentia</i>, <i>luxuries</i>, <i>facundia</i>, -<i>præceps</i>, and others, which being of ambiguous interpretation, -the poet purposely chose, to mimic, -and humour, as it were, the objectors in their favourite -language on this occasion. Till at last, impatient -to continue the raillery any further, he concludes -at once with an air of solemnity very proper -to confound the impertinence of such criticism.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Utiliumque sagax rerum, et divina futuri<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sortilegis non discrepuit sententia Delphis.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>All this the reader sees is agreeable to the poet’s -<i>prescription</i> elsewhere,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">—Sermone opus est tristi, sæpe <i>jocoso</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and indeed to his own <i>practice</i> on an hundred occasions. -So that on the whole there is little doubt of -his intention in the lines,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Indoctus quid enim <i>saperet</i>, &c.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>At least, in this view the poet, I am apt to think, -will be found intelligible and even elegant. Whereas, -on any other supposition of his numerous commentators, -I cannot see that the verses before us (as -they here stand) have either propriety or common -sense.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">171</span></p> - -<p>The interpretation then of this whole passage, -from v. 202 to 220, will stand thus. “The Tibia, -says the poet, was at first <i>low</i> and <i>simple</i>. The -<i>first</i>, as best agreeing to the <i>state of the stage</i>, -which required only a soft music to go along with, -and assist the chorus; there being no large and -crowded theatres to <i>fill</i> in those days. And the -<i>latter</i>, as suiting best to the <i>state of the times</i>; -whose simplicity and frugal manners exacted the -severest temperance, as in every thing else, so, -in their dramatic ornaments and decorations. But, -when conquest had enlarged the territory, and -widened the walls of Rome; and, in consequence -thereof, a social spirit had dispelled that severity -of manners, by the introduction of frequent festival -solemnities; then, as was natural to expect, a -freer and more varied harmony took place. Nor let -it be objected that this <i>freer harmony</i> was itself an -abuse, a corruption of the severe and <i>moral</i> music of -ancient times. Alas! we were not as yet so <i>wise</i>, -to see the inconveniencies of this improvement. -And how should we, considering the nature and -end of these theatrical entertainments, and the -sort of men of which our theatres were made up? -But, leaving the Philosopher to speculate at his -ease, on this matter, thus, in <i>fact</i>, it was, “that -the <i>Tibicen</i>, the musician, who played to the declamation -in the acts, instead of the rude and simpler -strain of the old times, gave a richness and -variety of tone; and, instead of the old inactive -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">172</span> -posture, added the grace of motion to his art. -Just in the same manner, continues he, it happened -to the <i>Lyre</i>, i. e. <i>the music in the chorus</i>, -which originally, as that of the <i>Tibia</i>, was severe -and simple; but, by degrees, acquired a quicker -and more expressive modulation, such as corresponded -to the more elevated and passionate turn -of the poet’s style, and the diviner enthusiasm of -his sentiment.” All that is further wanting to -support and justify this interpretation, will be found -in the notes on particular passages.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>203. <span class="smcap">Tenuis simplexque</span>, &c.] It may here -be observed of the manner, in which the poet hath -chosen to deliver this whole part [from v. 202 to -295] that, besides its other uses, it tends directly -to convey to his readers, and impress upon them in -the strongest manner, the principal instruction, he -has in view, and with which the epistle more expresly -concludes, <i>viz. The uses and importance of -a spirit of critical application</i>. For, in speaking -of the <i>stage music</i>, of the <i>satyrs</i>, and the <i>Greek -tragedy</i> (all which come naturally in his way, and -are very artfully connected) he chuses to deduce the -account of each from its ruder and less polished -original; tracing it through its several successive -stages, and marking out to us the gradual polish -and refinement, which it acquired from increasing -diligence and correctness. The <i>Tibia</i> at first was -<i>simple</i> and <i>rude</i>—The <i>satyrs naked</i> and <i>barbarous</i>—and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">173</span> -the <i>Greek tragedy itself deformed and shapeless</i> -in the cart of Thespis. Care and attention reformed -each. It follows,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Nil intentatum nostri liquere poetæ, &c.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><i>i. e.</i> our poets have not been wanting in their attempts -to excel in these several particulars. What -is necessary to their success is, <i>limæ labor et mora</i>. -If the reader bear this in mind, it will help him to -see the order and scope of this part more distinctly.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>204. <span class="smcap">Aspirare et adesse choris</span>, &c.] <i>Chorus</i> -here means the whole dramatic performance, which -was originally nothing else.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>206. <span class="smcap">Utpote parvus, et frugi castusque verecundusque</span>, -&c.] M. <i>Dacier</i> finds here <i>four</i> -causes <i>of the little regard the ancients had for -plays</i> [he should have said, of their being satisfied -with the <i>Tibia</i>, all rude and simple as is here described] -<i>la premiere, que le peuple Romain étoit -encore alors en petit nombre: la seconde, qu’il -étoit sage: la troisiéme, qu’il étoit chaste, c’est à -dire pieux: et la quatriéme, qu’il étoit modeste</i>. But -the three last epithets are synonymous, all of them -expressing what, though he took three guesses for -it, he had the ill fortune to miss at last, <i>that plainness -and simplicity</i> of character, <i>that frugal reserve -and moderation in the use of any thing</i>, which -so essentially belongs to rude minds, uninstructed -in the arts of life. His <i>four</i> causes are, in fact, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">174</span> -then but two; which have been fully considered in -note on v. 202.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>211. <span class="smcap">Accessit numerisque modisque licentia -major.</span>] M. <i>Dacier</i> takes <i>licentia major</i> in a bad -sense, as implying <i>lasciveté</i>, <i>a culpable and licentious -refinement</i>. But the <i>licence</i>, here spoken of, -with regard to <i>numbers</i> and <i>sounds</i>, like that in -another place, which respects <i>words</i> [l. 51.] is one -of those, which is allowed, when <i>sumpta pudenter</i>. -The comparative <i>major</i>, which is a <i>palliative</i>, shews -this; and is further justified by a like passage in -<i>Cicero</i>, <i>De Oratore</i> [l. iii. c. 48.] where speaking of -this very licence in poetry, he observes, that out -of the Heroic and Iambic measure, which were at -first strictly observed, there arose by degrees the -Anapæst, <i>procerior quidam numerus, et ille licentior -et divitior Dithyrambus</i>; evidently not condemning -this change, but opposing it to the rigorous -and confined measure of the elder poets. But -the expression itself occurs in the piece entitled -<i>Orator</i>, in which, comparing the freedoms of the -poetical and oratorial style, <i>in ea</i> [i. e. <i>poetica</i>] -says he, <i>licentiam statuo majorem esse, quam in -nobis, faciendorum jungendorumque verborum</i>. -The poet says, this <i>licence</i> extended <i>numeris modisque</i>, -the former of which words will express that -<i>licence of metre</i>, spoken of by <i>Cicero</i>, and which is -further explained v. 256, <i>&c.</i> where an account is -given of the improvement of the Iambic verse. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">175</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<table> - <tr> - <td>214.</td> - <td><span class="smcap">Sic priscae, — — — Arti</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td/><td><span class="smcap">Tibicen,</span>&c.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td/><td><span class="smcap">Sic etiam Fidibus</span>, &c.]<br /></td> - </tr></table> - -<p>This is the application of what hath been said, in -general, concerning the refinement of theatrical -music to the case of <i>tragedy</i>. Some commentators -say, and to <i>comedy</i>. But in this they mistake, as -will appear presently. M. <i>Dacier</i> hath, I know -not what conceit about a comparison betwixt the -<i>Roman</i> and <i>Greek</i> stage. His reason is, <i>that the -lyre was used in the Greek chorus, as appears</i>, he -says, <i>from Sophocles playing upon this instrument -himself in one of his tragedies</i>. And was it not -used too in the Roman chorus, as appears from -Nero’s playing upon it in several tragedies? But -the learned critic did not apprehend this matter. -Indeed from the caution, with which his guides, -the dealers in antiquities, always touch this point, -it should seem, that they too had no very clear conceptions -of it. The case I take to have been this: -The <i>Tibia</i>, as being most proper to accompany the -declamation of the acts, <i>cantanti succinere</i>, was -constantly employed, as well in the Roman tragedy -as comedy. This appears from many authorities. -I mention only two from Cicero. <i>Quam multa</i> -[Acad. l. ii. 7.] <i>quæ nos fugiunt in cantu, exaudiunt -in eo genere exercitati: Qui, primo inflatu -Tibicinis, Antiopam esse aiunt aut Andromacham, -cum nos ne suspicemur quidem.</i> The other is still -more express. In his piece, entitled <i>Orator</i>, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">176</span> -speaking of the negligence of the Roman writers, in -respect of <i>numbers</i>, he observes, <i>that there were -even many passages in their tragedies, which, unless -the</i> <span class="smcap">Tibia</span> <i>played to them, could not be distinguished -from mere prose</i>: <i>quæ, nisi cum Tibicen -accesserit, orationi sint solutæ simillima</i>. One of -these passages is expresly quoted from <i>Thyestes</i>, a -tragedy of <i>Ennius</i>; and, as appears from the measure, -taken out of one of the acts. It is clear then, -that the <i>Tibia</i> was certainly used in the <i>declamation</i> -of tragedy. But now the song of the tragic chorus, -being of the nature of the ode, of course required -<i>Fides</i>, the lyre, the peculiar and appropriated instrument -of the lyric Muse. And this is clearly -collected, if not from express testimonies; yet from -some occasional hints dropt by the ancients. For, -1. the lyre, we are told, [Cic. De Leg. ii. 9. & 15.] -and is agreed on all hands, was an instrument of -the Roman theatre; but it was not employed in comedy. -This we certainly know from the short accounts -of the music prefixed to Terence’s plays. 2. -Further, the <i>Tibicen</i>, as we saw, accompanied the -declamation of the acts in tragedy. It remains -then, that the proper place of the lyre was, where -one should naturally look for it, in the songs of the -chorus; but we need not go further than this very -passage for a proof. It is unquestionable, that the -poet is here speaking of the chorus only; the following -lines not admitting any other possible interpretation. -By <i>Fidibus</i> then is necessarily understood -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">177</span> -the instrument peculiarly used in it. Not that it -need be said that the <i>Tibia</i> was never used in the -chorus. The contrary seems expressed in a passage -of Seneca, [Ep. lxxxiv.] and in Julius Pollux [l. iv. -15. § 107.] ’Tis sufficient, if the <i>lyre</i> was used -solely, or principally in it, at this time. In this -view, the whole digression is more pertinent and -connects better. The poet had before been speaking -of tragedy. All his directions, from l. 100. respect -this species of the drama only. The application -of what he had said concerning music, is then -most naturally made, 1. to the <i>Tibia</i>, the music of -the acts; and, 2. to <i>Fides</i>, that of the choir: thus -confining himself, as the tenor of this part required, -to tragedy only. Hence is seen the mistake, not -only of M. Dacier, whose comment is in every view -insupportable; but, as was hinted, of Heinsius, -Lambin, and others, who, with more probability, -explained this of the Roman comedy and tragedy. -For though <i>Tibia</i> might be allowed to stand for comedy, -as opposed to <i>Tragœdia</i>, [as in fact, we find -it in l. ii. Ep. 1. 98.] that being the only instrument -employed in it; yet, in speaking expresly of the -music of the stage, <i>Fides</i> could not determinately -enough, and in contradistinction to <i>Tibia</i>, denote -that of tragedy, it being an instrument used solely, -or principally in the chorus; of which, the context -shews, he alone speaks. It is further to be observed, -that, in the application here made, besides the music, -the poet takes in the other improvements of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">178</span> -tragic chorus, these happening, as from the nature -of the thing they would do, at the same time.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>214. <span class="smcap">Sic priscae motumque et luxuriem.</span>] -These two words are employed to express that -<i>quicker movement</i>, and <i>richer modulation</i> of the -new music; the peculiar defects of the <i>old</i> being, -1. That it moved too slowly, and, 2. That it had no -compass or variety of notes. It was that <i>movement</i>, -that velocity and vehemence of the music, which -Roscius required to have slackened in his old age.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>215. <span class="smcap">Traxitque vagus per pulpita vestem.</span>] -This expresses not only the improvement arising -from the ornament of proper dresses, but from the -grace of motion: not only the <i>actor</i>, whose peculiar -office it was, but the <i>minstrel</i> himself, as appears -from hence, conforming his gesture in some sort to -the music.</p> - -<p>Of the use and propriety of these gestures, or -dances, it will not be easy for us, who see no such -things attempted on the modern stage, to form any -very clear or exact notions. What we cannot doubt -of is, 1. That the several theatrical dances of the ancients -were strictly conformable to the genius of the -different species of composition, to which they were -applied. 2. That, therefore, the tragic dance, -which more especially accompanied the chorus, -must have been expressive of the highest gravity and -decorum, tending to inspire ideas of what is <i>becoming, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">179</span> -graceful</i>, and <i>majestic</i>; in which view we -cannot but perceive the important assistance it must -needs lend to virtue, and how greatly it must contribute -to set all her graces and attractions in the -fairest light. 3. This idea of the ancient tragic -dance, is not solely formed upon our knowledge of -the conformity, beforementioned; but is further collected -from the name, usually given to it, which was -Ἐμμέλεια. This word cannot well be translated into -our language; but expresses all that grace and concinnity -of motion, which the dignity of the choral -song required. 4. Lastly, it must give us a very -high notion of the moral effect of this dance, when -we find the severe Plato admitting it into his commonwealth.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>216. <span class="smcap">Sic etiam fidibus voces</span>, &c.] He is here -speaking of the great improvement in the tragic -chorus, after the Roman conquests, when the Latin -writers began to enquire</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Quid Sophocles et Thespis et Æschylus utile ferrent</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This improvement consisted, 1. In a more instructive -moral sentiment: 2. In a more sublime and -animated expression; which of course produced, 3. -A greater vehemence in the declamation: to which -conformed, 4. A more numerous and rapid music. -All these particulars are here expressed, but, as the -reason of the thing required, in an inverted order. -The music of the lyre (that being his subject, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">180</span> -introducing the rest) being placed first; the declamation, -as attending that, next; the language, <i>facundia</i>, -that is, the subject of the declamation, next; -and the sentiment, <i>sententia</i>, the ground and basis -of the language, last.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Et tulit eloquium insolitum facundia præceps.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>literally, “A vehemence and rapidity of language -produced an unusual vehemence and rapidity of -elocution in the declaimer!” This “rapidity of language,” -is exactly the same, as that Cicero speaks -of in Democritus and Plato, [<i>Orat.</i> 638. <i>Elz.</i>] -which, because of its quick and rapid movement, -<i>quod incitatius feratur</i>, some critics thought to be -poetical. <i>Unaccustomed</i>, we may observe, is indifferently -a <i>censure</i> or <i>encomium</i>, according as the -preceding state of the thing spoken of was <i>wrong</i>, or -<i>right</i>. Much the same may be concluded of <i>præceps</i>; -its <i>literal</i> sense is a degree of <i>motion</i> in any -thing above what it had before. This may be <i>excessive</i>, -or otherwise, as it chances: When applied -to <i>the bleak East wind, dispersing a flight of bees, -and dashing them on the stream</i>,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i30"><i>si forte morantes</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Sparserit, aut præceps Neptuno immerserit Eurus</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="author">Virg. Georg. iv. 29.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>the epithet implies <i>excess</i>; but when spoken of the -<i>gentle South, whose strongest gale is but sufficient -to drive the willing ship to port</i>, [Æn. vii. 410.] -<i>Præcipiti delata Noto</i>, it then only expresses <i>due -measure</i>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">181</span></p> - -<p>As for the criticism from Quintilian, who opposes -<i>præcipitia</i> to <i>sublimibus</i>, it is doubly impertinent: -1. As the sense is necessarily fixed by its opposition -to <i>sublimibus</i>: and 2. As the word is here used, -not as implying <i>motion</i>, but <i>height</i>, in which view -its sense is <i>absolute</i>, and always denotes <i>excess</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>218. <span class="smcap">Utiliumque sagax rerum, et divina futuri, -Sortilegis non discrepuit sententia Delphis.</span>] -It is amazing that these two lines should -ever have been misunderstood as a censure, the import -of them being highly <i>encomiastic</i>, yet with -great exactness declaring the specific boast and excellence -of the chorus; which lay, as Heinsius hath -well observed, 1. In inculcating important moral -lessons; and 2. In delivering useful presages and -monitions concerning future conduct, with an almost -oracular prudence and authority.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Sic priscae — — — — Arti.</span><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>What hath chiefly misled the Critics in their explanation -of this place, I suspect to have been the -frequent encomiums on the severity of the ancient -music, by the Greek and Latin writers. Though -here they seem to have overlooked two very material -considerations: 1. That the <i>former</i> have chiefly -treated the subject in a <i>moral</i> or <i>political</i> view, and -therefore preferred the ancient music only as it was -conceived to influence the public manners. For this -reason Plato, one of the chief of those <i>encomiasts</i>, -applauds, as we find, the practice of Ægypt, in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">182</span> -suffering no change of her poetry, but continuing, -to his time, her fondness for the <i>Songs of Isis</i> [De -Leg. l. ii. sub. init.] which just as much infers the -perfection of those songs, considered in a critical -view, as Rome’s sticking to her <i>Saliar verses</i> would -have shewn those poor, obscure orisons to have exceeded -the regular odes and artificial compositions of -Horace. And it was this kind of criticism which, -as I suppose, the poet intended to expose in the -famous verses, which I explain in note on v. 202. -2. That the <i>latter</i>, the principal of them at least, -who talk in the same strain, lived under the Emperors; -in whose time, indeed, music had undergone -a miserable prostitution, <i>being broken</i>, as one of -the best of those writers complains, <i>into an effeminate -and impure delicacy</i>—<i>In scenis effeminata et -impudicis modis fracta</i>, [Quint. <small>I.</small> l. x.] As to the -times in question, I know but of one passage, which -clearly and expresly condemns the music then in -vogue; and that will admit of some alleviation from -its being found in a treatise concerning laws. The -passage I mean is in Cicero, [De Leg. l. ii. 15.] -who, following Plato in his high-flown principles of -legislation, exclames, <i>Illa quæ solebant quondam -compleri severitate jucunda Livianis et Nævianis -modis; nunc ut eadem exultent, cervices oculosque -pariter eum</i> <span class="smcap">Modorum flexionibus</span> <i>torqueant!</i> -For the <i>severitas jucunda</i> of the music, to which -Livius’s plays were set, it may be tolerably guessed -from hence, that he was the <i>first</i> who brought a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">183</span> -written Play upon the stage; <i>i. e.</i> the first writer -whose plays were acted to a regular and precomposed -music. And it is not, we know, very usual for the -first essays in any art to be perfect. It should seem -then, that the <i>flexiones modorum</i>, as opposed to -the plainness of the old music, are here condemned, -not so much in the view of a critic, estimating the -true state of the stage; but, as was hinted, of a legislator, -treading in the steps of Plato. Though indeed -I have no doubt, that the music in those times -was much changed, and had even suffered some degree -of corruption. This I infer, not so much from -any express authorities that have occurred, as from -the general state of those times, which were degenerating -apace into the worst morals, the sure fore-runners -of a corrupt and vitiated music; for, though -it may indeed, in its turn, and doubtless does, when -established, contribute much to help on the public -depravity, yet that depravity itself is originally not -the <i>effect</i>, but the <i>cause</i> of a bad music; as is more -than hinted to be Cicero’s real opinion in the place -referred to, where, observing that the manners of -many Greek states had kept pace with their music, -he adds, that they had undergone this change, <i>Aut -hac dulcedine corruptelaque depravati, ut quidam -putant; aut cum severitas eorum ob alia vitia cecidisset, -tum fuit in auribus animisque mutatis etiam -huic mutationi locus</i>. [Leg. ii. 15.] But be this as -it will, Horace, as we have seen, is no way concerned -in the dispute about the ancient music. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">184</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>219. <span class="smcap">Sententia Delphis.</span>] <i>Sententia</i> is properly -<i>an aphorism taken from life, briefly representing -either what is, or what ought to be the conduct of it</i>: -<i>Oratio sumpta de vita, quæ aut quid sit, aut quid -esse oporteat, in vita, breviter ostendit</i>. [Ad Herenn. -Rhet. l. iv.] These aphorisms are here mentioned, -as constituting the peculiar praise and beauty of the -chorus. This is finely observed, and was intended -to convey an oblique censure on the practice of those -poets, who stuff out every part of the drama alike -with moral sentences, not considering, that the only -proper receptacle of them is the chorus, where indeed -they have an extreme propriety; it being the peculiar -office and character of the chorus to moralize. In -the course of the action they should rarely be used; -and that for the plain reason assigned by the author, -just quoted, [for the rule holds on the stage, as well -as at the bar] <i>Ut rei actores, non vivendi præceptores, -esse videamur</i>. That there was some ground -for this reproof of the Roman drama, is collected -from the few remaining fragments of the old Latin -plays, which have much of this sententious cast, and -from what Quintilian expresly tells us of the old -Latin poets, whose fame, it seems, was principally -raised upon this merit. <i>Tragœdiæ scriptores, -Accius et Pacuvius, clarissimi gravitate sententiarum, -&c.</i> [l. x. c. 1.] To how intolerable an -extreme this humour of moralizing in plays was -afterwards carried, Seneca has given us an example. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">185</span></p> - -<p>But here a question will be started, “Why then -did the Greeks moralize so much, or, if we condemn -<i>Accius</i> and <i>Seneca</i>, how shall we defend -<i>Sophocles</i> and <i>Euripides</i>?” An ingenious<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">18</a> modern -hath taken some pains to satisfy this difficulty, -and in part, I think, hath succeeded. His -solution, in brief, is, “That the moral and political -aphorisms of the Greek stage generally contained -some apt and interesting allusion to the state of -public affairs, which was easily catched by a quick, -intelligent auditory; and not a dry, affected moral, -without further meaning, as for the most part was -that of the Latins.” This account is not a little -confirmed by particular instances of such acknowledged -allusions, as well as from reflexions on the -genius and government of the Athenians, at large. -But this, though it goes some way, does not fully -extricate the matter. The truth is, these sentences -are too thick sown in the Greek writers, to be fully -accounted for from the single consideration of their -democratical views. Not to observe, that the very -choice of this <i>medium</i> for the conveyance of their -political applications, presupposes the prior acknowledged -use and authority of it. I would then account -for it in the following manner.</p> - -<p>I. In the virtuous simplicity of less polished times, -this spirit of moralizing is very prevalent; the good -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">186</span> -sense of such people always delighting to shew itself -in sententious or proverbial γνῶμαι, or observations. -Their character, like that of the clown in Shakespear, -is <i>to be very swift and sententious</i>. [As you like it, -Act v. sc. 1.] This is obvious to common experience, -and was long since observed by the <i>philosopher</i>, -οἱ ἄγροικοι μάλιστα γνωμοτύποι εἰσὶ, καὶ ῥᾳδίως -ἀποφάινονται, [Arist. Rhet. l. ii. c. 21.] an observation, -which of itself accounts for the practice -of the elder poets in Greece, as in all other nations. -A custom, thus introduced, is not easily laid aside, -especially when the oracular cast of these sentences, -so fitted to <i>strike</i>, and the moral views of writers -themselves (which was more particularly true of the -old dramatists) concurred to favour this taste. But, -2. there was added to this, more especially in the age -of Sophocles and Euripides, a general prevailing -fondness for moral wisdom, which seems to have -made the fashionable study of men of all ranks in -those days; when schools of philosophy were resorted -to for recreation as well as instruction, and a knowledge -in morals was the supreme accomplishment -in vogue: The fruit of these philosophical conferences -would naturally shew itself in certain brief, -sententious conclusions, which would neither contradict -the fashion, nor, it seems, offend against the -ease and gaiety of conversation in those times. -<i>Schools</i> and <i>pedantry</i>, <i>morals</i> and <i>austerity</i>, were -not so essentially connected, in their combinations -of ideas, as they have been since; and a sensible -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">187</span> -moral truth might have fallen from any mouth, without -disgracing it. Nay, which is very remarkable, -the very <i>scholia</i>, as they were called, or drinking -catches of the Greeks, were seasoned with this moral -turn; the sallies of pleasantry, which escaped them -in their freest hours, being tempered for the most -part, by some strokes of this national sobriety. -“During the course of their entertainments, says -Athenæus, [l. xv. c. 14.] they loved to hear, from -some wise and prudent person, an agreeable song: -and those songs were held by them most agreeable, -which contained exhortations to virtue, or other -instructions relative to their conduct in life.”</p> - -<p>And to give the reader a taste of these <i>moral</i> -songs, I will take leave to present him with a very -fine one, written by no less a person than Aristotle -himself; and the rather, as I have it in my power -to present him, at the same time, with an elegant -translation of it. But its best recommendation will -be that it comes from the same hand which has so -agreeably entertained us of late with some spirited -imitations of Horace<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">19</a>.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ἀρετὰ πολύμοχθε γένει βροτείῳ,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Θήραμα κάλλιστον βίῳ.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Σᾶς πέρι, Παρθένε, μορφᾶς<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Καὶ θανεῖν ζηλωτὸς ἐν Ἑλλάδι πότμος,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Καὶ πόνους τλῆναι μαλεροὺς ἀκάμαντας.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">188</span> -<span class="i0">Τοῖον ἐπὶ φρένα βάλλεις καρπὸν εἰς ἀθάνατον,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Χρυσοῦ τε κρέσσω καὶ γονέων,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Μαλακαυγητοῖό θ’ ὕπνου.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Σοῦ δ’ ἕνεκ’ ἐκ Διὸς Ἡρακλέης<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Λήδας τε κοῦροι πόλλ’ ἀνέτλασαν,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ἔργοις σὰν ἀγορεύοντες δύναμιν.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Σοῖς τε πόθοις Ἀχιλλεὺς<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Αἴας τ’ αἴδαο δόμους ἦλθον·<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Σᾶς δ’ ἕνεκα φιλίου μορφᾶς<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ἀταρνέως ἔντροφος<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ἀελίου χήρωσεν αὐγάς.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Τοίγαρ ἀοίδιμον ἔργοις,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ἀθάνατόν τε μιν αὐξήσουσι μοῦσαι,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Μναμοσύνας θύγατρες,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Διὸς ξενίου σέβας αὔξουσαι<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Φιλίας τε γέρας βεβαίου<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">20</a>.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">189</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="caption">I.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hail, Virtue! Goddess! sov’reign Good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By man’s bold race with pain pursu’d!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where’er thou dart’st thy radiant eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Greece sees her sons with transport fly;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Danger before thee disappears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And death’s dark frown no terror wears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="caption">II.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So full into the breast of man descends<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy rich ambrosial show’r;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A show’r, that gold, that parents far transcends,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or, sleep’s soft-soothing pow’r.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="caption">III.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By thee <span class="smcap">Alcides</span> soar’d to fame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy influence <span class="smcap">Leda’s</span> twins proclaim;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heroes for thee have dauntless trod<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dreary paths of hell’s abode;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fir’d by thy form, all beamy bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Atarneus’ nursling left the light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="caption">IV.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His deeds, his social love (so will the nine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Proud to spread wide the praise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of friendship and of friendly Jove) shall shine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With ever-living rays.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This moralizing humour, so prevalent in those -times, is, I dare be confident, the true source of -the sententious cast of the Greek dramatic writers, -as well as of that sober air of moral, which, to the -no small disgust of modern writers, is spread over all -their poets. Not but there would be some difference -in those poets themselves, and in proportion as they -had been more or less conversant in the Academy, -would be their relish of this moral mode; as is -clearly seen in the case of Euripides, that philosopher -of the stage, as the Athenians called him, and -who is characterized by Quinctilian, as <i>sententiis -densus, et in iis, quæ a sapientibus tradita sunt, -pæne ipsis par</i>. [L. x. c. 1.] Yet still the fashion -was so general, that no commerce of the world -could avoid, or wholly get clear of it; and therefore -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">191</span> -Sophocles, though his engagements in the state kept -him at a greater distance from the schools, had yet -his share of this philosophical humour. Now this -apology for the practice of the Greek poets doth by -no means extend to the Roman; Philosophy having -been very late, and never generally, the taste of -Rome.</p> - -<p>Cicero says, <i>Philosophia quidem tantum abest ut -proinde, ac de hominum est vitâ merita, laudetur, -ut a plerisque neglecta, a multis etiam vituperetur</i>. -In another place he tells us, that in his time Aristotle -was not much known, or read, even by the philosophers -themselves. [<i>Cic. Top. sub init.</i>]</p> - -<p>And, though in the age of Seneca, <i>Sentences</i>, -we know, were much in use, yet the cast and turn -of them evidently shew them to have been the affectation -of the lettered <i>few</i>, and not the <i>general</i> -mode and practice of the time. For the quaintness, -in which Seneca’s aphorisms are dressed, manifestly -speaks the labour and artifice of the closet, and is -just the reverse of that easy, simple expression, -which cloaths them in the Greek poets, thus demonstrating -their familiar currency in common life. -Under any other circumstances than these, the -practice, as was observed, must be unquestionably -faulty; except only in the chorus, where for the -reason before given, it may always, with good advantage, -be employed. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">192</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>220. <span class="smcap">Carmine qui tragico</span>, &c.] The connexion -with v. 201, from whence the poet had digressed, -is worth observing. The digression had -been taken up in describing the improved state of -dramatic music; the application of which to the -case of tragedy, brings him round again to his subject, -the tragic chorus; to which alone, as hath -been observed, the two last lines refer. This too is -the finest preparation of what follows. For to have -passed on directly from the <i>tibia</i> to the <i>satyrs</i>, had -been abrupt and inartificial; but from <i>tragedy</i>, the -transition is easy, the <i>satyrs</i> being a species of the -tragic drama. That it was so accounted may be -seen from the following passage in Ovid,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Est et in obscænos deflexa tragædia risus,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Multaque præteriti verba pudoris habet</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="author">Trist. l. ii. v. 409.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>For the <i>tragedy</i>, here referred to, cannot be the regular -Roman tragedy. <i>That</i> he had distinctly considered -before, and, besides, it in no age admitted, -much less in this, of which we are speaking, so intolerable -a mixture. As little can it be understood of -the proper Atellane fable, for besides that Ovid is here -considering the <i>Greek</i> drama only, the Atellane was -ever regarded as a species, not of tragedy, but comedy: -The authority of Donatus is very express; “<i>Comædiarum</i> -formæ sunt tres: Palliatæ, Togatæ, <i>Atellanæ</i>, -salibus et jocis compositæ, quæ in se non habent -nisi vetustam elegantiam.” [Prol. in Terent.] -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">193</span> -And Athenæus [l. vi.] speaking of some pieces of this -sort, which L. Sylla had composed, calls them σατυρικὰς -κωμῳδίας, satyric comedies; <i>comedies</i>, because, -ss Donatus says, “salibus et jocis compositæ:” and <i>satyric</i>, -not that satyrs were introduced in them, but, -according to Diomedes, from their being “argumentis -dictisque <i>similes</i> satyricis fabulis Græcis.” Of -what then can Ovid be understood to speak, but the -true satyric piece, which was always esteemed, and, -as appears from the Cyclops, in fact is, what Demetrius -[περὶ ἑρμηνείας] elegantly calls it, τραγῳδία -παιζούση, a lighter kind of <i>tragedy</i>; the very name, -which Horace, as well as Ovid in this place, gives -to it? But this is further clear from the instance -quoted by Ovid, of this loose tragedy; for he proceeds:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Nec nocet autori, mollem qui fecit Achillem,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Infregisse suis fortia facta modis</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>which well agrees to the idea of a satyric piece, and, -as Vossius takes notice, seems to be the very same -subject, which Athenæus and others tell us, Sophocles -had work’d into a satyric tragedy, under the -title of Ἀχιλλέως ἐρασταί.</p> - -<p>221. <span class="smcap">Mox etiam</span>, &c.] It is not the intention -of these notes to retail the accounts of others. I -must therefore refer the reader, for whatever concerns -the history of the satyric, as I have hitherto done, -of the tragic, and comic drama, to the numerous -dissertators on the ancient stage; and above all, in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">194</span> -the case before us, to the learned Casaubon; from -whom all that hath been said to any purpose, by -modern writers, hath been taken. Only it will be -proper to observe one or two particulars, which have -been greatly misunderstood, and without which it -will be impossible, in any tolerable manner, to explane -what follows.</p> - -<p>I. The design of the poet, in these lines, is not to -fix the origin of the satyric piece, in ascribing the -invention of it to Thespis. This hath been concluded, -without the least warrant from his own -words, which barely tell us, “that the Representation -of tragedy was in elder Greece, followed by -the <i>satyrs</i>;” and indeed the nature of the thing, -as well as the testimony of all antiquity, shews it to -be impossible. For the <i>satyr</i> here spoken of, is, -in all respects, a regular drama, and therefore could -not be of earlier date, than the times of Æschylus, -when the constitution of the drama was first formed. -’Tis true indeed, there was a kind of entertainment -of much greater antiquity, which by the ancients -is sometimes called <i>satyric</i>, out of which (as Aristotle -assures us) tragedy itself arose, ἡ δὲ τραγῳδία, -διὰ τὸ ἐκ σατυρικοῦ μεταβαλεῖν, ὀψὲ ἀπεσεμνώθη, -[περ. ποιητ. κ. δ.] But then this was nothing but -a chorus of satyrs [Athenæus, l. xiv.] celebrating -the festivals of <i>Bacchus</i>, with rude songs, and uncouth -dances; and had little resemblance to that, -which was afterwards called <i>satyric</i>; which, except -that it retained the chorus of satyrs, and turned -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">195</span> -upon some subject relative to Bacchus, was of a -quite different structure, and, in every respect, as -regular a composition, as tragedy itself.</p> - -<p>II. There is no doubt but the poem, here distinguished -by the name of <span class="smcap">Satyri</span>, was in actual use on -the Roman stage. This appears from the turn of the -poet’s whole criticism upon it. Particularly, his -address to the Pisos, v. 235. and his observation of -the offence which a loose dialogue in this drama -would give to a <i>Roman</i> auditory, v. 248. make it -evident that he had, in fact, the practice of his own -stage in view. It hath, however, been questioned, -whether by <i>Satyri</i> we are to understand the proper -Greek <i>Satyrs</i>, or the Latin <i>Atellane</i> fable, which, -in the main of its character, very much resembled -that drama. If the authority of Diomedes be any -thing, the <i>former</i> must be the truth, for he expresly -asserts, “that the Satyric and Atellane pieces, though -similar in the general cast of their composition, -differed in this essential point, that the persons in -the former were satyrs, in the other, not.” [L. iii. -c. De poëm. gen.] Now the poet expresly tells us, -the Persons in the drama he is here describing, -were <i>Satyrs</i>, and accordingly delivers rules for the -regulation of their characters. As to the <i>Atellane</i>, -according to the way in which Vossius reads the -words of Diomedes, the characters were <i>Oscan</i>, -<i>personæ Oscæ</i>, which is very probable, not so -much for the reasons assign’d by this Critic (for -they are indeed very frivolous) but because, as it -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">196</span> -should seem from a passage in Strabo, [Lib. v. 233.] -the language of the <span class="smcap">Osci</span> was used in these Atellanes, -and therefore common sense would require, that -the persons also introduced should be Oscan. The -difficulty is to know how it happened that, in a -work written purposely to reform the Roman stage, -the poet should say nothing of one species, the <i>Atellane</i>, -which was of great authority and constant use -at Rome, and yet say so much of another, the <i>Satyrs</i>, -which was properly a Greek entertainment and -certainly much less cultivated by the Roman poets. -The plain solution of the matter, is, that, when -now the Romans were become acquainted with the -Greek models, and had applied themselves to the -imitation of them, these Oscan characters were exchanged -for the Greek satyrs, which they before resembled -in the main parts of their character; and -which appear, on other occasions, to have been no -strangers at Rome; as we collect from the Sileni -and Satyrs making a part (as Dionysius relates it) in -their triumphal processions. So that this change of -the Oscan persons for <i>Satyrs</i> is to be considered -only as an improvement of the old <i>Atellane</i>, and -not the introduction of an intirely new drama. In -every other respect the precepts here given for the -regulation of the <i>Satyrs</i> are such as would equally -serve to improve the <i>Atellane</i>. The probable reason -why the poet chose to insist so much on this -alteration, or rather why he laboured so strenuously -to <i>support</i> it, will be given in its place. In the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">197</span> -mean time supposing his view to have been this of -countenancing the introduction of <i>satyric persons</i> -into the Atellane (and that they were, in fact, introduced, -we learn from an express authority<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">21</a>) every -thing said on the subject will not only be pertinent -and agreeable to what is here taught to be the general -tenor of the epistle, but will be seen to have an address -and contrivance, which will very much illustrate -this whole part, and recommend it to the -exact reader.</p> - -<p>But before I quit this subject of the Atellane fable -it will be proper to observe, That when I every -where speak of it, as of early original, and ancient -use on the Roman stage, I am not unmindful that -Velleius Paterculus speaks of Pomponius as the Inventor -of this Poem; which, if taken in the strict -sense, will bring the date of it very low. “Sane -non ignoremus eâdem ætate fuisse Pomponium, -sensibus celebrem, verbis rudem, et <i>novitate inventi -a se operis</i> commendabilem.” L. ii. c. ix. -For the age he is speaking of is that of <span class="smcap">Sylla</span>. But -the authorities for the high antiquity of the Atellane -fable are so express, that, when Pomponius is called -the <i>Inventor</i> of it, it is but as Horace calls Lucilius -the Inventor of the Roman Satire. That is, he -made so considerable a change in the form and -conduct of this poem, as to run away with all the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">198</span> -honour of it. The improvements made by Lucilius -in Satire have been taken notice of in the <i>Introduction</i>. -And it happens that a curious passage in -Athenæus will let us into the Improvements made -by Pomponius in the Atellanes.</p> - -<p>But first we are to understand that this sort of -entertainment, as the name speaks, was imported -to Rome from <span class="smcap">Atella</span>, a town of the <span class="smcap">Osci</span> in Campania; -and that the Dialect of that people was constantly -and <i>only</i> used in it, even when the Osci -themselves had ceased to be a people. This we -learn from Strabo. ΟΣΚΩΝ ἐκλελοιπότων, ἡ διάλεκτος -μένει παρὰ τοῖς Ρωμαίοις· ὧστε καὶ ποιήματα -σκηνοβατεῖσθαι κατά τινα ἀγῶνα πάτριον καὶ μιμολογεῖσθαι. L. v. 233.</p> - -<p>The <span class="smcap">Oscan</span> language, we see, was made use of in -the Atellane plays, just as the Welsh, or some -Provincial Dialect, is often employed in our Comedies.</p> - -<p>But now we learn from Athenæus that L. Sylla -writ some of these Atellanes in the <span class="smcap">Roman language</span>. -ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ γραφεῖσαι σατυρικαὶ κωμῳδίαι ΤΗΙ -ΠΑΤΡΩΩΙ ΦΩΝΗΙ. [L. vi. p. 261. Ed. Casaub.] -The difficulty then clears up. For the Pomponius -whom Velleius speaks of was contemporary with L. -Sylla. So that to give any propriety to the term of -<i>Inventor</i>, as applied to Pomponius, we must conclude -that he was the <i>first</i> person who set this example -of composing Atellane plays in the vulgar -dialect: which took so much that he was even followed -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">199</span> -in this practice by the Roman General. This -account of the matter perfectly suits with the encomium -given to Pomponius. He would naturally, -on such an alteration, endeavour to give this buffoon -sort of Comedy a more rational cast: And this reform -of itself would entitle him to great honour. -Hence the <small>SENSIBUS CELEBRIS</small> of Paterculus<a id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">22</a>. But -to preserve some sort of resemblance (which the -people would look for) to the old Atellane, and not -to strip it of all the pleasantry arising from the barbarous -dialect, he affected, it seems, the <i>antique</i> in -the turn of his expression. Hence the other part of -his character (which in the politer age of Paterculus -grew offensive to nice judges) <small>VERBIS RUDIS</small>.</p> - -<p>The conclusion is, That the Atellane Fable was -in its first rude form and Oscan Dialect of ancient -use at Rome, where it was admitted, as Strabo -speaks, ΚΑΤΑ ΤΙΝΑ ΑΓΩΝΑ ΠΑΤΡΙΟΝ: That -Pomponius afterwards <i>reformed</i> its barbarities, and -brought it on the Stage in a <i>Roman</i> dress; which -together were thought so great improvements, that -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">200</span> -later writers speak of him as the <span class="smcap">Inventor</span> of this -Poem. But to return to our proper subject, the -<i>Greek Satyrs</i>.</p> - -<p>III. For the absolute merit of these satyrs, the -reader will judge of it himself by comparing the Cyclops, -the only piece of this kind remaining to us -from antiquity, with the rules here delivered by -Horace. Only it may be observed, in addition to -what the reader will find elsewhere [<i>n.</i> v. 223.] apologized -in its favour, that the double character of -the satyrs admirably fitted it, as well for a sensible -entertainment to the wise, as for the sport and diversion -of the vulgar. For while the grotesque appearance, -and jesting vein of these fantastic personages -amused the one; the other saw much further; -and considered them, at the same time, as replete -with science, and informed by a spirit of the most -abstruse wisdom. Hence important lessons of civil -prudence, interesting allusions to public affairs, or -a high, refined moral, might, with the highest probability, -be insinuated, under the slight cover of a -rustic simplicity. And from this instructive cast, -which from its nature must be very obscure, if not -impenetrable, to us at this day, was, I doubt not, -derived the principal pleasure which the ancients -found in this species of the drama. If the modern -reader would conceive any thing of the nature and -degree of this pleasure, he may in part guess at it, -from reflecting on the entertainment he himself receives -from the characters of the clowns in Shakespear; -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">201</span> -<i>who</i>, as the poet himself hath characterized -them, <i>use their folly, like a stalking horse, and, -under the presentation of that, shoot their wit</i>. -[As you like it.]</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>221. <span class="smcap">Agrestis satyros</span>, &c.] It hath been -shewn, that the poet could not intend, in these -lines, to <i>fix the origin of the satyric drama</i>. But, -though this be certain, and the dispute concerning -that point be thereby determined, yet is it to be -noted, that he purposely describes the satyr in its -ruder and less polished form; glancing even at some -barbarities, which deform the Bacchic chorus; which -was properly the satyric piece, before Æschylus had, -by his regular constitution of the drama, introduced -it, under a very different form on the stage. The -reason of this conduct is given in <i>n.</i> on v. 203. -Hence the propriety of the word <i>nudavit</i>, which -Lambin rightly interprets, <i>nudos introduxit Satyros</i>, -the poet hereby expressing the monstrous indecorum -of this entertainment in its first unimproved state. -Alluding also to this ancient character of the <i>Satyr</i>, -he calls him <i>asper</i>, i. e. rude and petulant; and -even adds, that his jests were intemperate, and -without the <i>least mixture of gravity</i>. For thus, -upon the authority of a very ingenious and learned -critic, I explane <i>incolumi gravitate</i>, i. e. rejecting -every thing serious, bidding <i>farewell</i>, as we say, -<i>to all gravity</i>. Thus [L. iii. O. 5.]</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Incolumi Jove et urbe Roma;</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">202</span> -<i>i. e.</i> bidding farewell to Jupiter [Capitolinus] and -Rome; agreeably to what is said just before,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Anciliorum et nominis et togæ</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oblitus</span>, <i>æternæque Vestæ</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>or, as <small>SALVUS</small> is used still more remarkably in Martial -[10. l. v.]</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Ennius est lectus</i> <small>SALVO</small> <i>tibi, Roma, Marone:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Et sua riserunt secula Mæonidem.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><i>Farewell, all gravity</i>, is as remote from the original -sense of the words <i>fare well</i>, as <i>incolumi gravitate</i> -from that of <i>incolumis</i>, or <i>salvo Marone</i> from -that of <i>salvus</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>223. <span class="smcap">Inlecebris erat et grata novitate morandus -Spectator—</span>] The poet gives us in these -words the reason, why such gross Ribaldry, as we -know the Atellanes consisted of, was endured by the -politest age of Rome. Scenical representations, -being then intended, not, as in our days, for the -entertainment of the better sort, but on certain -great solemnities, indifferently for the diversion of -the whole city, it became necessary to consult the -taste of the multitude, as well as of those, <i>quibus -est equus, et pater et res</i>.</p> - -<p>And this reason is surely sufficient to vindicate -the poet from the censure of a late critic, who has -fallen upon this part of the epistle with no mercy. -“The poet, says he, spends a great number of -verses about these satyrs; but the subject itself is -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">203</span> -unworthy his pen. He, who could not bear the -elegant mimes of Laberius, that he should think -this farcical and obscene trash, worth his peculiar -notice, is somewhat strange.” I doubt not, it appeared -so to this writer, who neither considered the -peculiar necessity of the satyric piece, nor attended -to the poet’s purpose and drift in this epistle. The -former is the more extraordinary, because he hath -told us, and rightly too, “that, to content the -people, the satyric was superadded to the tragic -drama.” And he quotes a passage from Diomedes, -which gives the same account, <i>Satyros induxerunt -ludendi causa jocandique, simul ut spectator inter -res tragicas seriasque satyrorum quoque jocis et -ludis delectaretur</i>. Should not this have taught -him, that what was so requisite to content the people, -might deserve some notice from the poet? -This <i>farcical trash</i> was chiefly calculated for those, -who without the <i>enticement of so agreeable a change</i> -in the entertainment of the day, would not have -had patience to sit out the tragedy; which being -intended for the gratification of the better sort, -<i>urbani et honesti</i>, they, in their turn, required to be -diverted in the only way, which was to the level of -their taste, that of farce and pleasantry. And this -I dare be confident, so great a patron of liberty, as -this writer, will agree with me in thinking to be but -reasonable in a free state; which ought to make some -provision for the <i>few</i>, that may chance, even under -such advantages, to want a truly critical spirit. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">204</span> -I hold then, that Horace acted, not only in the -character of a good critic, but of a prudent man, and -good citizen, in attempting to refine, what it had -not been equitable, or was not in his power, wholly -to remove. But 2. the learned critic as little attended -to the drift of the epistle, as to the important use -and necessity of the satyric drama. He must otherwise -have seen, that, in an essay to improve and regulate -the Roman theatre (which is the sole purpose -of it) the poet’s business was to take it, as it then -stood, and to confine himself to such defects and -abuses, as he found most likely to admit a correction, -and not, as visionary projectors use, to propose -a thorough reform of the public taste in every -instance. The <i>Atellanes</i> had actual possession -of the stage, and, from their antiquity, and other -prejudices in their favour, as well as from the very -design and end of their theatrical entertainments, -would be sure to keep it. What had the poet then, -in these circumstances, to do but, in pursuance -of his main design, to encourage a reformation of -that entertainment, which he was not at liberty absolutely, -and under every shape, to reject. This he -judged might most conveniently be done by adopting -the Greek <i>Satyrs</i> instead of their own <i>Oscan</i> characters. -With this change, though the Atellanes might -not, perhaps, be altogether to his own taste, yet he -hoped to render it a tolerable entertainment to the -better sort. And this, in fact, it might have been -by following the directions here given; part of which -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">205</span> -were intended to free it from that <i>obscene and farcical -trash</i>, which appears to have been no less offensive -to the poet, than to this critic.</p> - -<p>As for the so much applauded <i>mimes</i>, they had -not, it is probable, at this time gained a footing on -the stage, sufficient to entitle them to so much consideration. -This was a new upstart species of the -drama, which, though it had the common good-fortune -of absurd novelties, to take with the great; -yet was generally disapproved by men of better taste, -and better morals. Cicero had passed a severe censure -upon it in one of his epistles, [Ad famil. ix. 16.] -which intimates, that it was of a more buffoon and -ridiculous composition, than their Atellanes; whose -place it began to be the fashion to supply with this -ribaldry. And we collect the same thing from what -Ovid observes of it in apology for the looseness of -his own verses,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Quid si scripsissem</i> <small>MIMOS</small> <i>obscœna jocantes,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Qui semper vetiti crimen amoris habent?</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Nec satis incestis temerari vocibus</i> aures,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Assuescunt</i> oculi <i>multa pudenda pati</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="author">Trist. l. ii. v. 497.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Horace, with this writer’s leave, might therefore -judge it better to retain the Atellanes under some -restrictions, than adopt what was much worse. But -the mimes of Laberius were quite another thing. -They were all elegance. So J. Scaliger [Comment, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">206</span> -de Comœd. et Tragœd. c. vi.] and, after him, this -writer, tells us; but on no better grounds, than that -he wrote good Latin (though not always that, as -may be seen in A. Gellius, l. xvi. c. 7.) and hath left a -few elegant, moral scraps behind him. But what then? -the kind of composition was ridiculous and absurd, -and, in every view, far less tolerable, than the <i>satyrs</i> -under the regulation of Horace. The latter was a -regular drama, consisting of an intire fable, conducted -according to the rules of probability and good sense, -only dashed with a little extravagance for the sake -of the mob. The character of the former hath been -given above from unquestionable authorities. Accordingly -Diomedes [iii. p. 488. ed. Putsch.] defines -it to be <i>an irreverent and lascivious imitation of obscene -acts</i>—<i>mimus est sermonis cujuslibet motus sine -reverentia, vel factorum et turpium cum lascivia -imitatio</i>. And Scaliger himself owns <i>veri mimi -proprium esse quædam sordida ut affectet</i>, loc. cit. -It seems, in short, to have been a confused medley -of comic drollery on a variety of subjects, without -any consistent order or design; delivered by one -actor, and heightened with all the licence of obscene -gesticulation. Its best character, as practised by its -greatest master, Laberius, was that of being witty -in a very bad way [Sen. Controv. l. iii. c. 18.] and its -sole end and boast, <i>risu diducere rictum</i> [Hor. i. S. -x. 7.] which, whatever virtue it may be, is not always -a proof of much elegance. But I have spent too -many words on a criticism, which the ingenious -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">207</span> -author, I am persuaded, let fall unawares, and did -not mean to give us as the result of a mature and well-weighed -deliberation on this subject.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>225. <span class="smcap">Verum ita risores</span>, &c.] The connecting -particle, <i>verum</i>, expresses the opposition intended -between the original satyr and that which -the poet approves. For having insinuated the propriety -of the satyric shews, as well from the practice -of Greece, as the nature of festival solemnities, the -poet goes on to animadvert on their defects, and to -prescribe such rules, in the conduct of them, as -might render them a tolerable diversion, even to -the better sort. This introduction of the subject -hath no small art. For, there being at this time -(as hath been shewn) an attempt to bring in the -Greek satyrs, while the Atellane plays (as was likely) -still held the affections of the people, the poet was -not openly to reproach and discredit these; but, by -a tacit preference, to support and justify the other. -This is done with address. For, instead of criticising -the Atellanes, which came directly in his way, -after having closed his account of the Roman tragedy, -he relates, as it were, incidentally, the practice -of ancient Greece in exhibiting satyrs, and -thence immediately passes on, without so much -as touching on the other favourite entertainment, -to offer some directions concerning the satyric -drama. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">208</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>227. <span class="smcap">Ne quicunque Deus, quicunque adhibebitur -heros</span>, &c.] Gods and Heroes were introduced -as well into the satyric as tragic drama, and -often the very same Gods and Heroes, which had born -a part in the preceding tragedy: a practice, which -Horace, I suppose, intended, by this hint, to recommend -as most regular. This gave the serious, tragic -air to the satyr. The comic arose from the <i>risor</i> -and <i>dicax</i>, who was either a satyr himself, or some -character of an extravagant, ridiculous cast, like a -satyr. Of this kind, says Diomedes, from whom I -take this account, are Autolychus and Burris: -which last particular I mention for the sake of justifying -a correction of the learned Casaubon. This -great critic conjectured, that, instead of <i>Burris</i>, in -this place, it should be read <i>Busiris</i>. His reason -is “<i>nam Burris iste ex Græcorum poetis mihi non -notus</i>:” which reason hath more force, than appears -at first sight. For the very nature of this diversion -required, that the principal character of it -should be well known, which it was scarce likely to -be, if not taken from a common story in their poets. -But Vossius objects, “<i>sed non ea fuerit persona -ridicula</i>:” contrary to what the grammarian represents -it. But how so? Busiris was a savage, inhospitable -tyrant, who sacrificed strangers. And what -should hinder this character from being made ridiculous, -as well as Polypheme in the Cyclops? -Their characters were not unlike. And, as is seen -in that case, the ancients knew to set forth such -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">209</span> -monsters of cruelty in a light, that rendered them -equally absurd and detestable. This was agreeable -to their humanity, which, by such representations, -loved to cultivate a spirit of benevolence in the spectators; -and shews the moral tendency of even the -absurdest of the ancient dramatic shews. The objection -of Vossius is then of no weight. But what -further confirms the emendation of the excellent -Casaubon, is a manuscript note on the margin of a -printed copy of this book<a id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">23</a>, which I have now by me, -as it should seem, from his own hand, “<i>lectionem -vero quam restituimus etiam in optimo codice -Puteano postea invenimus</i>.” The learned reader -will therefore, henceforth, look upon the text of -<i>Diomedes</i>, in this place, as fully settled.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>229. <span class="smcap">Migret in obscuras</span> &c.—<span class="smcap">Aut, dum vitat</span> -&c.] The two faults, cautioned against, are 1. -a too low, or vulgar expression, in the comic parts; -and 2. a too sublime one, in the tragic. The <i>former</i> -of these faults would almost naturally adhere to the -first essays of the Roman satyrs, from the buffoon -genius of the old Atellane: and the <i>latter</i>, from not -apprehending the true measure and degree of the -tragic mixture. To correct both these, the poet -gives the exactest idea of the satyrs, in the image of -a Roman matron, sharing in the mirth of a religious -festival. The occasion obliged to some freedoms: -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">210</span> -and yet the dignity of her character demanded a decent -reserve.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>234. <span class="smcap">Non ego inornata</span> &c.] The scope of -these lines may be to regulate the satyric style, by -the idea of its character, before given, in the allusion -to a Roman matron. Conformably to that idea, -a plain, unornamented expression [from v. 234 to -236.] must not always be used. The three following -lines inforce this general application by example.</p> - -<p>If the exact reader find himself dissatisfied with -this gloss, which seems the only one, the words, as -they now stand, will bear, he may, perhaps, incline -to admit the following conjecture, which -proposes to read, instead of <i>inornata</i>, <i>honorata</i>. -I. The context, I think, requires this change. For -the two faults observed above [v. 229, 30.] were, 1. -a too low expression, and, 2. a too lofty. Corresponding -to this double charge, the poet having -fixed the idea of this species of composition [v. 231, -2, 3.] should naturally be led to apply it to both -points in questions: 1. to the comic part, in prescribing -the true measure of its condescension, and, -2. to the tragic, in settling the true bounds of its -elevation. And this, according to the reading here -offered, the poet doth, only in an inverted order. -The sense of the whole would be this,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">1. <i>Non ego</i> <span class="smcap">Honorata</span> <i>et dominantia nomina solum</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Verbaque, Pisones, satyrorum scriptor amabo</i>:<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">211</span> -<i>i. e.</i> in the tragic scenes, I would not confine myself -to such words only, as are in honour, and bear rule -in tragic, and the most serious subjects; this stateliness -not agreeing to the condescending levity of -the satyr.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">2. <i>Nec sic enitar tragico differre colori,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Ut nihil intersit Davusne loquatur, et audax</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Pythias, emuncto lucrata Simone talentum,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>An custos famulusque Dei Silenus alumni.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><i>i. e.</i> nor, on the contrary, in the comic scenes, -would I incur the other extreme of a too plain, and -vulgar expression, this as little suiting its inherent -matronlike dignity. But, II. this correction improves -the <i>expression</i> as well as the <i>sense</i>. For besides -the opposition, implied in the disjunctive, <i>nec</i>, -which is this way restored, <i>dominantia</i> hath now -its genuine sense, and not that strange and foreign -one forced upon it out of the Greek language. As -connected with <i>honorata</i>, it becomes a metaphor, -elegantly pursued; and hath too a singular propriety, -the poet here speaking of figurative terms. -And then, for <i>honorata</i> itself, it seems to have been -a familiar mode of expression with Horace. Thus -[2 Ep. ii. 112.] <i>honore indigna vocabula</i> are such -words as have <i>parum splendoris</i> and are <i>sine pondere</i>. -And “<i>quæ sunt in honore vocabula</i>” is -spoken of the contrary ones, such as are fit to -enter into a serious tragic composition, in this -very epistle, v. 71. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">212</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>240. <span class="smcap">Ex noto fictum</span> &c.] This precept [from -v. 240 to 244] is analogous to that, before given -[v. 129] concerning tragedy. It directs to form -the satyrs out of a known subject. The reasons are, -in general, the same for both. Only one seems peculiar -to the satyrs. For the cast of them being -necessarily romantic, and the persons, those fantastic -beings, called satyrs, the τὸ ὅμοιον, or probable, -will require the subject to have gained a popular -belief, without which the representation must appear -unnatural. Now these subjects, which have -gained a popular belief, in consequence of old tradition, -and their frequent celebration in the poets, -are what Horace calls <i>nota</i>; just as newly invented -subjects, or, which comes to the same thing, such -as had not been employed by other writers, <i>indicta</i>, -he, on a like occasion, terms <i>ignota</i>. The connexion -lies thus. Having mentioned <i>Silenus</i> in v. -239, one of the commonest characters in this drama, -an objection immediately offers itself; “but what -good poet will engage in subjects and characters -so trite and hackney’d?” The answer is, <i>ex noto -fictum carmen sequar</i>, i. e. however trite and well -known this and some other characters, essential to -the satyr, are, and must be; yet will there be still -room for fiction and genius to shew itself. The -conduct and disposition of the play may be wholly -new, and above the ability of common writers, <i>tantum -series juncturaque pollet</i>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">213</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>244. <span class="smcap">Sylvis deducti caveant</span> &c.] Having -before [v. 232] settled the true idea of the satyric -style in general, he now treats of the peculiar language -of the satyrs themselves. This common -sense demands to be in conformity with their sylvan -character, neither affectedly tender and gallant, on -the one hand; nor grossly and offensively obscene, -on the other. The <i>first</i> of these cautions seems leveled -at a false improvement, which, on the introduction -of the Roman satyr, was probably attempted -on the simple, rude plan of the Greek, -without considering the rustic extraction and manners -of the fauns and satyrs. The <i>latter</i>, obliquely -glances at the impurities of the Atellane, whose -licentious ribaldry, as hath been observed, would, of -course, infect the first essays of the Roman satyr.</p> - -<p>But these rules so necessary to be followed in the -<i>satyric</i>, are (to observe it by the way) still more essential -to the <small>PASTORAL</small> poem: the fortunes and -character of which (though numberless volumes -have been written upon it) may be given in few -words.</p> - -<p>The prodigious number of writings, called Pastoral, -which have been current in all times, and in all -languages, shews there is something very taking in -this poem. And no wonder, since it addresses itself -to <small>THREE</small> leading principles in human nature, -<small>THE LOVE OF EASE</small>, <small>THE LOVE OF BEAUTY</small>, and <small>THE -MORAL SENSE</small>: such pieces as these being employed -in representing to us the <small>TRANQUILLITY</small>, the <small>INNOCENCE</small>, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">214</span> -and the <small>SCENERY</small>, of the rural life. But -though these ideas are of themselves agreeable, -good sense will not be satisfied unless they appear to -have some foundation in truth and nature. And -even, then, their impression will be but faint, if -they are not, further, employed to <i>convey instruction</i>, -or <i>interest the heart</i>.</p> - -<p>Hence the different <i>forms</i>, under which this -poem hath appeared. <span class="smcap">Theocritus</span> thought it sufficient -to give a <i>reality</i> to his pictures of the rural -manners. But in so doing it was too apparent that -his draught would often be coarse and unpleasing. -And, in fact, we find that his shepherds, contrary -to the poet’s rule,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">——<i>immunda crepent ignominiosaque dicta</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Virgil</span> avoided this extreme. Without departing -very widely from the simplicity of rustic nature, -his shepherds are more decent, their lives more serene, -and, in general, the scene more inviting. -But the refinements of his age not well agreeing to -these simple delineations, and his views in writing -not being merely to <i>entertain</i>, he saw fit to allegorize -these agreeable fancies, and make them the vehicles -of <i>historical</i>, and sometimes even of <i>philosophic</i>, -information.</p> - -<p>Our <span class="smcap">Spenser</span> wanted to engross all the beauties -of his masters: and so, to the artless and too natural -drawing of the <i>Greek</i>, added the deep allegoric -design of the <i>Latin</i>, poet. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">215</span></p> - -<p>One easily sees that this ænigmatic cast of the -pastoral was meant to give it an air of instruction, -and to make it a reasonable entertainment to such -as would nauseate a sort of writing,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Where pure description held the place of sense.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But this refinement was out of place, as not only -inconsistent with the simplicity of the pastoral character, -but as tending to rob us in a good degree of -the <i>pleasure</i>, which these amusing and picturesque -poems are intended to give.</p> - -<p>Others therefore took another route. The famous -<span class="smcap">Tasso</span>, by an effort of genius which hath done -him more honour than even his epic talents, produced -a new kind of pastoral, by engrafting it on -the drama. And under this form, pastoral poetry -became all the vogue. The charming <span class="smcap">Amintas</span> was -even commented by the greatest scholars and critics. -It was read, admired, and imitated by all the world.</p> - -<p>There is no need to depreciate the fine copies -that were taken of it, in Italy. But those by our -own poets were, by far, the best. <span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span> -had, indeed, set the example of something like pastoral -dramas, in our language; and in his <i>Winter’s -Tale</i>, <i>As ye like it</i>, and some other of his pieces, -has enchanted every body with his natural sylvan -manners, and sylvan scenes. But <span class="smcap">Fletcher</span> set -himself, in earnest, to emulate the Italian, yet still -with an eye of reverence towards the English, poet. -In his <i>faithful shepherdess</i> he surpasses the <i>former</i>, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">216</span> -in the variety of his paintings and the beauty of his -scene; and only falls short of the <i>latter</i>, in the -truth of manners, and a certain original grace of invention -which no imitation can reach. The fashion -was now so far established, that every poet of the -time would try his hand at a pastoral. Even surly -<span class="smcap">Ben</span>, though he found no precedent for it among -his ancients, was caught with the beauty of this -novel drama, and, it must be owned, has written -above himself in the fragment of his <i>sad shepherd</i>.—The -scene, at length, was closed with the <i>Comus</i> -of <span class="smcap">Milton</span>, who, in his rural paintings, almost -equalled the simplicity and nature of Shakespeare -and Fletcher, and, in the purity and splendor of -his expression, outdid <span class="smcap">Tasso</span>.</p> - -<p>In this new form of the pastoral, what was childish -before, is readily admitted and excused. A simple -<i>moral</i> tale being the groundwork of the piece, -the charms of description and all the embellishments -of the scene are only subservient to the higher purpose -of picturing the manners, or touching the -heart.</p> - -<p>But the good sense of Shakespeare, or perhaps the -felicity of his genius, was admirable. Instead of -the deep tragic air of Tasso (which has been generally -followed) and his continuance of the pastoral -strain, even to satiety, through <i>five</i> acts, he only -made use of these playful images to enrich his comic -scenes. He saw, I suppose, that pastoral subjects -were unfit to bear a tragic distress. And besides, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">217</span> -when the distress rises to any height, the wantonness -of pastoral imagery grows distasteful. Where -as the genius of comedy admits of humbler distresses; -and leaves us at leisure to recreate ourselves -with these images, as no way interfering with the -draught of characters, or the management of a -comic tale. But to make up in <i>surprize</i> what was -wanting in <i>passion</i>, Shakespeare hath, with great -judgment, adopted the popular system of Faeries; -which, while it so naturally supplies the place of -the old sylvan theology, gives a wildness to this sort -of pastoral painting which is perfectly inimitable.</p> - -<p>In a word; if Tasso had the honour of inventing -the <i>pastoral drama</i>, properly so called, Shakespeare -has shewn us the just application of <i>pastoral poetry</i>; -which, however amusing to the imagination, good -sense will hardly endure, except in a short dialogue, -or in some occasional dramatic scenes; and in <i>these</i> -only, as it serves to the display of characters and the -conduct of the poet’s plot.</p> - -<p>And to confirm these observations on pastoral -poetry, which may be thought too severe, one may -observe that such, in effect, was the judgment -passed upon it by that great critic, as well as wit, -<span class="smcap">Cervantes</span>. He concludes his famous adventures, -with a kind of project for his knight and squire <i>to -turn shepherds</i>: an evident ridicule on the turn of -that time for pastoral poems and romances, that -were beginning to succeed to their books of heroic -knight-errantry. Not, but it contains, also, a fine -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">218</span> -stroke of <i>moral criticism</i>, as implying, what is seen -from experience to be too true, that men capable of -running into one enthusiasm are seldom cured of it -but by some sudden diversion of the imagination, -which drives them into another.</p> - -<p>In conclusion, the reader will scarcely ask me, -why, in this deduction of the history and genius of -pastoral poetry, I have taken no notice of what has -been written of this kind, in France; which, if it -be not the most <i>unpoetical</i> nation in Europe, is at -least the most <i>unpastoral</i>. Nor is their <i>criticism</i> of -this poem much better than their execution. A late -writer<a id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">24</a> indeed pronounces M. de Fontenelle’s discourse -on pastoral poetry <i>to be one of the finest -pieces of criticism in the world</i>. For my part, I can -only say it is rather more tolerable than his pastorals.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>248. <span class="smcap">Offendentur enim quibus est equus et -pater et res.</span>] The poet, in his endeavour to reclaim -his countrymen from the <i>taste obscene</i>, very -politely, by a common figure, represents that as -being the <i>fact</i>, which he wished to be so. For -what reception the rankest obscenities met with on -the Roman stage we learn from Ovid’s account of the -success of the <span class="smcap">Mimi</span>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Nobilis hos virgo matronaque, virque puerque,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Spectat: et è magnâ parte</i> senatus <i>adest</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="author">Trist. ii. v. 501.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">219</span></p> - -<p>This, indeed, was not till some time after the -date of this epistle. But we may guess from hence -what must have been the tendency of the general -disposition, and may see to how little effect the poet -had laboured to divert the public attention from the -<i>Mimes</i> to his reformed <i>Atellanes</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>251. <span class="smcap">Syllaba longa brevi</span>, &c.] This whole -critique on the satyrs concludes with some directions -about the Iambic verse. When the commentary -asserts, that this metre was common to tragedy and -the satyrs, this is not to be taken strictly; the satyrs, -in this respect, as in every other, sustaining a -sort of intermediate character betwixt tragedy and -comedy. For, accurately speaking, their proper -measure, as the Grammarians teach, was the Iambic -enlivened with the tribrachys. “<i>Gaudent</i> [Victor. -l. ii. c. met. Iamb.] <i>trisyllabo pede et maxime -tribrache</i>.” Yet there was likeness enough to -consider this whole affair of the metre under the -same head. The Roman dramatic writers were very -careless in their versification, which arose, as is -hinted, v. 259, from an immoderate and undistinguishing -veneration of their old poets.</p> - -<p>In conclusion of all that has been delivered on -the subject of these <i>satyrs</i>, it may be amusing to -the learned reader to hear a celebrated French critic -express himself in the following manner: “<i>Les -Romains donnoient</i> encore le nom de Satyre à -une espece de <i>Piece Pastorale</i>; qui tenoit, <i>dit on</i> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">220</span> -le milieu entre la Tragedie et la Comedie. <i>C’est -tout ce que nous en sçavons.</i>” [<i>Mem. de l’Hist. -des Belles Lett.</i> tom. xvii. p. 211.]</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>264. <span class="smcap">Et data Romanis venia est indigna poetis.</span>] -It appears certainly, that what is said here -concerning the metre of dramatic poems, was peculiarly -calculated for the correction of the Roman -negligence, and inaccuracy in this respect. This, -if it had not been so expresly told us, would have -been seen from the few remaining fragments of the -old Latin plays, in which a remarkable carelessness -of numbers is observed. This gives a presumption, -that, with the like advantage of consulting them, it -would also appear, that the rest of the poet’s rules -were directed to the same end, and that even such, -as are delivered in the most absolute and general -form, had a peculiar reference, agreeably to what -is here taught of the plan of this poem, to the corresponding -defects in the state of the Roman stage.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>270. <span class="smcap">At vestri proavi Plautinos et numeros -et Laudavere sales; nimium patienter utrumque, -Ne dicam stulte, mirati</span>;] It hath been -thought strange, that Horace should pass so severe -a censure on the <i>wit</i> of Plautus, which yet appeared -to Cicero so admirable, that he speaks of it as <i>elegans, -urbanum, ingeniosum, facetum</i>. [De Off. i. 29.] -Nor can it be said, that this difference of judgment -was owing to the improved delicacy of taste for wit, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">221</span> -in the Augustan age, since it doth not appear, that -Horace’s own jokes, when he attempts to divert us -in this way, are at all better than Cicero’s.</p> - -<p>The common answer, so far as it respects the poet, -is, I believe, the true one: “that endeavouring to -beat down the excessive veneration of the elder -Roman poets, and, among the rest (as appears -from 2 Ep. i. and A. P. 54.) of Plautus, he censures, -without reserve, every the least defect in -his writings; though, in general, he agreed with -Cicero in admiring him.” But then this was all. -For that he was not so over-nice as to dislike Plautus’ -wit in the main, and, but in this view, probably -had not criticized him at all, I collect from his express -approbation of the wit of the old <i>comedy</i>; -which certainly was not more delicate, than that of -<i>Plautus</i>.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i25"><i>ridiculum acri</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Fortius et melius magnas plerumque secat res.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Illi, scripta quibus comœdia prisca viris est,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Hoc stabant</i>, <small>HOC SUNT IMITANDI</small>.<br /></span> -<span class="author"><small>I</small> S. x. 15.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>I know, it hath been thought, that, even in this -very place, where he censures the wit of Plautus, -he directs us <i>ad Græca exemplaria</i>, i. e. as his critics -understand him, to Aristophanes, and the other -writers of the old Comedy; but such a direction in -this place, were altogether improper, and the supposition -is, besides, a palpable mistake. For the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">222</span> -<i>Græca exemplaria</i> are referred to <i>only</i>, as models -in exact versification, as the tenor of the place -fully shews. And what Horace afterwards remarks -on the wit of Plautus, in addition to the observations -on metre, is a new and distinct criticism, and hath -no kind of reference to the preceding direction. -But still, as I said, Horace appears no such enemy -to the old comic wit, as, without the particular -reason assigned, to have so severely condemned it. -The difficulty is to account for Cicero’s so peculiar -admiration of it, and that a taste, otherwise so exact, -as his, should delight in the coarse humour of Plautus, -and the old comedy. The case, I believe, was -this:</p> - -<p>Cicero had imbibed a strong relish of the frank -and libertine wit of the old comedy, as best suited -to the genius of popular eloquence; which, though -it demands to be tempered with some urbanity, yet -never attains its end so effectually, as when let down -and accommodated, in some certain degree, to the -general taste and manners of the people. This Cicero -in effect owns, when he tells us, the main end -of jesting at the bar [De Orat. ccxl.] is, not to acquire -the credit of consummate humour, but to -carry the cause, <i>ut proficiamus aliquid</i>: that is, <i>to -make an impression on the people</i>; which is generally, -we know, better done by a coarser joke, than -by the elegance of refined raillery. And that this -was the real ground of Cicero’s preference of the old -comedy to the new, may be concluded, not only -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">223</span> -from the nature of the thing, and his own example -(for he was ever reckoned intemperate in his jests, -which by no means answer to the elegance of his -character) but is certainly collected from what Quintilian, -in his account of it, expresly observes of the -old comedy, <i>Nescio an ulla poesis (post Homerum) -aut similior sit oratoribus, aut ad oratores faciendos -aptior</i>. The reason, doubtless, was, that -<i>strength</i>, and <i>prompt and eloquent freedom</i>, <i>Vires -et facundissima libertas</i>, which he had before observed, -so peculiarly belonged to it.</p> - -<p>And this, I think, will go some way towards -clearing an embarrassing circumstance in the history -of the Roman learning, which I know not, if any -writer hath yet taken notice of. It is, that though -Menander and the authors of the new comedy were -afterwards admired, as the only masters of the -comic drama, yet this does not appear to have been -seen, or, at least, so fully acknowledged, by the -Roman writers, till after the Augustan age; notwithstanding -that the Roman taste was, from that -time, visibly declining. The reason, I doubt not, -was, that the popular eloquence, which continued, -in a good degree of vigour, to that time, participating -more of the freedom of the <i>old</i> comic banter, -and rejecting, as improper to its end, the refinements -of the <i>new</i>, insensibly depraved the public -taste; which, by degrees only, and not till a studied -and cautious declamation had, by the necessary influence -of absolute power, succeeded to the liberty -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">224</span> -of their old oratory, was fully reconciled to the delicacy -and strict decorum of Menander’s wit. Even -the case of Terence, which, at first sight, might -seem to bear hard against it, confirms this account. -This poet, struck with the supreme elegance of -Menander’s manner, and attempting too soon, before -the public taste was sufficiently formed for it, -to bring it on the stage, had occasion for all the -credit, his noble patrons could give him, to support -himself against the popular clamour. What was -the object of that <i>clamour</i>, we learn from a curious -passage in one of his prologues, where his adversary -is made to object,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i14"><i>Quas—fecit—fabulas</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Tenui esse oratione et scriptura levi</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="author">Prol. ad Phorm.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The sense of which is not, as his commentators -have idly thought, <i>that his style was low and -trifling</i>, for this could never be pretended, but <i>that -his dialogue was insipid, and his characters, and, -in general, his whole composition, without that -comic heightening, which their vitiated tastes required</i>. -This further appears from those common -verses of Cæsar, where, characterizing the genius of -Terence’s plays, as devoid of this comic spirit, he -calls them <i>lenia scripta</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Lenibus</span> <i>atque utinam</i> <small>SCRIPTIS</small> <i>adjuncta foret vis</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Comica</span>:<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>words, which are the clearest comment on the lines -in question. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">225</span></p> - -<p>But this famous judgment of Cæsar deserves to -be scrutinized more narrowly. For it may be said -“that by <i>vis comica</i> I suppose him to mean the -comic drollery of the <i>old</i> and <i>middle</i> comedy; -whereas it is more probable he meant the elegant -but high humour of the best writers of the <i>new</i>, -particularly of Menander; why else doth he call -Terence, “<i>Dimidiate Menander</i>?” There is the -more force in this objection, because <i>the elegant but -high humour</i>, here mentioned, is of the truest merit -in comedy; and because Menander, of whom the -ancients speak so honourably, and whom we only -know by their encomiums, may be reasonably -thought to have excelled in it. What occurs in answer -to it, is this.</p> - -<p>1. The Ancients are generally allowed to have -had very little of what we now understand by <i>comic -humour</i>. Lucian is the <i>first</i>, indeed the only one, -who hath properly left us any considerable specimens -of it. And he is almost modern with regard to the -writers under consideration. But,</p> - -<p>2. That <i>Menander and the writers of the new -comedy did not excel in it</i>, is probable for these -reasons.</p> - -<p>1. The most judicious critic of antiquity, when -he is purposely considering the excellencies of -the Greek comedians, and, what is more, exposing -the comparative deficiencies of the Roman, -says not a word of it. He thinks, indeed, that -<i>Terence’s</i>, which yet he pronounces to be most -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">226</span> -elegant, is but the faintest shadow of the Greek, -comedy. But then his reason is, <i>quod sermo ipse -Romanus non recipere videatur illam solis concessam -Atticis venerem</i>. [L. x. 1.] It seems then as -if the main defect, which this critic observed in Terence’s -comedy, was a want of that inexplicable -grace of language, which so peculiarly belonged to -the Greeks; a grace of so subtle a nature that even -they could only catch it in one dialect—<i>quando -eam ne Græci quidem in alio genere linguæ non -obtinuerint</i>. [Ib.]”</p> - -<p>2. Some of Terence’s plays may be almost said -to be direct translations from Menander. And the -comic humour, supposed in the objection, being of -the truest taste, no reason can be imagined why the -poet should so industriously avoid to transfuse this -last and highest grace into his comedy. Especially -since the popular cry against him proceeded from -hence, that he was wanting in comic pleasantry; a -<i>want</i>, which by a stricter attention to this virtue of -his great original, supposing Menander to have been -possessed of it, he might so easily have supplied. -And lest it should be thought he omitted to do this, -as not conceiving any thing of this <i>virtue</i>, or as not -approving it, we find in him, but rarely indeed, -some delicate touches, which approach as nearly as -any thing in antiquity to this genuine comic humour. -Of which kind is that in the <i>Hecyra</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Tum tu igitur nihil adtulisti huc plus unâ sententiâ?</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">227</span></p> - -<p>For these reasons I should suppose that <i>Menander</i> -and the writers of the new comedy, from whom -Terence copied, had little of this beauty.</p> - -<p>But what shall we say then to Cæsar’s <i>dimidiate -Menander</i>? It refers, I believe, solely to what -Quintilian, as we have seen, observed, that, with -all his emulation of Attic elegance, he was unable, -through the native stubbornness of the Latin tongue, -to come up to the Greek comedy. The very text -of Cæsar leads to this meaning.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Tu quoque, tu in summis, ô dimidiate Menander,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Poneris, et merito</i>, <small>PURI SERMONIS AMATOR</small>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>His excellence consisted in the <i>purity and urbanity -of his expression</i>, in which praise if he still fell -short of his master, the fault was not in him, but -the intractability of his language. And in this view -Cæsar’s address carries with it the highest <i>compliment</i>. -Quintilian had said in relation to this point, -<i>Vix levem consequimur umbram</i>. But Cæsar, in a -fond admiration of his merit, cries out,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Tu quoque</i>, <small>TU</small> <i>in summis</i>, <span class="smcap">ô dimidiate Menander</span>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>His <i>censure</i> of him is delivered in the following -lines:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Lenibus atque utinam scriptis adjuncta foret vis</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Comica, ut æquato virtus polleret honore</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Cum Græcis, neque in hâc despectus parte jaceres;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Unum hoc maceror et doleo tibi deesse, Terenti.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">228</span></p> - -<p>Which, again, gives no countenance to the supposition -of Menander’s excelling in <i>comic humour</i>. -For he does not say, that with the addition of this -talent he had equalled <i>Menander</i>, but in general, -the <span class="smcap">Greeks</span>—<i>æquato virtus polleret honore cum</i> -<span class="smcap">Græcis</span>. And this was what occasioned Cæsar’s -regret. He wished to see him unite all the merits of -the Greek comedy. As far as the Latin tongue would -permit, he had shewn himself a master of the elegance -of the <i>new</i>. What he further required in him was the -strong wit and satyr of the <i>old</i>. His favourite had -then rivalled, in every praise, the Greek writers.</p> - -<p>And, if this be admitted, nothing hinders but -that by <i>vis comica</i> Cæsar may be understood to -mean (how consistently with the admired urbanity -of Terence is not the question) the comic pleasantry -of the middle or old comedy.</p> - -<p>The thing indeed could hardly be otherwise. -For Plautus, who chiefly copied, from the <i>middle</i> -comedy, had, by the drollery of his wit, and the -buffoon pleasantry of his scenes, so enchanted the -people as to continue the reigning favourite of the -stage, even long after Afranius and Terence had appeared -on it. Nay the humour continued through -the Augustan age<a id="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">25</a>, when, as we learn from Horace, -in many parts of his writings, the public applause -still followed Plautus; in whom though himself -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">229</span> -could see many faults, yet he does not appear to -have gone so far, as, upon the whole, to give the -preference to Terence. Afterwards indeed the case -altered. Paterculus admires; and Plutarch and -Quintilian are perfectly charmed: <i>ita omnem vitæ -imaginem expressit, ita est omnibus rebus, personis, -affectibus accommodatus</i>. This character, one would -think, should have fitted him also for a complete -model to the orator. And this, as might be expected, -was Quintilian’s opinion. For, though he -saw, as appears from the passage already quoted, -that the writers of the old comedy were, in fact, <i>the -likest to orators, and the most proper to form them -to the practice of the Forum</i>, yet, in admiration of -the absolute perfection of Menander’s manner, and -criticising him by the rules of a just and accurate -rhetoric, and not at all in the views of a practical -orator, he pronounces him to be a complete pattern -of oratorial excellence: <i>vel unus, diligenter lectus, -ad cuncta efficienda sufficiat</i>, l. x. c. 1. Yet Cicero, -it seems, thought otherwise; for he scarcely, -as I remember, mentions the name of Menander in -his rhetorical books, though he is very large in -commending the authors of the old Greek comedy. -The reason was unquestionably that we have been -explaining: The delicate observance of decorum, -for which this poet was so famous, <i>in omnibus mire -custoditur ab hoc poeta decorum</i>, rendered him an -unfit model for a popular speaker, especially in -Rome, where an orator was much more likely to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">230</span> -carry his point by the <i>vis comica</i>, the <i>broader mirth</i> -of Aristophanes, or Plautus, than by the delicate -railleries, and exquisite paintings of Menander, or -Terence.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>273. <span class="smcap">Si modo ego et vos Scimus inurbanum -lepido seponere dicto.</span>] It was very late ere the -ancients became acquainted with this distinction. -Indeed it does not appear, they ever possessed it in -that supreme degree, which might have been expected -from their exquisite discernment in other -instances. Even Horace himself, though his pictures -of life are commonly the most delicate, and -wrought up in the highest beauty of humour, yet, -when he affects the <i>plaisant</i>, and purposely aims at -the comic style and manner, is observed to sink -beneath himself extremely. The truth is, there is -something low, and what the French call <i>grossier</i>, -in the whole cast of ancient wit; which is rather a -kind of rude, illiberal satire, than a just and temperate -ridicule, restrained by the exact rules of -civility and good sense. This a celebrated writer, -who seems willing to think the most favourably of -the ancient wits, in effect owns, when, after quoting -certain instances of their raillery, he says, <i>Ces exemples, -quoique vifs et bons en leur genre, ont -quëlque chose de trop dur, qui ne s’accommoderoit -pas à nôtre maniere de vivre; et ce seroit ce que -nous appellons rompre en visiers, que de dire en face -des veritez aussi forts que celles-là</i>. [Rec. de bons -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">231</span> -Contes et de bons Mots, p. 89.] This rudeness, -complained of, appears in nothing more evident, than -in their perpetual banter on corporal infirmities, -which runs through all the wits both of Greece and -Rome. And to shew us, that this was not a practice, -they allowed themselves in against rule, Cicero mentions -corporal infirmities [De Or. l. ii. c. 59.] as one -of the most legitimate sources of the <small>RIDICULOUS</small>. -<i>Est deformitatis et corporis vitiorum satis bella -materies.</i> And in another place, <i>Valde ridentur -etiam imagines, quæ fere in deformitatem, aut in -aliquod vitium corporis ducuntur cum similitudine -turpioris</i>, &c. [ib. c. 66.] And this, which is very -remarkable, though they saw the absurdity of it, as -appears from the answer of Lamia, recorded by -Cicero, to a joke of this kind, <i>Non potui mihi formam -ipse fingere</i>, [ib. c. 65.] The universal prevalence -of a practice so absurd in itself, and seen by -themselves to be so, in the two politest states of the -old world, must needs have sprung from some very -<i>general</i>, and <i>powerful</i> cause; which, because it hath -not, that I know of, been considered by any writer, -I shall here attempt to open and explane. The -subject is curious, and would require a volume to do -it justice. I can only hint at the principal reasons, -which appear to me to have been these.</p> - -<p>I. <i>The free and popular government of those -states.</i> This, preserving an equality of condition, and -thereby spreading a fearlessness and independency -through all ranks and orders of men, of course produced -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">232</span> -and indulged the utmost freedom of expression, -uninfluenced by hopes of favour, and unawed by fear -of personal offence; the two sources, from whence -the civility of a more cautious ridicule is derived. -Now of all the species of raillery, the most natural -and <i>obvious</i> to a people unrestrained by these causes, -is ever the <i>coarsest</i>, such as that on corporal deformities; -as appears from its prevailing every where, -in all forms of government, among the lowest of the -people, betwixt whom those causes never subsist. -But this reason involves in it some particulars, which -deserve to be considered. 1. The <i>orators</i>, who -catched it from the constitution themselves, contributed -in their turn to forward and help on this disposition -to uncivilized mirth. For, the form of their -government requiring immediate, and almost continual, -applications to the people; and the nature of -such applications giving frequent exercise to their -wit, it was natural for them to suit it to the capacities -of their auditory; if indeed they had seen better -themselves. Thus we find the orators in the Forum, -even in the later times of the Roman republic, exposing -their adversary to the broad mirth of the populace, -by enlarging on his <i>low stature</i>, <i>ugly face</i>, -or <i>distorted chin</i>. Instances of which may be met -with in Cicero’s treatise De oratore; and even, as -hath been observed, in some orations and other pieces -of Cicero himself. 2. From the <i>Forum</i> the humour -insensibly spread amongst all orders, and particularly, -amongst the writers for the stage, where it was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">233</span> -kept up in its full vigour, or rather heightened to a -further extravagance, the laughter of the people -being its more immediate and direct aim. But, the -stage not only conformed, as of course it would, to -the spirit of the times (which, for the reason already -given, were none of the most observant of decorum) -but, as we shall also find, it had perhaps the greatest -influence in <i>producing and forming that spirit -itself</i>. This will appear, if we recollect, in few -words, <i>the rise, progress, and character of the ancient -stage</i>.</p> - -<p>The Greek drama, we know, had its origin from -the loose, licentious raillery of the rout of Bacchus, -indulging to themselves the freest sallies of taunt and -invective, as would best suit to lawless natures, -inspirited by festal mirth, and made extravagant by -wine. Hence arose, and with a character answering -to this original, the <i>satyric drama</i>; the spirit of -which was afterwards, in good measure, revived and -continued in the old comedy, and itself preserved, -though with considerable alteration in the form, -through all the several periods of the Greek stage; -even when tragedy, which arose out of it, was brought -to its last perfection. Much the same may be observed -of the <i>Roman</i> drama, which, we are told, -had its rise in the unrestrained festivity of the rustic -youth. This gave occasion to their <i>Satyræ</i>, that is, -medleys of an irregular form, acted for the diversion -of the people. And, when afterwards Livius Andronicus -had, by a further reform, reduced these <i>Satyræ</i> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">234</span> -into regular tragedies, another species of buffoon -ridicule was cultivated, under the name of <i>Atellanæ -fabulæ</i>; which, according to Diomedes’ character -of them, <i>were replete with jocular witticisms, and -very much resembled the Greek satyrs</i>. <i>Dictis jocularibus -refertæ, similes fere sunt satyricis fabulis -Græcorum.</i> These were ever after retained, and -annexed to their most regular dramatic entertainments -in Rome, just as the <i>satyrs</i> were in Greece; -and this (as was seen in its place) though much pains -was taken to reform, if not wholly remove, them. -But to shew how strong the passion of the Romans -was for this rude illiberal banter, even the licentious -character of the <i>Atellanes</i> did not fully satisfy them; -but, as if they were determined to stick to their -genuine rusticity, they continued the <i>Satyræ</i> themselves, -under the name of <i>Exodia</i>, that is farces of -the grossest and most absurd composition; which, -to heighten the mirth of the day, were commonly -interwoven with the Atellane pieces. The reason of -the continuance of such ribaldry in the politest ages -of Greece and Rome hath been inquired into. At -present it appears, what effect it must necessarily -have upon the public taste.</p> - -<p>II. Another cause connected with the foregoing, -and rising out of it, seems to have been the festal -licence of particular seasons, such as the <i>Dionysia</i> -and <i>Panathenæa</i>, amongst the Greeks; and the -<i>Bacchanalia</i> and <i>Saturnalia</i>, at Rome. These -latter, it is observable, were continued to the latest -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">235</span> -period of the Roman empire, preserving in them an -image, as well of the frank and libertine wit of their -old stage, as of the original equality and independency -of their old times. Quintilian thinks, that, -with some regulation, good use might have been -made of these seasons of licence, for the cultivating -a just spirit of raillery in the orators of his time. -As it was, there is no doubt, they helped much to -vitiate and deprave it. His words are these: <i>Quin -illæ ipsæ, quæ</i> <small>DICTA</small> <i>sunt ac vocantur, quas certis -diebus festæ licentiæ dicere solebamus, si paulum -adhibita ratione fingerentur, aut aliquid in his serium -quoque esset admixtum, plurimum poterunt -utilitatis afferre: quæ nunc juvenum, aut sibi ludentium -exercitatio est.</i> [Quint. l. iv. c. 3.] Besides, -in Greece, the jester was a character by profession, -necessary to the pleasantry of private feasts, and, as -we learn from the fine satyr in Xenophon’s <i>Symposium</i>, -even in that polite age, welcome to all companies<a id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">26</a>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">236</span></p> - -<p>From these reasons I think it not difficult to -account for the coarseness of ancient wit. The free -genius of the Greek and Roman constitution was -unquestionably its main spring and support. But, -when this character of their government was seconded -by the freedom of their demagogues, the petulance -of the stage, and the uncontrouled licence of recurring -festival solemnities, it was no wonder, the -illiberal manner so thoroughly infected all ranks and -degrees of the people, as by no after diligence and -refinement wholly to be removed. And this theory -is indeed confirmed by <i>fact</i>. For, when now the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">237</span> -tyranny of one man had ingrossed the power, and -oppressed the liberties, of Greece, their stage refined, -their wit polished, and Menander wrote. And -though a thorough reform was never made in the -Roman stage, partly, as Quintilian thinks, from the -intractability of their language, but chiefly, it may -be, as to the point in question, from the long continuance -of their rude farcical shews, yet something -like this appears to have followed upon the loss of their -freedom; as is plain from the improved delicacy of -their later critics; who, as Quintilian and Plutarch, -are very profuse in their encomiums on Menander, -and the <i>new</i> comedy; whereas we find little said of -it by the Augustan writers, who seem generally to -have preferred the coarser wit and pleasantry of the -<i>old</i>. The state of modern wit too confirms this -account. For it has grown up, for the most part, -under limited monarchies, in which their scenical -entertainments were more moderate, or for plain reasons -must less affect the public taste. Whenever -therefore a turn for letters has prevailed, a poignant, -but liberal kind of wit hath generally sprung up with -it. Where it is worth observing, the growing -tyranny in some states hath either extinguished it -intirely, or refined it into an effeminate and timid -delicacy, as the growing licentiousness in others -hath sunk it into a rude and brutal coarseness; whilst -by a due mixture of liberty and letters, we have seen -it acquire a proper temperament at home, and, as -managed by our best writers, exhibit a specimen -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">238</span> -of that strong, yet elegant ridicule, which hath -never yet been equalled by any other nation in the -world.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>275. <span class="smcap">Ignotum tragicae genus invenisse camenae</span>, &c.] -The poet, having just remarked the -negligence of the Roman writers, in two or three -instances, and, at the same time recommended to -them the superior care and accuracy of the Greeks -(all which is elegantly preparatory to the last division -of the epistle) proceeds in a short view of the -Greek drama, to insinuate, as well the successful -pains of the Greek writers, as the real state of the -Roman stage; the complete glory of which could -only be expected, as immediately follows, from a -spirit of diligence and correctness. As this whole -connexion is clear and easy, so is the peculiar method, -in which it is conducted, extremely proper. -1. To shew, how great the advantage of their situation -was over that of the Greeks, he observes, that -the latter had the whole constitution of the drama to -invent and regulate; which yet, by the application and -growing experience of their poets, was soon effected; -their tragedy, all rude and shapeless, as it was, in the -cart of Thespis, appearing in its just form and proportion -on the stage of Æschylus; and their comedy -also (which, from that time, began to be cultivated) -asserting its proper character, and, but for the culpable -omission of a chorus, reaching the full extent and -perfection of its kind. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">239</span></p> - -<p>2. To shew, what still remained to them, he brings -down the history of tragedy no lower than Æschylus; -under whom it received its due form and all the essentials -of its nature, yet still wanted, to its absolute perfection, -the further accuracy and correctness of a Sophocles. -And, for their comedy, he hints the principal -defect of that; its omission, after the manner of -the new comedy, of the chorus. There is great address -in this conduct. The censure also implied in it, -is perfectly just. For, 1. the character of the Roman -tragedy, in the times of Horace, was exactly that -of Æschylus. Æschylus, says Quintilian, was the -first, “<i>qui protulit tragœdias</i>,” i. e. who composed -true legitimate tragedies, <i>sublimis et gravis et grandiloquus -sæpe usque ad vitium; sed rudis in plerisque -et incompositus</i> [L. x. c. i.] the very description, -which Horace gives [2 Ep. i. 165.] of the -Roman tragedy.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i18"><i>natura sublimis et acer,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Nam spirat tragicum satis et feliciter audet;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Sed turpem putat inscitus metuitque lituram.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>2. The state of their comedy, as managed by -their best writers, Afranius and Terence, was, indeed, -much more complete; yet wanted the chorus, -which, in the judgment of the poet, it seems, was -equally necessary to the perfection of this, as of the -other drama.</p> - -<p>3. But the application is made in express terms.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Nil intentatum nostri liquere poetæ</i>, &c.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">240</span> -<i>i. e.</i> our poets, as well as the Greek, have, in some -degree, applied themselves to improve and regulate -the stage. In particular, a late innovation, in taking -their subjects, both of tragedy and comedy, from -domestic facts, is highly to be applauded. Their sole -disadvantage is, <i>a neglect or contempt of that labour -and accuracy, which gave the last perfection to the -Greek scene</i>.</p> - -<p>After this clear and natural exposition of the connexion -of these lines, all the difficulties, that have -been found in them by certain great critics, vanish -of themselves. And the reader now sees (what the -sagacious Heinsius thought impossible to be shewn) -an ἀκολουθίαν, or consistent, natural order in this part -of the epistle; which was in imminent danger of -losing all its grace and beauty, by the wild transpositions -of that critic.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>278. <span class="smcap">Post hunc personae pallaeque</span>, &c.] M. -<i>Dacier</i> hath here puzzled himself with a difficulty -of his own raising. He wonders, that Horace should -omit, in this history, the other improvements of Æschylus, -mentioned by Aristotle, and that Aristotle, -in his turn, should omit those, mentioned by Horace. -The truth is, neither of them intended a complete -account of the improvements of the Greek stage; but -only so much of them, as was necessary to the views -of each. Aristotle, treating of the <i>internal</i> constitution -of the drama, speaks of such changes, made in it -by Æschylus, as respected that end. Horace, treating -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">241</span> -in general of its <i>form</i>, as perfected by the pains -and application of the same poet, selects those improvements -only, which contrast best to the rude essays of -Thespis, and, while they imply the rest, exhibit tragedy, -as it were, in her proper person, on the stage. -The reader feels the effect of this in the poetry.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>288. <span class="smcap">Vel qui praetextas, vel qui docuere -togatas.</span>] There hath been much difficulty here -in settling a very plain point. The question is, -whether <i>prætextas</i> means <i>tragedy</i>, or a species of -<i>comedy</i>? The answer is very clear from Diomedes, -whose account is, in short, this. “<sup>1</sup><i>Togatæ</i> is a -general term for all sorts of Latin plays, adopting -the Roman customs and dresses; as <i>Palliatæ</i> is, -for all, adopting the Græcian. Of the <i>Togatæ</i>, the -several <sup>2</sup>species are, 1. <i>Prætexta</i>, or <i>Prætextata</i>, -in which Roman kings and generals were introduced, -and is so called, because the <i>prætexta</i> was -the distinguishing habit of such persons. 2. <i>Tabernaria</i>, -frequently called <sup>3</sup><i>Togata</i>, though that -word, as we have seen, had properly a larger -sense. 3. <i>Atellana.</i> 4. <i>Planipedis.</i>” He next -marks the difference of these several sorts of <i>Togatæ</i>, -from the similar, corresponding ones of the <i>Palliatæ</i>, -which are these: “1. <sup>4</sup>Tragœdia, absolutely -so styled. 2. <sup>5</sup>Comœdia, 3. <sup>6</sup>Satyri. -4. <sup>7</sup>Μῖμος.” [These four sorts of the <i>palliatæ</i> -were also probably in use at Rome; certainly, at -least, the two former.] It appears then from hence, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">242</span> -that <i>prætextata</i> was properly the Roman tragedy. -But he adds, “<i>Togata prætextata à tragœdia -differt</i>, and it is also said, <i>to be only like tragedy</i>, -<i>tragœdiæ similis</i>.” What is this difference -and this likeness? The explanation follows. “<sup>8</sup>Heroes -are introduced in <i>tragedy</i>, such as Orestes, -Chryses, and the like. In the <i>prætextata</i>, Brutus, -Decius, or Marcellus.” So then we see, when -Græcian characters were introduced, it was called -simply <i>tragœdia</i>; when Roman, <i>prætextata</i>; yet -both, tragedies. The sole difference lay in the persons -being foreign or domestic. The correspondence -in every other respect was exact. The same is observed -of the Roman comedy; when it adopted -<sup>9</sup>Greek characters, it was called <i>comœdia</i>: when -Roman, <sup>20</sup><i>Togata Tabernaria</i>, or <sup>3</sup><i>Togata</i>, simply. -That the reader may assure himself of the -fidelity of this account, let him take it at large, in -the Grammarian’s own words. “<sup>1</sup>Togatæ fabulæ -dicuntur, quæ scriptæ sunt secundum ritus et -habitus hominum togatorum, id est, Romanorum -(Toga namque Romana est), sicut Græcas fabulas -ab habitu æque palliatas Varro ait nominari. -<sup>3</sup>Togatas autem cum sit generale nomen, specialiter -tamen pro tabernariis, non modo communis -error usurpat, sed et poetæ.—Togatarum fabularum -<sup>2</sup>species tot fere sunt, quot et palliatarum. -Nam prima species est togatarum, quæ prætextatæ -dicuntur, in quibus imperatorum negotia -agebantur et publica, et reges Romani vel duces -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">243</span> -inducuntur, personarum et argumentorum sublimitate<sup>4</sup> -tragœdiis similes: Prætextatæ autem -dicuntur, quia fere regum vel magistratuum, -qui prætexta utuntur, in hujusmodi fabulis acta -comprehenduntur. Secunda species togatarum, -quæ tabernariæ dicuntur, humilitate personarum -et argumentorum similitudine <sup>5</sup>comœdiis pares—Tertia -species est fabularum latinarum, quæ—Atellanæ -dictæ sunt, similes <sup>6</sup>satyricis fabulis, -Græcis. Quarta species est planipedis, Græce -dicitur <sup>7</sup>Μῖμος.—Togata prætextata, à <sup>4</sup>tragœdia -differt. In tragœdia <sup>8</sup>heroes introducuntur. Pacuvius -tragœdias nominibus heroicis scripsit Oresten, -Chrysen, et his similia. Item Accius. -In prætextata autem scribitur, Brutus, vel -Decius, vel Marcellus. <sup>19</sup>Togata tabernaria à -<sup>5</sup>comœdia differt, quod in <sup>9</sup>comœdia Græci ritus -inducuntur, personæque Græcæ, Laches, Sostrata. -In illa vero Latinæ.” [L. iii. c. de Com. et Trag. -diff.] With this account of Diomedes agrees perfectly -that of <i>Festus</i>; from which, however, M. -Dacier draws a very different conclusion. “Togatarum -duplex est genus: prætextarum—et tabernariarum.” -His inference is, that prætextatæ, -as being a species of the togatæ, must needs be comedies; -not considering that togata is here a generic -term, comprehending under it all the several -species both of the Roman tragedy and comedy. -After what hath been said, and especially, after the -full and decisive testimony of Diomedes, there can -no longer be any doubt about the meaning of <i>prætextas</i>; -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">244</span> -and one must be surprized to find M. Dacier -prefacing his long note on this place in the following -important manner: <i>C’est un des plus difficiles -passages d’Horace, et peutêtre celui qu’il est -le plus mal aisé d’eclaircir à cause du peu de lumiere -que nous donnent les auteurs Latins sur tout -ce qui regarde leurs pieces de theatre</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>281. <span class="smcap">Successit vetus his Comoedia</span>, &c.] <i>i. e.</i> -Comedy began to be cultivated and improved from -the time that tragedy had obtained its end, ἔσχε -τὴν ἑαυτῆς φύσιν, under Æschylus. There is no -reason to suppose, with some critics, that Horace -meant to date its origin from hence. The supposition -is, in truth, contradicted by <i>experience</i> and -the <i>order of things</i>. For, as a celebrated French -writer observes, “<i>Le talent d’imiter, qui nous est -naturel, nous porte plutôt à la comedie qui roule -sur des choses de nôtre connoissance qu’à la Tragedie, -qui prend des sujets plus èloignés de l’usage -commun; et en effet, en Gréce aussi bien qu’en -France, la Comedie est l’aînée de la tragedie</i>.” -[Hist. du Theat. Franc. par M. de Fontenelle.] -The <i>latter</i> part of this assertion is clear from the -piece referred to; and the <i>other</i>, which respects -Greece, seems countenanced by Aristotle himself -[περ. ποιητ. κ. ε.] ’Tis true, Comedy, though its -rise be every where, at least, as early as that of -tragedy, is perfected much later. Menander, we -know, appeared long after Æschylus. And, though -the French tragedy, to speak with Aristotle, ἔσχε -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">245</span> -τὴν ἑαυτῆς φύσιν in the hands of Corneille, this cannot -be said of their comedy, which was forced to -wait for a Moliere, before it arrived at that pitch of -perfection. But then this is owing to the superior -difficulty of the comic drama. Nor is it any objection -that the contrary of this happened at Rome. -For the Romans, when they applied themselves in -earnest to the stage, had not to invent, but to imitate -or rather <i>translate</i>, the perfect models of -Greece. And it chanced, for reasons which I shall -not stay to deduce, that their poets had better success -in copying their <i>comedy</i>, than <i>tragedy</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>284. <span class="smcap">Turpiter obticuit—</span>] Evidently because, -though the <i>jus nocendi</i> was taken away, yet that -was no good reason, why the chorus should entirely -cease. M. Dacier mistakes the matter. <i>Le chœur -se tût ignominieusement, parceque la loi reprima -sa licence, et que ce fut, à proprement parler, la -loi qui le bannit; ce qu’ Horace regarde comme une -espece de flétrissure. Properly speaking</i>, the law -only abolished the <i>abuse</i> of the chorus. The ignominy -lay in dropping the entire use of it, on account -of this restraint. Horace was of opinion, -that the chorus ought to have been retained, though -the state had abridged it of the licence, it so much -delighted in, of an illimited, and intemperate satyr. -<i>Sublatus chorus fuit</i>, says Scaliger, <i>cujus illæ videntur -esse præcipuæ partes, ut potissimum quos -liberet, læderent</i>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">246</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>286. <span class="smcap">Nec minimum meruere decus vestigia -Græca Ausi deserere et celebrare domestica -facta.</span>] This judgment of the poet, recommending -domestic subjects, as fittest for the stage, may be -inforced from many obvious reasons. As I. that it -renders the drama infinitely more <i>affecting</i>: and -this on many accounts. 1. As a subject, taken from -our own annals, must of course carry with it an air -of greater probability, at least to the generality of -the people, than one borrowed from those of any -other nation. 2. As we all find a personal interest -in the subject. 3. As it of course affords the best -and easiest opportunities of catching our minds, by -frequent references to our manners, prejudices, and -customs. And of how great importance this is, -may be learned from hence, that, even in the exhibition -of foreign characters, dramatic writers have -found themselves obliged to sacrifice truth and probability -to the humour of the people, and to dress -up their personages, contrary to their own better -judgment, in some degree according to the mode -and manners of their respective countries<a id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">27</a>. And -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">247</span> -4. as the writer himself, from an intimate acquaintance -with the character and genius of his own nation, -will be more likely to draw the manners with -life and spirit.</p> - -<p>II. Next, which should ever be one great point -in view, it renders the drama more generally useful -in its moral destination. For, it being conversant -about domestic acts, the great instruction of the -fable more sensibly affects us; and the characters -exhibited, from the part we take in their good or ill -qualities, will more probably influence our conduct.</p> - -<p>III. Lastly, this judgment will deserve the -greater regard, as the conduct recommended was, -in fact, the practice of our great models, the Greek -writers; in whose plays, it is observable, there is -scarcely a single scene, which lies out of the confines -of Greece.</p> - -<p>But, notwithstanding these reasons, the practice -hath, in all times, been but little followed. The -Romans, after some few attempts in this way (from -whence the poet took the occasion of delivering it -as a dramatic precept), soon relapsed into their old -use; as appears from Seneca’s, and the titles of -other plays, written in, or after the Augustan age. -Succeeding times continued the same attachment to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">248</span> -Grecian, with the addition of an equal fondness for -Roman, subjects. The reason in both instances -hath been ever the same: that strong and early -prejudice, approaching somewhat to adoration, in -favour of the illustrious names of those two great -states. The account of this matter is very easy; for -their writings, as they furnish the business of our -younger, and the amusement of our riper, years, -and more especially make the study of all those, -who devote themselves to poetry and the stage, insensibly -infix in us an excessive veneration for all -affairs in which they were concerned; insomuch -that no other subjects or events seem considerable -enough, or rise, in any proportion, to our ideas of the -dignity of the tragic scene, but such as time and long -admiration have consecrated in the annals of their -story. Our Shakespeare was, I think, the first that -broke through this bondage of classical superstition. -And he owed this felicity, as he did some others, -to his want of what is called the advantage of a -learned education. Thus uninfluenced by the -weight of early prepossession, he struck at once into -the road of nature and common sense: and without -designing, without knowing it, hath left us in his -historical plays, with all their anomalies, an exacter -resemblance of the Athenian stage, than is any -where to be found in its most professed admirers and -copyists.</p> - -<p>I will only add, that, for the more successful -execution of this rule of celebrating domestic acts, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">249</span> -much will depend on the æra, from whence the -subject is taken. Times too remote have almost -the same inconveniences, and none of the advantages, -which attend the ages of Greece and Rome. -And, for those of later date, they are too much -familiarized to us, and have not as yet acquired that -venerable cast and air, which tragedy demands, and -age only can give. There is no fixing this point -with precision. In the general, that æra is the fittest -for the poet’s purpose, which, though fresh -enough in our minds to warm and interest us in the -event of the action, is yet at so great a distance -from the present times, as to have lost all those -mean and disparaging circumstances, which unavoidably -adhere to recent deeds, and, in some measure, -sink the noblest modern transactions to the -level of ordinary life.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>295. <span class="smcap">Ingenium misera</span>, &c.] <i>Sæpe audivi poetam -bonum neminem (id quod à Democrito et Platone -in scriptis relictum esse dicunt) sine inflammatione -animorum existere posse et sine quodam -afflatu quasi furoris.</i> [Cic. De orat. l. ii. c. xlvi.] -And so Petronius, <i>præcipitandus liber spiritus, -ut furentis animi vaticinatio appareat</i>. [c. cxviii.] -And to the same purpose every good critic, ancient -or modern. But who can endure the grimace of -those minute <i>genii</i>, who, because the truly inspired, -in the ravings of the fit, are <i>touched</i> with -the flame and fury of enthusiasm, must, therefore, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">250</span> -with a tame, frigid fancy, be laying claim to the -same fervent and fiery raptures? The fate of these -<i>aspirants</i> to divinity is that ἐνθουσιᾷν ἑαυτοῖς δοκοῦντες, -οὐ βακχεύουσιν, ἀλλὰ παίζουσιν [Longin. περ. ὕψ. -τμημ. χ.] And Quintilian opens the mystery of -the whole matter: <i>Quo quisque ingenio minus valet, -hoc se magis attollere et dilatare conatur: ut statura -breves in digitos eriguntur et plura infirmi -minantur. Nam tumidos et corruptos et tinnulos -et quocunque alio cacozeliæ genere peccantes, certum -habeo, non virium, sed infirmitatis vitio laborare: -ut corpora non robore, sed valetudine inflantur: -et recto itinere lapsi plerumque divertunt.</i> -[L. ii. c. 3.]</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>298. <span class="smcap">Bona pars non ungues</span>, &c.] The constant -and pitiful affectation of the race before spoken -of, who, with the modesty of laying claim to -the <i>thing</i>, will be sure not to omit the <i>sign</i>, and -so, from fancying an inspiration, they have <i>not</i> -come to adopt every foppery, that has ever disgraced -it in those who <i>have</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>308. <span class="smcap">Quid deceat, quid non</span>:] <i>Nihil est difficilius -quam</i>, quid deceat, <i>videre.</i> Πρέπον <i>appellant -hoc Græci: nos dicamus sane</i> Decorum. <i>De -quo præclare et multa præcipiuntur, et res est -cognitione dignissima. Hujus ignoratione non -modo in vitâ, sed sæpissime in</i> <span class="smcap">Poematis</span> <i>et in oratione -peccatur.</i> [Orator. xxi.] -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">251</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>309. <span class="smcap">Scribendi recte, sapere est et principium -et fons.</span>] The Orator was of the same mind, -when he sent his pupil to the academy for instruction. -<i>Quis nescit maximam vim existere oratoris -in hominum mentibus vel ad iram, aut dolorem incitandis, -vel ab hisce iisdem permotionibus ad lenitatem -misericordiamque revocandis? quæ, nisi qui -naturas hominum, vimque omnem humanitatis, causasque -eas quibus mentes aut incitantur aut reflectuntur, -penitus perspexerit, dicendo, quod volet, -perficere non poterit. Atqui</i> <small>TOTUS HIC LOCUS PHILOSOPHORUM -PROPRIUS VIDETUR</small>. [De Orat. l. i. -c. xii.] And he spoke, we know, from his own -experience, <i>having acquired his oratorial skill not -in the schools of the rhetoricians, but the walks of -the academy</i>: <i>fateor me oratorem, si modo sim, aut -etiam quicunque sim, non ex rhetorum officinis, sed -ex Academiæ spatiis extitisse</i>. [Orat. p. 622. Elz. -ed.] But the reason he gives for this advice, though -common to the poet; whose character, as well as -the orator’s, it is, <i>posse voluntates impellere, quo -velis, unde velis, deducere</i>, is yet, not the only one, -which respects the poet. For his business is to -<i>paint</i>, and that not only, as the orator does, in -order to move, but for the sole end of <i>pleasing</i>: <i>solam -petit voluptatem</i>. [Quinct. l. x. c. i.] The boast of -his art is to catch every different aspect of nature, -and more especially to exhibit the human character -in every varying light and form, under which it -presents itself. But this is not to be done without -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">252</span> -an exquisite study, and philosophical knowledge of -man; to which end, as is remarked in <i>n.</i> on v. 317. -the Socratic philosophy is more peculiarly adapted. -Add to this, that it is the genius of true poetry, -not only to animate, but to <i>personalize</i> every thing, -<i>omnia debent esse morata</i>. Hence the indispensable -necessity of moral science: all poetry being, in effect, -what Mr. Dryden somewhere calls comedy, -<small>THE THEFT OF POETS FROM MANKIND</small>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>310. <span class="smcap">Socraticae chartae.</span>] An admired writer, -in many respects deservedly so, thus comments -on these words: “The philosophical writings, to -which our poet refers, were in themselves a kind of -poetry, like the <i>mimes</i>, or personated pieces of early -times, before philosophy was in vogue, and when -as yet <i>Dramatical imitation</i> was scarce formed: or -at least, in many parts, not brought to due perfection. -They were pieces, which, besides their force -of style, and hidden numbers, carried a sort of -<i>action</i> and <i>imitation</i>, the same as the <i>Epic</i> and -<i>Dramatic</i> kinds. They were either real dialogues, -or recitals of such personated discourses; where the -persons themselves had their characters preserved -throughout; their manners, humours, and distinct -turns of temper and understanding maintained, according -to the most exact poetical truth. ’Twas not -enough, that these pieces treated fundamentally of -morals, and, in consequence, pointed out real characters -and manners: They exhibited them alive, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">253</span> -and set the countenances and complexions of men -plainly in view. And by this means they not only -taught us to know others; but, what was principal -and of highest virtue in them, they taught us to -know ourselves.” Thus far then these models are -of unquestioned use to writers of every denomination. -I forbear to mention, what this noble author finds -occasion frequently to insinuate, and, by his own practice, -labours to recommend, the superior excellency -of the <i>manner</i>, as well as <i>matter</i>, of these highly-rated -originals. Not that I presume to think it unworthy -of imitation. But the public taste, as appears, -is running full fast that way, insomuch that some -may even doubt, if the state of literary composition -be more endangered by the neglect, or vicious imitation, -of the Platonic manner. Its graces, when -sparingly employed by a real genius, for the embellishment -of strong sense, have, it must be owned, -great beauty. But when this humour of <i>platonizing</i> -seizes on some minuter spirit, bent on ennobling -a trivial matter, and all over-run with academic -delicacy and affectation, nothing, to a just and manly -relish, can be more disgusting. One must wink hard -not to see frequent examples of this, in the master -Platonist himself. But his mimics, of late, have gone -much farther. There is no need, in such a croud of -instances, to point to particulars. What I would -rather observe is, that this folly, offensive as it is, may -perhaps admit of some excuse from the <i>present state -of our literature</i>, and <i>the character of the great -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">254</span> -original himself</i>, whom these writers aspire to imitate. -When a language, as ours at this time, hath -been much polished and enriched with perfect models -of style in almost every way, it is in the order of -things, that the next step should be to a <i>vicious affectation</i>. -For the simplicity of true taste, under these -circumstances, grows insipid. Something <i>better -than the best</i> must be aimed at; and the reader’s languid -appetite raised by the provocatives of an ambitious -refinement. And this in <i>sentiment</i>, as well as -<i>language</i>. Whence we see how it happened, that -even in <i>Greece</i> itself, where composition was studied -with a more than common accuracy, <i>Philosophy</i>, -when it passed out of the hands of its great masters, -degenerated by degrees into the subtilties of sophistry, -as did <i>Eloquence</i>, likewise, into the tricks of -rhetoric.</p> - -<p>But there was something, as I hinted, too, in the -<i>character of the writer imitated</i>, of a very ticklish -and dangerous nature; and of which our tribe of imitators -were not sufficiently aware. A very exact critic -of antiquity hath told us what it was. It lay in Plato’s -<i>bringing the tumor of poetic composition into -discourses of philosophy</i>, ΟΤΙ ΤΟΝ ΟΓΚΟΝ ΤΗΣ -ΠΟΙΗΤΙΚΗΣ ΚΑΤΑΣΚΕΥΗΣ ΕΠΙ ΛΟΓΟΥΣ -ΗΓΑΓΕ ΦΙΛΟΣΟΦΟΥΣ<a id="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">28</a>. And though the experiment, -for the most part, succeeded not amiss (as -what contradiction is there which superior genius -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">255</span> -cannot reconcile?) yet it sometimes failed even in -his hands. And as a French writer well expresses -it, Le <small>DIVIN</small> <i>Plato, pour avoir voulu s’elever trop au -dessus des hommes, est souvent tombè dans un</i> <small>GALIMATIAS</small> -<i>pompeux que quelques uns confondent avec -le</i> <small>SUBLIME</small>. The <span class="smcap">Phaedrus</span>, though the most remarkable, -is not the only example of such mischance -in the writings of this great man.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>317. <span class="smcap">Veras hinc ducere voces.</span>] <i>Truth</i>, in -poetry, means such an expression, as conforms to -the general nature of things; <i>falsehood</i>, that, which, -however suitable to the particular instance in view -doth yet not correspond to such <i>general nature</i>. -To attain to this <i>truth</i> of expression in dramatic -poetry two things are prescribed: 1. A diligent -study of the Socratic philosophy; and 2. A masterly -knowledge and comprehension of human life. The -<i>first</i>, because it is the peculiar distinction of this -school <i>ad veritatem vitæ propius accedere</i>. [Cic. de -Or. i. 51.] And the <i>latter</i>, as rendering the imitation -more universally striking. This will be understood -by reflecting that <i>truth</i> may be followed too -closely in works of imitation, as is evident in two -respects. For, 1. the artist, when he would give a -Copy of nature, may confine himself too scrupulously -to the exhibition of <i>particulars</i>, and so fail -of representing the general idea of the <i>kind</i>. Or, 2. -in applying himself to give the <i>general</i> idea, he may -collect it from an enlarged view of <i>real</i> life, whereas -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">256</span> -it were still better taken from the nobler conception -of it as subsisting only in the <i>mind</i>. This last is the -kind of censure we pass upon the <i>Flemish</i> school of -painting, which takes its model from real nature, -and not, as the <i>Italian</i>, from the contemplative -idea of beauty<a id="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">29</a>. The <i>former</i> corresponds to that -other fault objected also to the Flemish masters, which -consists in their copying from particular odd and -grotesque nature in contradistinction to general and -graceful nature.</p> - -<p>We see then that in deviating from particular and -partial, the poet more faithfully imitates <i>universal</i>, -truth. And thus an answer occurs to that refined -argument, which Plato invented and urged, with -much seeming complacency, against poetry. It is, -that <i>poetical imitation is at a great distance from -truth</i>. “Poetical expression, says the Philosopher, -is the copy of the poet’s own conceptions; the poet’s -conception, of things, and things, of the standing -archetype, as existing in the divine mind. Thus -the poet’s expression, is a copy at third hand, from -the primary, original truth.” [Plat. De rep. l. x.] -Now the diligent study of this rule of the poet obviates -this reasoning at once. For, by abstracting -from existences all that peculiarly respects and discriminates -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">257</span> -the <i>individual</i>, the poet’s conception, as -it were neglecting the intermediate particular objects, -catches, as far as may be, and reflects the divine -archetypal idea, and so becomes itself the copy or -image of truth. Hence too we are taught the force -of that unusual encomium on poetry by the great -critic, <i>that it is something more severe and philosophical -than history</i>, φιλοσοφώτερον καὶ σπουδαιότερον -ποίησις ἱστορίας ἐστίν. The reason follows, which is -now very intelligible; ἡ μὲν γὰρ ποίησις μᾶλλον τὰ -καθόλου, ἡ δ’ ἱστορία τὰ καθ’ ἕκαστον λέγει. [Περ. -ποιητ. κ. θ.] And this will further explain an essential -difference, as we are told, between the two -great rivals of the Greek stage. Sophocles, in return -to such as objected a want of truth in his characters, -used to plead, <i>that he drew men such as -they ought to be, Euripides such as they were</i>. -Σοφοκλῆς ἔφη, αὐτὸς μὲν οἷοί δεῖ ποιεῖν, Εὐριπίδης δὲ -οἷοί εἰσι. [Περ. ποιητ. κ. κε.] The meaning of -which is, Sophocles, from his more extended commerce -with mankind, had enlarged and widened the -narrow, partial conception, arising from the contemplation -of <i>particular</i> characters, into a complete -comprehension of the <i>kind</i>. Whereas the philosophic -Euripides, having been mostly conversant in -the academy, when he came to look into life, keeping -his eye too intent on single, really existing personages, -sunk the <i>kind</i> in the <i>individual</i>; and so -painted his characters naturally indeed, and <i>truly</i>, -with regard to the objects in view, but sometimes -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">258</span> -without that general and universally striking likeness, -which is demanded to the full exhibition of -poetical truth.</p> - -<p>But here an objection meets us, which must not -be overlooked. It will be said, “that philosophic -speculations are more likely to render men’s views -<i>abstract</i> and <i>general</i> than to confine them to <i>individuals</i>. -This latter is a fault arising from the -<i>small number</i> of objects men happen to contemplate: -and may be removed not only by taking a view of -many <i>particulars</i>, which is knowledge of the world; -but also by reflecting on the <i>general nature</i> of men, -as it appears in good books of morality. For the -writers of such books form their <i>general</i> notion of -human nature from an extensive experience (either -their own, or that of others) without which their -writings are of no value.” The answer, I think, is -this. <i>By reflecting on the general nature of man</i> -the philosopher learns, what is the tenor of action -arising from the predominancy of certain qualities -or properties; <i>i. e.</i> in general, what that conduct is, -which the imputed character requires. But to perceive -clearly and certainly, how far, and with what -degree of strength this or that character will, on -particular occasions, most probably shew itself, this -is the fruit only of a knowledge of the world. Instances -of a want of this knowledge cannot be supposed -frequent in such a writer, as Euripides; nor, -when they occur, so glaring as to strike a common -reader. They are niceties, which can only be -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">259</span> -discerned by the true critic; and even to <i>him</i>, at -this distance of time, from an ignorance of the -Greek manners, that may possibly appear a fault, -which is a real beauty. It would therefore be dangerous -to think of pointing out the places, which -Aristotle might believe liable to this censure in Euripides. -I will however presume to mention one, -which, if not justly criticized, will, at least, serve to -illustrate my meaning.</p> - -<p>The story of his <i>Electra</i> is well known. The -poet had to paint, in the character of this princess, -a virtuous, but fierce, resentful woman; stung by a -sense of personal ill treatment; and instigated to -the revenge of a father’s death, by still stronger -motives. A disposition of this warm temperament, -it might be concluded by the philosopher in his -closet, would be prompt to shew itself. <i>Electra</i> -would, on any proper occasion, be ready to avow -her resentment, as well as to forward the execution -of her purpose. But to what lengths would this -<i>resentment</i> go? <i>i. e.</i> what degree of fierceness might -<i>Electra</i> express, without affording occasion to a -person widely skilled in mankind, and the operation -of the passions, to say, “this is improbable?” -Here abstract theories will be of little service. Even -a moderate acquaintance with real life will be unable -to direct us. Many individuals may have fallen -under observation, that will justify the poet in carrying -the expression of such a <i>resentment</i> to any -extreme. History would, perhaps, furnish examples, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">260</span> -in which a virtuous resentment hath been -carried even farther than is here represented by the -poet. What way then of determining the precise -bounds and limits of it? Only by observing in -numerous instances, <i>i. e.</i> from a large extensive -knowledge of practical life, how far it usually, in -such characters, and under such circumstances, -prevails. Hence a difference of representation will -arise in proportion to the extent of that <i>knowledge</i>. -Let us now see, how the character before us, hath, -in fact, been managed by Euripides.</p> - -<p>In that fine scene, which passes between Electra -and Orestes, whom as yet she suspects not to be -her brother, the conversation very naturally turns -upon Electra’s distresses, and the author of them, -Clytæmnestra, as well as on her hopes of deliverance -from them by the means of Orestes. The -dialogue upon this proceeds:</p> - -<p><i>Or.</i> What then of Orestes, were he to return to -this Argos?</p> - -<p><i>El.</i> Ah! wherefore that question, when there is -no prospect of his return at all?</p> - -<p><i>Or.</i> But supposing he should return, how would -he go about to revenge the death of his father?</p> - -<p><i>El.</i> In the same way, in which that father suffered -from the daring attempts of his enemies.</p> - -<p><i>Or.</i> And could you then dare to undertake with -him the murder of your mother?</p> - -<p><i>El.</i> Yes, with that very steel, with which she -murdered my father. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">261</span></p> - -<p><i>Or.</i> And am I at liberty to relate this to your -brother, as your fixed resolution?</p> - -<p><i>El.</i> I desire only to live, till I have murdered my -mother. The Greek is still stronger:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>May I die, as soon as I have murdered my mother!</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Now that this last sentence is absolutely unnatural, -will not be pretended. There have been doubtless -many examples, under the like circumstances, of an -expression of revenge carried thus far. Yet, I think, -we can hardly help being a little shocked at the -fierceness of <i>this</i> expression. At least <i>Sophocles</i> has -not thought fit to carry it to that extreme. In him, -<i>Electra</i> contents herself with saying to <i>Orestes</i>, -on a similar occasion:</p> - -<p>“The conduct of this affair now rests upon you. -Only let me observe this to you, that, had I been -left alone, I would not have failed in one of these -two purposes, either to deliver myself gloriously, -or to perish gloriously.”</p> - -<p>Whether this representation of Sophocles be not -more agreeable to <i>truth</i>, as collected from wide observation, -i. e. from human nature at large, than -that of Euripides, the capable reader will judge. If -it be, the reason I suppose to have been, <i>that Sophocles -painted his characters, such, as, from attending -to numerous instances of the same kind, he -would conclude they ought to be; Euripides, such, -as a narrower sphere of observation had persuaded -him they were</i>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">262</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>319. <span class="smcap">Interdum speciosa locis</span>, &c.] The -poet’s science in <i>ethics</i> will principally shew itself in -these two ways, 1. in furnishing proper matter for -general reflexion on human life and conduct; and, -2. in a due adjustment of the manners. By the -former of these two applications of moral knowledge -a play becomes, what the poet calls, <i>speciosa locis</i>, -i. e. (for the term is borrowed from the rhetoricians) -<i>striking in its moral topics</i>: a merit of the highest -importance on the ancient stage, and which, if prudently -employed in subserviency to the <i>latter</i> more -essential requisite of the drama, <i>a just expression of -the manners</i>, will deserve to be so reputed at all -times and on every theatre. The danger is, lest a -studied, declamatory <i>moral</i>, affectedly introduced, -or indulged to excess, should prejudice the natural -exhibition of the <i>characters</i>, and so convert <i>the -image of human life</i> into an unaffecting, philosophical -dialogue.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>319. <span class="smcap">Morataque recte Fabula</span>, &c.] This -judgment of the poet, in regard of the superior efficacy -of <i>manners</i>, is generally thought to be contradicted -by Aristotle; who in treating this subject, -observes, “that let a piece be never so perfect in the -<i>manners</i>, <i>sentiments</i>, and <i>style</i>, it will not so -well answer the end and purpose of tragedy, as if -defective in these, and finished only in the fable -and composition.” Ἐάν τις ἐφεξῆς θῇ ῥήσεις -ἠθικὰς καὶ λέξεις καὶ διανοίας εὖ πεποιημένας, οὐ ποιήσει -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">263</span> -ὃ ἦν τῆς τραγῳδίας ἔργον, ἀλλὰ πολὺ μᾶλλον ἡ καταδεεστέροις -τούτοις κεχρημένη τραγῳδία, ἔχουσα δὲ μῦθον -καὶ σύστασιν πραγμάτων. Κεφ. ϛʹ. M. Dacier thinks -to clear this matter by saying, “that what Aristotle -remarks holds true of tragedy, but not of comedy, -of which alone Horace is here speaking.” But -granting that the artificial contexture of the fable is -less necessary to the perfection of comedy, than of -tragedy (as it certainly is), yet the tenor of this -whole division, exhorting to correctness in general, -makes it unquestionable, that Horace must intend -to include <i>both</i>. The case, as it seems to me, is -this. The poet is not comparing the respective importance -of the <i>fable</i> and <i>manners</i>, but of the <i>manners</i> -and <i>diction</i>, under this word including also -<i>numbers</i>. He gives them the preference <i>not</i> to a -<i>good plot</i>, nor even to <i>fine sentiments</i>, but to <i>versus -inopes rerum nugæque canoræ</i>. The <i>art</i> he speaks -of, is the art of <i>expressing</i> the thoughts properly, -gracefully, and harmoniously: the <i>pondus</i> is the -force and energy of good <i>versification</i>. <i>Venus</i> is a -general term including both kinds of beauty. <i>Fabula</i> -does not mean the <i>fable</i> (in distinction from the rest) -but simply <i>a play</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>323. <span class="smcap">Graiis ingenium</span>, &c.] The Greeks being -eminent for <i>philosophy</i>, especially <i>morals</i>; the last -observation naturally gives rise to this. For the -transition is easy from their superiority, as philosophers, -to their superiority as poets; and the more -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">264</span> -easy, as the latter is shewn to be, in part, the effect -of the former. Now this superiority of the Greeks -in genius and eloquence (which would immediately -occur, on mentioning the <i>Socraticæ chartæ</i>) being -seen and confessed, we are led to ask, “whence this -arises.” The answer is, from their making <i>glory</i>, -not <i>gain</i>, the object of their wishes.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>330. <span class="smcap">Aerugo et cura peculi Cum semel imbuerit</span>, -&c.] This <i>love of gain</i>, to which Horace -imputes the imperfect state of the Roman poetry, -hath been uniformly assigned, by the wisdom of ancient -times, as the specific bane of arts and letters. -<i>Longinus</i> and <i>Quintilian</i> account, from hence, for -the decay of eloquence, <i>Galen</i> of physic, <i>Petronius</i> -of painting, and <i>Pliny</i>, of the whole circle of the -liberal arts. An ingenious modern is indeed for -carrying his views much further. He, it seems, -would account [Refl. sur la Poes. et sur la Peint. -v. ii. § xiv.] for this <i>public degeneracy</i> of taste and -literature, not from the malignity of the selfish passions, -but the baleful influences of the air, emulating, -I suppose, herein, the wisdom of that philosophy, -which teaches to lay the <i>private degeneracy</i> of -individuals on the stars. Thus much however may -be true, that other causes have generally co-operated -with it. Some of these, as might be shewn, did -not escape the attention of these wise ancients. Yet -they did right to insist chiefly on <i>this</i>, which is -every way equal to the effect ascribed to it. It is so -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">265</span> -in its <i>nature</i>: For being, as Longinus calls it, νόσημα -μικροποιὸν, <i>a disease which narrows and contracts -the soul</i>, it must, of course, restrain the generous -efforts and expansions of genius; cramp the -free powers and energies of the mind, and render it -unapt to open itself to wide views, and to the projection -of great, extensive designs. It is so in its -<i>consequences</i>. For, as one says elegantly, <i>when -the passion of avarice grows general in a country, -the temples of Honour are soon pulled down, and -all men’s sacrifices are made to Fortune</i><a id="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">30</a>. Thus -extinguishing the sense of honour, that divinest -movement in our frame, and the only one, which -can invigorate the mind under the long labours of -invention, it must needs be, that the fire and high -spirit of genius go out with it; and dragging in its -train the <i>love of pleasure</i>, that unmanliest of all the -passions, it diffuses such a languor and impotency -over the mind, as must leave it at length a prey to a -supine wasting indolence; till, as Longinus observes -of his own age (and let every friend to letters deprecate -the omen), Πάντες ἐγκαταβιοῦμεν, οὐκ ἄλλως -πονοῦντες, ἢ ἀναλαμβάνοντες, εἰ μὴ ἐπαίνου καὶ ἡδονῆς -ἕνεκα, ἀλλὰ μὴ τῆς ζήλου καὶ τιμῆς ἀξίας ποτὲ -ὠφελείας.</p> -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>333. <span class="smcap">Aut prodesse volunt, aut delectare -poetae</span>, &c.] Though these lines have the appearance -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">266</span> -of general criticism, yet do they more especially -respect the dramatic poesy. This will be evident -from attending to the context. The full boast and -glory of the drama is to <i>delight</i> and <i>instruct</i> mankind. -1. The latter praise was more especially due -to the ancient tragic muse, who did not think it -sufficient to paint lovely pourtraitures of <i>public</i> and -<i>social</i> virtue, and to call in the moralizing chorus to -her assistance, but, which was one of her discriminating -characters, she was perpetually inculcating -every branch of true moral in those brief sententious -precepts, which inform and solemnize her page. -To these precepts then the poet manifestly refers in -those lines,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Quicquid præcipies, esto brevis; ut cito dicta</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Percipiant animi dociles, teneantque fideles</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But what follows is still clearer, [2.] The other end -of the drama is to <i>entertain</i>, and this by the means -of <i>probable fiction</i>.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Ficta, voluptatis causa, sint proxima veris.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And the poet applies this to the case of the drama -in express words:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Ne quodcunque volet, poscat sibi fabula credi:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Neu pransæ Lamiæ vivum puerum extrahat alvo</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The instance of <i>Lamia</i>, as Mr. Dacier observes, is -certainly taken from some poet of that time, who -had been guilty of this misconduct. The reader -may learn from hence, how intently Horace pursues -his design of criticizing the <i>Roman</i> stage, when, in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">267</span> -treating a subject, from its nature, the most general -of any in the epistle, <i>viz. critical correctness</i>, we -yet find him so industriously recurring to this point.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>343. <span class="smcap">Miscuit utile dulci.</span>] The unnatural separation -of the <small>DULCE ET UTILE</small> hath done almost as -much hurt in <i>letters</i> as that of the <small>HONESTUM ET -UTILE</small>, which Tully somewhere complains of, hath -done in <i>morals</i>. For while the polite writer, as he -is called, contents himself with the <i>former</i> of these -qualities, and the man of erudition with the <i>latter</i>, -it comes to pass, as the same writer expresses it, -that <small>ET DOCTIS ELOQUENTIA POPULARIS, ET DISERTIS -ELEGANS DOCTRINA DESIT</small> [Orat. iii.]</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>363. <span class="smcap">Haec amat obscurum, volet haec sub -luce videri.</span>] Cicero hath given the same precept -in relation to oratory, <i>habeat illa in dicendo -admiratio ac summa laus umbram aliquam et recessum, -quo magis id, quod erit illuminatum, extare -atque eminere videatur</i>. [De orat. l. iii. -c. xxvi.]</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>373. <span class="smcap">Mediocribus esse poetis Non homines</span>, -&c.] This judgment, however severe it may seem, -is according to the practice of the best critics. We -have a remarkable instance in the case of <i>Apollonius -Rhodius</i>, who, though, in the judgment of Quintilian, -the author of no contemptible poem, yet on -account of that <i>equal mediocrity</i>, which every -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">268</span> -where prevails in him, was struck out of the list of -good writers by such sovereign judges of poetical -merit, as Aristophanes and Aristarchus. [Quint. -l. x. c. i.]</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>403. <span class="smcap">Dictae per carmina sortes</span>,] The oracles -here spoken of, are such as respect not <i>private persons</i> -(whom a natural curiosity, quickened by -anxious superstition, has ever prompted to pry into -their future fortunes) but <i>entire communities</i>; and -for these there was little place, till Ambition had -inspired great and eventful designs, and by involving -the fate of nations, had rendered the knowledge -of futurity <i>important</i>. Hence, in marking the -progress of ancient poesy, Horace judiciously postpones -<i>oracles</i>, to the <i>celebration</i> of martial <i>prowess</i>, -as being that, which gave the principal <i>eclat</i> to -them. This species of poetry then is rightly placed, -though it be true, as the commentators have objected, -that oracles were much ancienter than Homer, -and the Trojan war.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>404. <span class="smcap">Et vitae monstrata via est</span>;] Meaning -the writings of <i>Theognis</i>, <i>Phocylides</i>, <i>Hesiod</i>, and -others, which, consisting wholly of moral precepts, -are elegantly said to lay open, or discover <i>the road -of life</i>. Mr. Dacier’s interpretation, which makes -the poet mean <i>physics</i> by <i>viam vitæ</i>, is supported -by no reason. <i>Il ne faut pas</i>, says he, <i>entendre -ceci de la philosophie et des mœurs</i>; <small>CAR</small> <i>Horace se -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">269</span> -contrediroit, puisque il a dit que ce fut le premier -soin de la poesie</i>. The learned critic did not consider, -that the first care of poesy, as explained above, -and as employed by <i>Orpheus</i> and <i>Amphion</i>, was to -inculcate <i>policy</i>, not <i>moral</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>404. <span class="smcap">Et gratia regum, Pieriis tentata modis, -ludusque repertus, Et longorum operum finis: -ne forte pudori Sit tibi musa lyrae solers, et -cantor Apollo.</span>] This is one of those master-strokes, -which make the sovereign charm of this -poet. But the way in which it hath been understood, -extinguishes all its grace and beauty. <i>On les -vers employa</i>, says an interpreter, who speaks the -sense of the rest, <i>à gagner la faveur des rois, et on -les mit de tous les jeux et de tous les spectacles, -qu’on inventa pour se delasser de ses longs travaux -et de toutes ses fatigues. Je vous dis cela afin que -vous n’ayez point de honte de faire la cour aux -Muses et à Apollon.</i> And, lest this should not -seem explicit enough, he adds in a couple of notes, -that by <i>ludus repertus</i>, &c. <i>il</i> [le poete] <i>veut parler -des tragedies et des comedies que l’on faisoit jour -dans les fêtes solemnelles</i>. And then, as to the <i>ne -forte pudori</i>, <i>Cela prouve qu’ Horace ne fait cet -eloge de la poesie que pour empecher que Pison n’en -fût degouté</i>. Can any thing be more insipid? For -could the poet think so meanly of his art, as to believe -it wanted an apology? Or had the <i>courtier</i> so -little address, as to direct that apology immediately -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">270</span> -to the Pisos? Besides, what species of poesy is it -that he labours to excuse? Why, according to this -interpretation, the <i>dramatic</i>: the supreme boast of -his art, and the main subject of the epistle. And -in what <i>manner</i> does he excuse it? Why, in recommending -it, as an agreeable amusement. But his -master, Aristotle, would have furnished him with -a nobler plea: and ’tis certain, the ancients talked -at another rate of the use and end of the drama. -Let us see then, if the sense, given in the commentary, -will bring any relief to the poet. In fact, -this whole passage [from <i>et vitæ</i>, &c. to <i>cantor -Apollo</i>] obliquely glances at the two sorts of poetry -peculiarly cultivated by himself, and is an indirect -apology for his own choice of them. For 1. <i>vitæ -monstrata via est</i> is the character of his <i>sermones</i>. -And 2. all the rest, of his <i>Odes</i>. These are recommended, -agreeably to their nature, 1. as of use to -<i>conciliate the favour of princes</i>; hereby glancing -at the success of his own odes, and, with the happiest -address, insinuating the regard, which Augustus -paid to letters. 2. As contributing to the -mirth and entertainment of feasts, and especially as -holding a principal place in the celebration of those -more sacred, secular festivities (<i>longorum operum -finem</i>) which could not be duly solemnized, without -the ministration of the lyric muse.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Castis cum pueris ignara puella mariti,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Disceret unde preces, vatem ni musa dedisset?</i><br /></span> -<span class="author">2 Ep. i. 132.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">271</span></p> - -<p>And again:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i16"><i>ego Diis amicum,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Sæculo festas referente luces,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Reddidi carmen docilis modorum</i><br /></span> -<span class="i12"><i>Vatis Horatî</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="author">Carm. Sec.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In another place both ends are expressed:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i24"><i>testudo</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Divitum</i> <small>MENSIS</small> <i>et amica</i> <small>TEMPLIS</small>.<br /></span> -<span class="author">3 Od. xi.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Where it may be observed, this double character of -lyric poetry exactly corresponds to that, which the -poet had before expressly given of it in this very -epistle: the <i>gratia regum</i> being the same as</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Musa dedit fidibus Divos puerosque Deorum</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Et pugilem victorem et equum certamine primum</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="author">v. 83.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And <i>ludusque repertus</i>, describing its other office,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Et juvenum curas et libera vina referre</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="author">ib.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In this view the following line, which apologizes, -not for poesy in general, or its noblest species, the -drama, but for his own lyrics only, hath, as the -reader perceives, infinite grace; and is peculiarly -marked with that vein of exquisite humour, so -suited to the genius of the epistle, and which makes -one of the distinguishing beauties of the poet. It -hath also an extreme <i>propriety</i>; the levity of the -ode admitting, or rather requiring some apology to -the Pisos; who would be naturally led to think but -meanly of it, in comparison of the sublimer dramatic -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">272</span> -poetry. I must add, the very terms of the -apology so expresly define and characterize lyric -poetry, that it is something strange, it should have -escaped vulgar notice: <i>musa lyræ solers</i> being evidently -explained by <i>Romanæ fidicen lyræ</i> [4 Od. iii. -23.] and the epithet <i>cantor</i>, describing Apollo, as -clearly as words can do it, in the peculiar character -of <i>Lyric</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>407. <span class="smcap">Cantor Apollo. Natura fieret</span>, &c.] -The transition is delicate, and a fine instance of that -kind of method, which the Epistle demands. The -poet had just been speaking of the ode, and its inspirer, -<i>cantor Apollo</i>; and this, in the natural train -of his ideas, suggested that enthusiasm, and stretch -of genius, which is at once the characteristic and -glory of the lyric composition. And this was -ground enough, in an Epistle, to pass on to say -something concerning the power and influence of -genius in poetry in general. It was for want of attending -to so plain a reflexion as this, that the excellent -Heinsius trifled so egregiously, in his transpositions -of the Epistles, and in particular of this -very place. And the hasty censures, which M. -Dacier passed on the poet’s method, are apparently -owing to no other cause. [See his introduct. remarks.] -But to declare my sense at parting, of the <i>latter</i> of -these critics, I would say, as he himself does of the -former, <i>C’est assez parlé contre M.</i> <span class="smcap">Dacier</span>, <i>dont -j’estime et admire autant la profonde érudition, que -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">273</span> -je condamne la mauvais usage qu’il en a fait en -quelques rencontres</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>410. <span class="smcap">Alterius sic Altera poscit opem res, et -conjurat amice.</span>] This conclusion, “that art -and nature must conspire to the production of a -perfect piece,” is, in the general, unquestionably -just. If we would know the distinct powers and -provinces of each, a fine passage in Longinus will -inform us. For, of the five sources of the sublime, -enumerated by that critic, two only, “a grandeur of -conception, and the pathetic,” come from <i>nature</i>: -the rest, “a just arrangement of figures,” “a splendid -diction,” and “dignity of composition,” are -of the province of <i>art</i>. Yet, though their powers -are thus distinct, each, in order to attain its due -perfection, must conspire, and be consociated, with -the other. For that “sublime of conception” and -“pathetic enthusiasm” never make a more sure and -lasting impression, than when cloathed in the graces, -and moderated by the sober sense of <i>art</i>: as, on -the contrary, the milder beauties of “language” and -“artificial composition” are never so secure of seizing -the attention, as when raised and inspirited by -the <i>pathos</i>, or <i>sublime</i>. So that the nature of the -union, here recommended, is such, as makes it not -only necessary to the completion of that great end, -<i>viz.</i> the glory of perfect composition; but that -either part, in the alliance, may fully effect its own. -All which is but the larger explication of another -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">274</span> -passage in Longinus, who teaches, that ΤΟΤΕ Η -ΤΕΧΝΗ ΤΕΛΕΙΟΣ, ΗΝΙΚ’ ΑΝ ΦΥΣΙΣ ΕΙΝΑΙ -ΔΟΚΗΙ· Η Δ’ ΑΥ ΦΥΣΙΣ ΕΠΙΤΥΧΗΣ, ΟΤΑΝ -ΛΑΝΘΑΝΟΥΣΑ ΠΕΡΙΕΧΗΙ ΤΗΝ ΤΕΧΝΗΝ. -[περ. ὑψ. τμη. κβʹ.]</p> - -<p>But here, in parting, it will be amusing, perhaps, -to the curious reader to observe, what perpetual -matter of debate this question hath furnished to -the ancient learned.</p> - -<p>It seems first to have taken its rise from the high -pretension of poets to inspiration [see Pind. Od. iii. -Nem.], which was afterwards understood in too -literal a sense, and in time extended to all works of -genius or imitation. The orator, who, as Cicero -tells us, is <i>near a-kin to the poet</i>, set up the same -claim; principally, as it should seem, on the authority -of Socrates, who, taking occasion from the ill -use that had been made of <i>rhetoric</i>, to decry it as -an <i>art</i>, was herein followed by the most illustrious of -his scholars; amongst whom was Aristotle, [Quinct. -l. ii. c. 17.] who had written a set treatise professedly -with this view, though his books of rhetoric proceed -on very different principles. The question afterwards -appeared of so much moment to Cicero, that he discussed -it in form, in one of his dialogues De Oratore. -And Quinctilian, in still later times, found himself -obliged to resume the same debate, and hath accordingly -considered it in an entire chapter. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">275</span></p> - -<p>The long continuance of so frivolous a dispute, and -which admits so easy a decision, would go near to -persuade one, if, as Shakespeare speaks, <i>they had -not the privilege of antiquity upon them</i>, that the -pens of the ancient <i>literati</i> were not always more -wisely employed, than those of modern controversialists. -If we ask the reason, it would seem to be -owing to that ambitious spirit of subtlety and refinement, -which, as Quintilian observes, <i>puts men upon -teaching not what they believe to be true, but what, -from the falsehood or apparent strangeness of the -matter, they expect the praise of ingenuity from -being able to maintain</i>. This, I say, might seem -to be the cause of so much perversity, on the first -view, and unquestionably it had its influence. But -the truth is, the real cause was something more -general and extensive. It was, in fact, that <i>natural -proneness</i>, so Longinus terms it, <i>in mankind, to -censure and degrade things present</i>, ἴδιον ἀνθρώπου -καταμέμφεσθαι τὰ παρόντα. This in nothing holds -truer, than in what concerns the state of literature; -as may be seen from that unwearied industry of the -learned to decry whatever appears to be the prevailing -taste of the times; whether it be in suggesting some -defect to be made good by future improvements; or, -as is more common, because the easier and less invidious -task, in setting up, and magnifying some -former examples of a different cast and merit. Thus, -in the case before us, exquisite art and commanding -genius, being the two only means of rising to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">276</span> -superior literary excellence, in proportion as any age -became noted for the one, it was constantly defamed, -and the preference given to the other. So, during -the growth of letters in any state, when a sublimity -of sentiment and strength of expression make, as -under those circumstances they always will, the -characteristic of the times, the critic, disgusted with -the rude workings of nature, affects to admire only the -nicer finishings and proportions of art. When, let -but the growing experience of a few years refine and -perfect the public taste, and what was before traduced -as roughness and barbarity, becomes at once nerves, -dignity, and force. Then art is effeminacy; and -judgment want of spirit. All now is rapture and -inspiration. The exactest modern compositions -are unmanly and unnatural, <i>et solos veteres legendos -putant, neque in ullis aliis esse naturalem -eloquentiam et robur viris dignum arbitrantur</i>. -[Quinct. l. x. c. i.] The truth of this observation -might he justified from many examples. The learning -and art of <i>Pacuvius</i> (for so I understand the -epithet <i>doctus</i>) carried it before the sublime of -<i>Accius</i>; just as in elder Greece the smooth and -correct <i>Simonides</i>, <i>tenuis Simonides</i>, as Quinctilian -characterizes him, bore away the prize from the lofty -and high-spirited <i>Æschylus</i>. Afterwards indeed -the case was altered. The Athenians, grown exact -in the rules of good writing, became so enamoured -of the bold flights of Æschylus, as with a little correction -to admit him on the stage, who, by this -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">277</span> -means, frequently gained the prize from a polite and -knowing people, for what had certainly lost it him -in the simpler, and less informed theatre of his own -times. Thus too it fared with the elder Latin poets, -who, though admired indeed in their own age, but -with considerable abatement from the reason before -assigned, were perfectly idolized in that of Augustus; -so as to require the sharpest satire of our poet, to -correct the malevolent principle from whence the -affectation arose. But the observation holds of our -own writers. There was a time, when the art of -<span class="smcap">Jonson</span> was set above the divinest raptures of -<span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span>. The present age is well convinced -of the mistake. And now the genius of <span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span> -is idolized in its turn. Happily for the public taste, -it can scarcely be too much so. Yet, should any, -in the rage of erecting trophies to the genius of -ancient poesy, presume to violate the recent honours -of more correct poets, the cause of such critical perversity -will be ever the same. For all admiration of -past times, when excessive, is still to be accounted -for the same way,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Ingeniis non ille favet plauditque sepultis,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Nostra sed impugnat, nos nostraque lividus odit</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE END OF THE NOTES ON THE ART OF POETRY. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">278</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">279</span></h3> - -<h2 id="Q_HORATII_FLACCI_2">Q. HORATII FLACCI<br /> - -<span class="medium">EPISTOLA AD AUGUSTUM.</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">280</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">281</span></h2> - -<h2 id="TO_THE_REVEREND">TO THE REVEREND<br /> - -<span class="medium">MR. WARBURTON.</span></h2> - -<p>REVEREND SIR,</p> - -<p>Give me leave to present to you the following -Essay on the <i>Epistle to Augustus</i>; which, whatever -other merit it may want, is secure of this, that -it hath been planned upon the best model. For I -know not what should hinder me from declaring to -you in this public manner, that it was the early -pleasure I received from what you had written of -this sort, which <i>first</i> engaged me in the province of -criticism. And, if I have taken upon me to illustrate -<i>another</i> of the finest pieces of antiquity after -the <i>same method</i>, it is because I find myself encouraged -to do so by higher considerations, than even -the Authority of your example.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Criticism</span>, considered in its ancient and noblest -office of doing justice to the merits of great writers, -more especially in works of poetry and invention, -demands, to its perfect execution, these two qualities: -<i>a philosophic spirit</i>, capable of penetrating -the fundamental reasons of excellence in every different -species of composition; and <i>a strong imagination</i>, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">282</span> -the parent of what we call <i>true taste</i>, enabling -the critic to feel the full force of his author’s -excellence himself, and to impress a lively sense of -it upon others. Each of these abilities is necessary. -For by means of philosophy, criticism, which were -otherwise a vague and superficial thing, acquires -the soundness and solidity of science. And from -the <i>power of fancy</i>, it derives that light and energy -and spirit, which are wanting to provoke the public -emulation and carry the general conclusions of reason -into practice.</p> - -<p>Of these talents (to regard them in their separate -state) that of a <i>strong imagination</i>, as being the -commoner of the two, one would naturally suppose -should be the first to exert itself in the service of -criticism. And thus it seems, in fact, to have -happened. For there were very early in Greece a -sort of men, who, under the name of <span class="smcap">Rhapsodists</span>, -made it their business to illustrate the beauties of -their favourite writers. Though their art, indeed, -was very simple; for it consisted only in <i>acting</i> the -finest passages of their works, and in <i>repeating</i> -them, with a rapturous kind of vehemence, to an -ecstatic auditory. Whence it appears, that criticism, -as being yet in its infancy, was wholly turned -to <i>admiration</i>; a passion which true <i>judgment</i> as -little indulges in the schools of <i>Art</i>, as sound philosophy -in those of <i>Nature</i>. Accordingly these enraptured -declaimers, though they travelled down to -the politer ages, could not subsist in them. The -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">283</span> -fine ridicule of Plato, in one of his Dialogues<a id="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">31</a>, and -the growing taste for just thinking, seem perfectly -to have discredited this folly. And it was presently -seen and acknowledged even by the Rhapsodist -himself, that, how <i>divinely</i> soever he might feel -himself affected by the magnetic virtue of the muse, -yet, as he could give no intelligible account of its -subtle operations, he was assuredly no <i>Artist</i>; -ΘΕΙΟΝ εἶναι καὶ μὴ ΤΕΧΝΙΚΟΝ ἐπαινέτην.</p> - -<p>From this time they, who took upon themselves -the office of commenting and recommending the -great writers of Greece, discharged it in a very different -manner. Their researches grew severe, inquisitive, -and rational. And no wonder; for the -person, who now took the lead in these studies, and -set the fashion of them, was a <i>philosopher</i>, and, -which was happy for the advancement of this art, -the justest philosopher of antiquity. Hence <i>scientific</i> -or speculative criticism attained to perfection, -at once; and appeared in all that severity of reason -and accuracy of method, which Aristotle himself -could bestow upon it.</p> - -<p>But now this might almost seem as violent an extreme -as the other. For though to <i>understand</i> be -better than to <i>admire</i>, yet the generality of readers -<i>cannot</i>, or <i>will not</i>, understand, where there is -<i>nothing</i> for them to admire. So that <i>reason</i>, for -her own sake, is obliged to borrow something of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">284</span> -dress, and to mimic the airs, of <i>fancy</i>: And Aristotle’s -<i>reason</i> was too proud to submit to this management.</p> - -<p>Hence, the critical plan, which the Stagirite -had formed with such rigour of science, however -it might satisfy the curious speculatist, wanted to -be <i>relieved</i> and set off to the common eye by the -heightenings of eloquence. This, I observed, was -the easier task of the two; and yet it was very long -before it was <i>successfully</i> attempted. Amongst -other reasons of this delay, the principal, as you -observe, might be the fall of the public freedom of -Greece, which soon after followed. For then, instead -of the free and manly efforts of genius, which -alone could accomplish such a reformation, the -trifling spirit of the times declined into mere verbal -amusements: “whence,” as you say, “so great a -cloud of scholiasts and grammarians so soon over-spread -the learning of Greece, when once that -famous community had lost its liberty<a id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">32</a>.”</p> - -<p>And what Greece was thus unable, of a long time, -to furnish, we shall in vain seek in another great -community, which soon after flourished, in all liberal -studies. The genius of Rome was bold and elevated -enough for this task. But Criticism, of any -kind, was little cultivated, never professed as an -<i>art</i>, by this people. The specimens we have of -their ability in this way (of which the most elegant, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">285</span> -beyond dispute, are the two epistles to <i>Augustus</i>, -and the <i>Pisos</i>) are slight occasional attempts; made -in the negligence of common sense, and adapted to -the peculiar exigencies of their own taste and learning: -and not by any means the regular productions -of <i>art</i>, professedly bending itself to this work, and -ambitious to give the last finishing to the critical -system.</p> - -<p>For so great an effort as this we are to look back -to the confines of Greece. And there at length, -and even from beneath the depression of slavery -(but with a spirit that might have done honour to -its age of greatest liberty) a <small>CRITIC</small> arose, singularly -qualified for so generous an undertaking. His profession, -which was that of a <i>rhetorical sophist</i>, required -him to be fully instructed in the graces and -embellishments of eloquence; and these, the vigour -of his genius enabled him to comprehend in their -utmost force and beauty. In a word, <span class="smcap">Longinus</span> -was the person, whom, of all the critics of antiquity, -nature seems to have formed with the proper talents -to give the last honour to his profession, and penetrate -the very soul of fine writing.</p> - -<p>Yet so bounded is human <i>wit</i>, and with such -difficulty is human <i>art</i> compleated, that even here -the advantage, which had been so fortunately gained -on the one hand, was, in great measure, lost and -forfeited on the other. He had softened indeed the -severity of Aristotle’s plan; but, in doing this, had -gone back again too far into the manner of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">286</span> -admiring Rhapsodist. In short, with the brightest -views of nature and true beauty, which the finest -imagination could afford to the best critic, he now -wanted, in a good degree, that precision, and depth -of thought, which had so eminently distinguished -his predecessor. For, as Plotinus long ago observed -of him, <i>though he had approved himself a master -of polite literature, he was</i> <small>NO</small> <i>Philosopher</i>; ΦΙΛΟΛΟΓΟΣ -ΜΕΝ, ΦΙΛΟΣΟΦΟΣ ΔΕ ΟΥΔΑΜΩΣ.</p> - -<p>Thus the art had been shifting reciprocally into -two extremes. And in one or other of these extremes, -it was likely to continue. For the fame -and eminent ability of their great founders had -made them considered as <i>models</i>, in their different -ways, of perfect criticism. Only it was easy to -foresee which of them the humour of succeeding -times would be most disposed to emulate. The -catching enthusiasm and picturesque fancy of the -<i>one</i> would be sure to prevail over the coolness and -austerity of the <i>other</i>. Accordingly in the last and -present century, when now the diligence of learned -men had, by restoring the purity, opened an easy -way to the study, of the old classics, a numberless -tribe of commentators have attempted, after the -manner of Longinus, to <i>flourish</i> on the excellencies -of their composition. And some of them, indeed, -succeeded so well in this method, that one is not to -wonder it soon became the popular and only authorized -form of what was reputed <i>just Criticism</i>. -Yet, as nothing but superior genius could make it -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">287</span> -tolerable even in the best of these, it was to be expected -(what experience hath now fully shewn), -that it would at length, and in ordinary hands, degenerate -into the most unmeaning, frivolous, and -disgustful jargon, that ever discredited polite letters.</p> - -<p>This, Sir, was the state in which you received -<i>modern Criticism</i>: a state, which could only shew -you, that, of the two models, antiquity had furnished -to our use, we had learned, by an awkward -imitation of it, to abuse the <i>worst</i>. But it did not -content your zeal for the service of letters barely -to remedy this <i>abuse</i>. It was not enough, in your -enlarged view of things, to restore either of these -models to its ancient splendour. They were both -to be revived; or rather a new original plan of criticism -was to be struck out, which should unite -the virtues of each of them. The experiment was -made on the <small>TWO</small> greatest of our own poets; and, -by reflecting all the lights of the imagination on -the severest reason, every thing was effected, which -the warmest admirer of ancient art could promise to -himself from such an union. But you went farther. -By joining to these powers a perfect insight into -human nature, and so ennobling the exercise of <i>literary</i>, -by the addition of the justest moral, censure, -you have now, at length, advanced <small>CRITICISM</small> to its -full glory.</p> - -<p>Not but, considering the inveterate foible of mankind, -which the poet so justly satirizes in the following -work, I mean that, which disposes them to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">288</span> -malign and depreciate all the efforts of wit and -virtue,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">—nisi quae terris semota suisque<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Temporibus defuncta videt—<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Considering, I say, this temper of mankind, -you may sooner, perhaps, expect the censures of -the dull and envious of all denominations, than the -candid applause of the public, even for this service.</p> - -<p>I apprehend this consequence the rather, because -criticism, though it be <i>the last fruit of literary -experience</i>, is more exposed to the cavils of ignorance -and vanity, than, perhaps, any other species -of learned application: all men being forward to -judge, and few men giving themselves leave to doubt -of their being able to judge, of the merits of well-known -and popular writers.</p> - -<p>Nor is this all: When writers of a certain rank -condescend to this work of criticism, the innovation -excites a very natural ferment in the <i>men of the -profession</i>.</p> - -<p>Their <small>JEALOUSY</small> is alarmed, as if there was a -design to strip them of the only honour they can -reasonably pretend to, that of sitting in judgment -on the <i>inventions</i> of their betters. But to <small>JUDGE</small>, -he well as to <small>INVENT</small>, is thought a violent encroachment -in the republic of Letters; not unlike the -ambition of the Roman emperors, who would be -consuls, and censors too, that is, would have the -privilege of excluding from the senate, as well as of -presiding in it. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">289</span></p> - -<p>But if jealousy were out of the case, their <small>MALIGNITY</small> -would be much inflamed by this intrusion. -For who can bear to see his own weak endeavours in -any art, disgraced by a consummate model?</p> - -<p>Besides, to say the truth, the conceptions of -such writers, as I before spoke of, lie so remote -from vulgar apprehension, that, without either -<i>jealousy</i> or <i>malignity</i>, <small>DULLNESS</small> itself will be sure -to create them many peevish detractors. For an -ordinary critic can scarce help finding fault with -what he does not understand, or being angry -where he has no ideas.</p> - -<p>On all these accounts it may possibly happen, as -I said, that your critical labours will draw upon you -much popular resentment and invective.</p> - -<p>But if such should be the <i>present</i> effect of your -endeavours to cultivate and complete this elegant -part of literature, you, who know the temper of the -learned world, and, by your eminent merits, have -so oft provoked its injustice, will not be disturbed or -surprized at it: much less should it discourage -those who are disposed to do you more right, from -celebrating, and, as they find themselves able, -from copying your example;</p> - -<p>For <small>USE</small> will father what’s begot by <small>SENSE</small>, -as well in this, as in other instances.</p> - -<p>You see, Sir, what there is of encomium in the -turn of this Letter, was intended not so much for -your sake, as my own. Had my purpose been any -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">290</span> -other, I must have chosen very ill among the various -parts of your character to take <i>this</i> for the -subject of an address to you. For, after all I have -said and think of your critical abilities, it might -seem almost as strange in a panegyrist on Mr. Warburton -to tell of his admirable criticisms on <span class="smcap">Pope</span> -and <span class="smcap">Shakespear</span>, as it would be in him, who -should design an encomium on Socrates, to insist -on his excellent sculpture of <small>MERCURY</small> and the -<small>GRACES</small>. Yet there is a time, when it may be -allowed to lay a stress on the amusements of such -men. It is, when an adventurer in either <i>art</i> -would do an honour to his profession.</p> - -<p><span style="padding-left: 4em">I am, with the truest esteem,</span><br /> -<span style="padding-left: 6em">Reverend Sir,</span><br /> -<span style="padding-left: 8em">Your most obedient</span><br /> -<span style="padding-left: 10em">and most humble servant,</span><br /> -<span style="padding-left: 12em"><span class="smcap">R. Hurd</span>.</span><br /> -<span style="padding-left: 2em"><span class="smcap">Cambridge</span>,</span><br /> -<i>March 29, 1753</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">291</span></p> - -<h2>Q. HORATII FLACCI<br /> - -<span class="medium">EPISTOLA AD AUGUSTUM.</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cum tot sustineas et tanta negotia solus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Res Italas armis tuteris, moribus ornes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Legibus emendes; in publica commoda peccem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si longo sermone morer tua tempora, Caesar.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">292</span> -<span class="i0">Romulus, et Liber pater, et cum Castore Pollux, <span class="linenum">5</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Post ingentia fata, Deorum in templa recepti,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dum terras hominumque colunt genus, aspera bella<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Conponunt, agros adsignant, oppida condunt;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ploravere suis non respondere favorem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Speratum meritis. diram qui contudit Hydram, <span class="linenum">10</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Notaque fatali portenta labore subegit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Comperit invidiam supremo fine domari.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Urit enim fulgore suo, qui praegravat artis<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">293</span> -<span class="i0">Infra se positas: extinctus amabitur idem.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Praesenti tibi maturos largimur honores, <span class="linenum">15</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jurandasque tuum per numen ponimus aras,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nil oriturum alias, nil ortum tale fatentes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sed tuus hoc populus sapiens et justus in uno,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Te nostris ducibus, te Graiis anteferendo,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cetera nequaquam simili ratione modoque <span class="linenum">20</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aestimat; et, nisi quae terris semota suisque<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">294</span> -<span class="i0">Temporibus defuncta videt, fastidit et odit:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sic fautor veterum, ut Tabulas peccare vetantis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quas bis quinque viri sanxerunt, Foedera regum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vel Gabiis vel cum rigidis aequata Sabinis, <span class="linenum">25</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pontificum libros, annosa volumina Vatum,<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">295</span> -<span class="i0">Dictitet Albano Musas in monte locutas.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si, quia Graiorum sunt antiquissima quaeque<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scripta vel optima, Romani pensantur eadem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scriptores trutina; non est quod multa loquamur: <span class="linenum">30</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nil intra est olea, nil extra est in nuce duri:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Venimus ad summum fortunae: pingimus, atque<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Psallimus, et luctamur Achivis doctius unctis.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">296</span> -<span class="i0">Si meliora dies, ut vina, poemata reddit;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scire velim, chartis pretium quotus arroget annus, <span class="linenum">35</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scriptor ab hinc annos centum qui decidit, inter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perfectos veteresque referri debet, an inter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vilis atque novos? excludat jurgia finis.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Est vetus atque probus centum qui perficit annos.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quid? qui deperiit minor uno mense vel anno, <span class="linenum">40</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inter quos referendus erit? veteresne poetas,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An quos et praesens et postera respuat aetas?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">297</span> -<span class="i0">Iste quidem veteres inter ponetur honeste,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Qui vel mense brevi, vel toto est junior anno.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Utor permisso, caudaeque pilos ut equinae <span class="linenum">45</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Paullatim vello; et demo unum, demo et item unum;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dum cadat elusus ratione ruentis acervi,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Qui redit in fastos, et virtutem aestimat annis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Miraturque nihil, nisi quod Libitina sacravit.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ennius et sapiens, et fortis, et alter Homerus, <span class="linenum">50</span><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">298</span> -<span class="i0">Ut critici dicunt, leviter curare videtur<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quo promissa cadant, et somnia Pythagorea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Naevius in manibus non est, et mentibus haeret<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pene recens? adeo sanctum est vetus omne poema.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ambigitur quotiens, uter utro sit prior; aufert <span class="linenum">55</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pacuvius docti famam senis, Accius alti:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dicitur Afranî toga convenisse Menandro:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Plautus ad exemplar Siculi properare Epicharmi;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vincere Caecilius gravitate, Terentius arte.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hos ediscit, et hos arto stipata theatro <span class="linenum">60</span><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">299</span> -<span class="i0">Spectat Roma potens; habet hos numeratque poetas<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ad nostrum tempus, Livî Scriptoris ab aevo.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Interdum volgus rectum videt: est ubi peccat.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si veteres ita miratur laudatque poetas,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ut nihil anteferat, nihil illis comparet; errat: <span class="linenum">65</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si quaedam nimis antique, si pleraque dure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dicere cedit eos, ignave multa fatetur;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et sapit, et mecum facit, et Jove judicat aequo.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Non equidem insector, delendave carmina Laevî<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">300</span> -<span class="i0">Esse reor, memini quae plagosum mihi parvo <span class="linenum">70</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Orbilium dictare; sed emendata videri<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pulchraque, et exactis minimum distantia, miror:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inter quae verbum emicuit si forte decorum,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si versus paulo concinnior unus et alter;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Injuste totum ducit venitque poema. <span class="linenum">75</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Indignor quicquam reprehendi, non quia crasse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Compositum, inlepideve putetur, sed quia nuper:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nec veniam antiquis, sed honorem et praemia posci.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Recte necne crocum floresque perambulet Attae<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">301</span> -<span class="i0">Fabula, si dubitem; clament periisse pudorem <span class="linenum">80</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cuncti pene patres: ea cum reprehendere coner,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quae gravis Aesopus, quae doctus Roscius egit.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vel quia nil rectum, nisi quod placuit sibi, ducunt;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vel quia turpe putant parere minoribus, et, quae<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inberbi didicere, senes perdenda fateri. <span class="linenum">85</span><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">302</span> -<span class="i0">Jam Saliare Numae carmen qui laudat, et illud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quod mecum ignorat, solus volt scire videri;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ingeniis non ille favet plauditque sepultis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nostra sed inpugnat, nos nostraque lividus odit.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quod si tam Graiis novitas invisa fuisset, <span class="linenum">90</span><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">303</span> -<span class="i0">Quam nobis; quid nunc esset vetus? aut quid haberet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quod legeret tereretque viritim publicus usus?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ut primum positis nugari Graecia bellis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Coepit, et in vitium fortuna labier aequa;<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">304</span> -<span class="i0">Nunc athletarum studiis, nunc arsit equorum: <span class="linenum">95</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Marmoris, aut eboris fabros, aut aeris amavit;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Suspendit picta vultum mentemque tabella;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nunc tibicinibus, nunc est gavisa tragoedis:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sub nutrice puella velut si luderet infans,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quod cupide petiit, mature plena reliquit. <span class="linenum">100</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quid placet, aut odio est, quod non mutabile credas?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hoc paces habuere bonae, ventique secundi.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">305</span> -<span class="i0">Romae dulce diu fuit et sollenne, reclusa<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mane domo vigilare, clienti promere jura:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scriptos nominibus rectis expendere nummos: <span class="linenum">105</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Majores audire, minori dicere, per quae<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crescere res posset, minui damnosa libido.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mutavit mentem populus levis, et calet uno<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scribendi studio: puerique patresque severi<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fronde comas vincti coenant, et carmina dictant. <span class="linenum">110</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ipse ego, qui nullos me adfirmo scribere versus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Invenior Parthis mendacior; et prius orto<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sole vigil, calamum et chartas et scrinia posco.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">306</span> -<span class="i0">Navem agere ignarus navis timet: abrotonum aegro<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Non audet, nisi qui didicit, dare: quod medicorum est, <span class="linenum">115</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Promittunt medici: tractant fabrilia fabri:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scribimus indocti doctique poemata passim.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hic error tamen et levis haec insania quantas<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Virtutes habeat, sic collige: vatis avarus<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Non temere est animus: versus amat, hoc studet unum; <span class="linenum">120</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Detrimenta, fugas servorum, incendia ridet:<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">307</span> -<span class="i0">Non fraudem socio, puerove incogitat ullam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pupillo: vivit siliquis, et pane secundo:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Militiae quanquam piger et malus, utilis urbi;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si das hoc, parvis quoque rebus magna juvari; <span class="linenum">125</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Os tenerum pueri balbumque poëta figurat:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Torquet ab obscoenis jam nunc sermonibus aurem;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mox etiam pectus praeceptis format amicis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Asperitatis et invidiae corrector et irae:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Recte facta refert; orientia tempora notis <span class="linenum">130</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Instruit exemplis; inopem solatur et aegrum.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Castis cum pueris ignara puella mariti<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Disceret unde preces, vatem ni Musa dedisset?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">308</span> -<span class="i0">Poscit opem chorus, et praesentia numina sentit;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Coelestis implorat aquas, docta prece blandus; <span class="linenum">135</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Avertit morbos, metuenda pericula pellit;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inpetrat et pacem, et locupletem frugibus annum:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Carmine Dî superi placantur, carmine Manes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Agricolae prisci, fortes, parvoque beati,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Condita post frumenta, levantes tempore festo <span class="linenum">140</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Corpus et ipsum animum spe finis dura ferentem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cum sociis operum pueris et conjuge fida,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tellurem porco, Silvanum lacte piabant,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Floribus et vino Genium memorem brevis aevi.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fescennina per hunc invecta licentia morem <span class="linenum">145</span><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">309</span> -<span class="i0">Versibus alternis opprobria rustica fudit;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Libertasque recurrentis accepta per annos<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lusit amabiliter: donec jam saevus apertam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In rabiem coepit verti jocus, et per honestas<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ire domos impune minax. doluere cruento <span class="linenum">150</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dente lacessiti: fuit intactis quoque cura<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Conditione super communi: quin etiam lex<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poenaque lata, malo quae nollet carmine quemquam<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">310</span> -<span class="i0">Describi. vertere modum, formidine fustis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ad bene dicendum delectandumque redacti. <span class="linenum">155</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Graecia capta ferum victorem cepit, et artis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Intulit agresti Latio. sic horridus ille<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Defluxit numerus Saturnius, et grave virus<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Munditiae pepulere: sed in longum tamen aevum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Manserunt, hodieque manent, vestigia ruris. <span class="linenum">160</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Serus enim Graecis admovit acumina chartis;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et post Punica bella quietus quaerere coepit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quid Sophocles et Thespis et Aeschylos utile ferrent:<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">311</span> -<span class="i0">Tentavit quoque rem, si digne vertere posset:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et placuit sibi, natura sublimis et acer. <span class="linenum">165</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nam spirat tragicum satis, et feliciter audet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sed turpem putat inscitus metuitque lituram.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Creditur, ex medio quia res arcessit, habere<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sudoris minimum; sed habet Comoedia tanto<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Plus oneris, quanto veniae minus. aspice, Plautus <span class="linenum">170</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quo pacto partis tutetur amantis ephebi;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ut patris attenti, lenonis ut insidiosi:<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">312</span> -<span class="i0">Quantus sit Dossennus edacibus in parasitis:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quam non adstricto percurrat pulpita socco.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gestit enim nummum in loculos demittere; post hoc <span class="linenum">175</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Securus, cadat an recto stet fabula talo.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quem tulit ad scenam ventoso gloria curru,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Exanimat lentus spectator, sedulus inflat.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sic leve, sic parvum est, animum quod laudis avarum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Subruit ac reficit. valeat res ludicra, si me <span class="linenum">180</span><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">313</span> -<span class="i0">Palma negata macrum, donata reducit opimum.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saepe, etiam audacem, fugat hoc terretque poetam;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quod numero plures, virtute et honore minores,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Indocti, stolidique, et depugnare parati<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si discordet eques, media inter carmina poscunt <span class="linenum">185</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aut ursum aut pugiles: his nam plebecula gaudet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Verum equiti quoque jam migravit ab aure voluptas<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Omnis, ad ingratos oculos, et gaudia vana.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quatuor aut pluris aulaea premuntur in horas;<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">314</span> -<span class="i0">Dum fugiunt equitum turmae, peditumque catervae: <span class="linenum">190</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mox trahitur manibus regum fortuna retortis:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Esseda festinant, pilenta, petorrita, naves:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Captivum portatur ebur, captiva Corinthus.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si foret in terris, rideret Democritus; seu<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">315</span> -<span class="i0">Diversum confusa genus panthera camelo, <span class="linenum">195</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sive elephas albus volgi converterit ora:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spectaret populum ludis attentius ipsis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ut sibi praebentem mimo spectacula plura:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scriptores autem narrare putaret asello<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fabellam surdo. nam quae pervincere voces <span class="linenum">200</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Evaluere sonum, referunt quem nostra theatra?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Garganum mugire putes nemus, aut mare Tuscum.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tanto cum strepitu ludi spectantur, et artes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Divitiaeque peregrinae: quibus oblitus actor<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cum stetit in scena, concurrit dextera laevae: <span class="linenum">205</span><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">316</span> -<span class="i0">Dixit adhuc aliquid? nil sane. quid placet ergo?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lana Tarentino violas imitata veneno.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ac ne forte putes me, quae facere ipse recusem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cum recte tractent alii, laudare maligne:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ille per extentum funem mihi posse videtur <span class="linenum">210</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ire poeta; meum qui pectus inaniter angit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus inplet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ut magus; et modo me Thebis, modo ponit Athenis.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Verum age, et his, qui se lectori credere malunt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quam spectatoris fastidia ferre superbi, <span class="linenum">215</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Curam impende brevem: si munus Apolline dignum<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">317</span> -<span class="i0">Vis complere libris; et vatibus addere calcar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ut studio majore petant Helicona virentem.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Multa quidem nobis facimus mala saepe poëtae,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Ut vineta egomet caedam mea) cum tibi librum <span class="linenum">220</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sollicito damus, aut fesso: cum laedimur, unum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si quis amicorum est ausus reprendere versum:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cum loca jam recitata revolvimus inrevocati:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cum lamentamur non adparere labores<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nostros, et tenui deducta poemata filo: <span class="linenum">225</span><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">318</span> -<span class="i0">Cum speramus eo rem venturam, ut, simul atque<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Carmina rescieris nos fingere, commodus ultro<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Arcessas, et egere vetes, et scribere cogas.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sed tamen est operae pretium cognoscere, qualis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aedituos habeat belli spectata domique <span class="linenum">230</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Virtus, indigno non committenda poetae.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gratus Alexandro regi Magno fuit ille<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">319</span> -<span class="i0">Choerilos, incultis qui versibus et male natis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rettulit acceptos, regale nomisma, Philippos.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sed veluti tractata notam labemque remittunt <span class="linenum">235</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Atramenta, fere scriptores carmine foedo<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Splendida facta linunt. idem rex ille, poëma<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Qui tam ridiculum tam care prodigus emit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Edicto vetuit; ne quis se, praeter Apellen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pingeret, aut alius Lysippo cuderet aera <span class="linenum">240</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fortis Alexandri voltum simulantia. quod si<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Judicium subtile videndis artibus illud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ad libros et ad haec Musarum dona vocares;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Boeotum in crasso jurares aëre natum.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At neque dedecorant tua de se judicia, atque <span class="linenum">245</span><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">320</span> -<span class="i0">Munera, quae multa dantis cum laude tulerunt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dilecti tibi Virgilius Variusque poetae:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nec magis expressi voltus per aënea signa,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quam per vatis opus mores animique virorum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clarorum adparent. nec sermones ego mallem <span class="linenum">250</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Repentis per humum, quam res componere gestas,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Terrarumque situs, et flumina dicere, et arcis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Montibus impositas, et barbara regna, tuisque<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Auspiciis totum confecta duella per orbem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Claustraque custodem pacis cohibentia Janum, <span class="linenum">255</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et formidatam Parthis, te principe, Romam:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Si quantum cuperem, possem quoque. sed neque parvum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Carmen majestas recipit tua; nec meus audet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rem tentare pudor, quam vires ferre recusent.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">321</span> -<span class="i0">Sedulitas autem stulte, quem diligit, urguet; <span class="linenum">260</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Praecipue cum se numeris commendat et arte.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Discit enim citius, meminitque libentius illud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quod quis deridet, quam quod probat et veneratur.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nil moror officium, quod me gravat: ac neque ficto<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In pejus voltu proponi cereus usquam, <span class="linenum">265</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nec prave factis decorari versibus opto:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne rubeam pingui donatus munere, et una<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cum scriptore meo capsa porrectus operta,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deferar in vicum vendentem tus et odores,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et piper, et quicquid chartis amicitur ineptis. <span class="linenum">270</span><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>COMMENTARY.</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Epistola ad Augustum.</span>] In conducting this work, -which is <i>an apology for the poets of his own time</i>, the method -of the writer is no other, than that which plain sense, -and the subject itself, required of him. For, as the main -dislike to the Augustan poets had arisen from an <i>excessive -reverence</i> paid to their elder brethren, the <i>first</i> part of -the epistle [from v. 1 to 118] is very naturally laid out -in the ridicule and confutation of so absurd a prejudice. -And having, by this preparation, obtained a candid -hearing for his defence, he then proceeds [in what follows, -to the <i>end</i>] to vindicate their real <i>merits</i>; setting -in view the excellencies of the <i>Latin poetry</i>, as cultivated -by the great modern masters; and throwing the blame -of their ill success, and of the contempt in which they -had lain, not so much on themselves, or their <i>profession</i> -(the dignity of <i>which</i>, in particular, he insists highly -upon, and asserts with spirit) as on the vicious taste of -the age, and certain unfavouring circumstances, which -had accidentally concurred to dishonour <i>both</i>.</p> - -<p>This idea of the <i>general</i> plan being comprehended, the -reader will find it no difficulty to perceive the order and -arrangement of <i>particular</i> parts, which the natural transition -of the poet’s thought insensibly drew along with it.</p> - -<p>5-118. <span class="smcap">Romulus, et Liber pater</span>, &c.] The subject -commences from v. 5, where, by a contrivance of -great beauty, a pertinent <i>illustration</i> of the poet’s argument -becomes an offering of the happiest <i>address</i> to the -emperor. Its <i>double</i> purpose may be seen thus. His -primary intention was to take off the force of prejudice -against <i>modern</i> poets, arising from the superior veneration -of the <i>ancients</i>. To this end the first thing wanting -was to demonstrate by some striking instance, that it -was, indeed, nothing but <i>prejudice</i>; which he does -effectually in taking that instance from the <i>heroic</i>, that -is, the most revered, ages. For if such, whose acknowledged -virtues and eminent services had raised them to -the rank of <i>heroes</i>, that is, in the pagan conception of -things, to the honours of <i>divinity</i>, could not secure their -fame, in their own times, against the malevolence of -slander, what wonder that the race of <i>wits</i>, whose obscurer -merit is less likely to dazzle the public eye, and -yet, by a peculiar fatality, is more apt to awaken its -jealousy, should find themselves oppressed by its rudest -censure? In the <i>former</i> case the honours, which equal -posterity paid to excelling worth, declare all <i>such</i> censure -to have been the calumny of malice only. What -reason then to conclude, it had any other original in -the <i>latter</i>? This is the poet’s <i>argument</i>.</p> - -<p>But now, of these worthies themselves, whom the -justice of grateful posterity had snatched out of the hands -of detraction, there were some, it seems, whose illustrious -services the virtue or vain-glory of the emperor -most affected to emulate; and these, therefore, the -poet, by an ingenious flattery, selects for examples to -his general <i>observation</i>,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Romulus, et Liber pater, et cum Castore Pollux</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Post ingentia fata</i>, &c.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Further, as the good fortune of Augustus, though -adorned with the <i>same</i> enviable qualities, had exempted -<i>him</i> from the injuries which had constantly befallen -<i>those admired characters</i>, this peculiar circumstance in -the history of his prince affords him the happiest occasion, -flattery could desire, of paying distinguished honours -to his glory.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Praesenti tibi maturos largimur honores.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And this constitutes the fine <i>address and compliment of -his Application</i>.</p> - -<p>But this justice, which Augustus had exacted, as it -were, by the very authority of his virtue, from his applauding -people, was but ill discharged in other instances.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Sed tuus hoc populus sapiens et justus in uno,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Te nostris ducibus, te Graiis anteferendo,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Cetera nequaquam simili ratione modoque</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Aestimat</i>, &c.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And thus the very <i>exception</i> to the general rule, which -forms the encomium, leads him with advantage into his -<i>argument</i>; which was to observe and expose “the malignant -influence of prepossession in obstructing the -proper glories of living merit.” So that, as good -sense demands in every reasonable panegyric, the praise -results from the nature and foundation of the subject-matter, -and is not violently and reluctantly dragged -into it.</p> - -<p>His general charge against his countrymen “of their -bigotted attachment to those, dignified by the name -of <i>ancients</i>, in prejudice to the just deserts of the moderns,” -being thus delivered; and the folly of such -conduct, with some agreeable exaggeration, exposed; -he sets himself with a happy mixture of irony and argument, -as well becomes the genius and character of the -<i>epistle</i>, to confute the pretences, and overturn the very -<i>foundations</i>, on which it rested.</p> - -<p>One main support of their folly was taken from an -allowed fact, viz. “That the oldest <i>Greek</i> writers were -incontestably superior to the modern ones.” From -whence they inferred, that it was but according to nature -and the course of experience, to give the like preference -to the oldest <i>Roman</i> masters.</p> - -<p>His confutation of this sophism consists of two parts. -<i>First</i>, [from v. 28 to 32] he insists on the <i>evident</i> absurdity -of the opinion he is confuting. There was no -reasoning with persons, capable of such <i>extravagant positions</i>. -But, <i>secondly</i>, the pretended fact itself, with -regard to the Greek learning, was <i>grossly misunderstood, -or perversely applied</i>. For [from v. 32 to 34] it was not -true, nor could it be admitted, that the very <i>oldest</i> of -the <i>Greek</i> writers were the best, but those only, which -were old, in comparison of the mere modern Greeks. -The so much applauded models of Grecian antiquity -were themselves <i>modern</i>, in respect of the still <i>older</i> and -ruder essays of their first writers. It was long discipline -and cultivation, the same which had given the Greek -<i>artists</i> in the Augustan reign a superiority over the Roman, -that by degrees established the good taste, and -fixed the authority of the Greek <i>poets</i>; from which -point it was natural and even necessary for succeeding, -<i>i. e.</i> the modern Greeks to decline. But no consequence -lay from hence to the advantage of the Latin poets, in -question; who were wholly unfurnished with any previous -study of the arts of verse; and whose works could -only be compared with the very <i>oldest</i>, that is, the rude -forgotten essays of the Greek poetry. So that the fine -sense, so closely shut up in this concise couplet, comes -out thus: “The modern Greek masters of the <i>fine arts</i> -are confessedly superior to the modern Roman. The -reason is, they have practised them longer, and with -more diligence. Just so, the modern Roman writers -must needs have the advantage of their <i>old</i> ones: who -had no knowledge of writing, as an <i>art</i>, or, if they -had, took but small care to put it in practice.”</p> - -<p>Further, this plea of antiquity is as uncertain in its -<i>application</i>, as it was destitute of all truth and reason in -its original <i>foundation</i>. For if age only must bear away -the palm, what way is there of determining, which writers -are <i>modern</i>, and which <i>ancient</i>? The impossibility of -fixing this to the satisfaction of an objector, which is -pursued [to v. 50] with much agreeable raillery, makes -it evident, that the circumstance of antiquity is absolutely -nothing; and that in <i>estimating the merit</i> of writers, -the real, intrinsic excellence of their writings <i>themselves</i> -is alone to be regarded.</p> - -<p>Thus far the poet’s intent was to combat the <i>general</i> -prejudice of the critic,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Qui redit in fastos et virtutem aestimat annis.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Taking the fact for granted “of his strong prepossession -for antiquity, <i>as such</i>” he would discredit, both by raillery -and argument, so absurd a conduct. What he -gains, by this disposition, is to come to the <i>particulars</i> -of his charge with more advantage. For the popular -contempt of modern composition, sheltering itself under -a shew of learned admiration of the <i>ancients</i>, whose age -and reputation had made them truly venerable, and -whose genuine merits, in the main, could not be disputed, -a direct attack upon their fame, at setting out, -without any softening, had disgusted the most <i>moderate</i>; -whereas this prefatory appeal to common sense, under -the cover of general criticism, would even dispose bigotry -itself to afford the poet a candid hearing. His -accusation then of the public taste comes in, here, very -pertinently; and is delivered, with address [from v. 50 -to 63] in a particular detail of the judgements passed -upon the most celebrated of the old Roman poets, by -the generality of the modern critics; where, to win upon -their prejudices still further by his generosity and good -faith, he scruples not to recount such of their determinations -on the merit of ancient writers, as were reasonable -and well founded, as well as others, that he -deemed less just, and as such intended more immediately -to expose.</p> - -<p>We see then with what art the poet conducts himself -in this attack on the <i>ancients</i>, and how it served his purpose, -by turns, to soften and aggravate the <i>charge</i>. <i>First</i>, -“he wanted to lower the reputation of the old poets.” -This was not to be done by general invective or an -affected dissimulation of their just praise. He admits -then [from v. 63 to 66] their reasonable pretensions to -<i>admiration</i>. ’Tis the <i>degree</i> of it alone, to which he -objects.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Si veteres</i> <small>ITA</small> <i>miratur laudatque</i>, &c.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><i>Secondly</i>, “he wanted to draw off their applauses from -“the ancient to the modern poets.” This required the -<i>advantages</i> of those moderns to be distinctly shewn, or, -which comes to the same, the <i>comparative deficiencies</i> -of the ancients to be pointed out. These were not to be -dissembled, and are, as he openly insists [to v. 69] -<i>obsolete language</i>, <i>rude and barbarous construction</i>, and -<i>slovenly composition</i>,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Si quaedam nimis</i> <span class="smcap">antique</span>, <i>si pleraque</i> <span class="smcap">dure</span>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Dicere cedit eos</i>, <span class="smcap">ignave</span> <i>multa</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But what then? an objector replies, these were venial faults, -surely; the <i>deficiencies</i> of the times, and not of the men; -who, with such incorrectnesses as are here noted, might -still possess the greatest <i>talents</i>, and produce the noblest -<i>designs</i>. This [from v. 69 to 79] is readily admitted. -But, in the mean time, one thing was clear, that they -were not <i>finished models</i>—<i>exactis minimum distantia</i>. -Which was the main point in dispute. For the bigot’s -absurdity lay in this,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Non veniam antiquis, sed honorem et praemia posci.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Nay, his folly is shewn to have gone still greater lengths. -These boasted models of antiquity, with all their imperfections, -had occasionally [v. 73, 74] though the instances -were indeed rare and thinly scattered, <i>striking -beauties</i>. These, under the recommendation of <i>age</i>, -which, of course, commands our reverence, might well impose -on the judgements of the <i>generality</i>, and standing forth -with advantage, as from a shaded and dark <i>ground</i>, -would naturally catch the eye and admiration of the more -<i>learned</i>. Thus much the poet candidly insinuates in -excuse of the bigot’s <i>ill judgment</i>. But, unluckily, he had -cut himself off from the benefit of this plea, by avowedly -grounding his <i>admiration</i>, not merely on the intrinsic -excellence, so far as it went, of the ancient poetry itself; -but on the advantage of any extraneous circumstance, -which but casually stuck to it. The accident of a play’s -having passed though the mouth, and been graced by the -action, of a just speaker, was sufficient [from v. 79 to 83] -(so inexcusable were his prejudices) to attract his wonder, -and justify his esteem. In so much that it became an -insolence, generally cried out upon, for any one to -censure such pieces of the theatre,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Quae gravis Æsopus, quae doctus Roscius egit.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This being the case, it was no longer a doubt, whether -the affected admiration of antiquity proceeded from a deluded -judgment only, or a much worse cause. It could -plainly be resolved into no other, than the willful agency -of the malignant affections; which, wherever they prevail, -corrupt the simple and ingenuous sense of the mind, -either 1. [v. 83] <i>in engendring high conceits of self</i>, and -referring all degrees of excellence to the supposed -infallible standard of every man’s own judgment; or 2. -[to v. 86] <i>in creating a false shame</i>, and reluctancy in us -to be directed by the judgments of others, though <i>seen</i> to -be more equitable, whenever they are found in opposition -to our own rooted and preconceived opinions. The -bigotry of <i>old Men</i> is, especially, for this reason, invincible. -They hold themselves upbraided by the -sharper sight of their juniors; and regard the adoption of -new sentiments, at their years, as so much absolute loss -on the side of the dead stock of their old literary possessions. -These considerations are generally of such prevalency -in great veteran critics, that [from v. 86 to 90] -whenever, as in the case before us, they pretend an uncommon -zeal for antiquity, and their sagacity piques itself -on detecting the superior value of obscure rhapsodists -whom no body else reads, or is able to understand, we -may be sure the secret view of such, is, not the generous -defence and patronage of <i>ancient</i> wit, but a low malevolent -pleasure in decrying the just pretensions of the -<i>modern</i>.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Ingeniis non ille favet plauditque sepultis,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Nostra sed impugnat, nos nostraque lividus odit.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The poet had, now, made appear the unreasonable -attachment of his countrymen to the fame of their old -writers. He had thoroughly unravelled the sophistical -pretences, on which it affected to justify itself; and had -even dared to unveil the <i>secret iniquitous principle</i>, from -which it arose. It was now time to look forward to the -<i>effects</i> of it; which were, in truth, very baleful; its -poisonous influences being of force to corrupt and wither, -as it were, in the bud, every rising species of excellence, -and fatally to check the very hopes and tendencies of true -genius. Nothing can be truer, than this remark; which -he further enforces, and brings home to his adversaries, by -asking a pertinent question, to which it concerned them to -make a serious reply. They had magnified v. 28 the perfection -of the Greek models. But what [to v. 93] if the -Greeks had conceived the same aversion to <i>novelties</i>, as -the Romans? How then could <i>those</i> models have ever -been furnished to the public use? The question, we see, -insinuates what was before affirmed to be the truth of the -case; that the unrivalled excellence of the Greek poets -proceeded only from long and vigorous exercise, and a -painful uninterrupted application to the arts of verse. -The liberal spirit of that people led them to countenance -every new attempt towards superior literary excellence; -and so, by the public favour, their writings, from rude -essays, became at length the standard and admiration of -succeeding wits. The Romans had treated their adventurers -quite otherwise, and the effect was answerable. -This is the purport of what to a common eye may look -like a <i>digression</i> [from v. 93 to 108], in which is delineated -the very different genius and practice of the two -nations. For the <i>Greeks</i> [to v. 102] had applied themselves, -in the intervals of their leisure from the toils of war, -to the cultivation of every species of elegance, whether -in <i>arts</i>, or <i>letters</i>; and loved to cherish the public emulation, -by affording a free indulgence to the various and -volatile disposition of the times. The activity of these -restless spirits, was incessantly attempting some new and -untryed <i>form</i> of composition; and, when <i>that</i> was brought -to a due degree of perfection, it turned, <i>in good time</i>, to -the cultivation of some <i>other</i>.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Quod cupide petiit, mature plena reliquit.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>So that the very caprice of <i>humour</i> [v. 101] assisted, -in this libertine country, to advance and help forward the -public taste. Such was the effect of <i>peace and opportunity</i> -with them.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Hoc paces habuere bonae ventique secundi.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Whereas the <i>Romans</i> [to v. 108] by a more composed -temperament and saturnine complexion had devoted their -pains to the pursuit of domestic utilities, and a more -dexterous management of the <i>arts of gain</i>. The consequence -of which was, that when [to v. 117] by the -decay of the old frugal spirit, the necessary effect of -overflowing plenty and ease, they began, at length, to -seek out for the elegancies of life; and <i>a fit of versifying</i>, -the first of all liberal amusements, that usually seizes an -idle people, had come upon them; their ignorance of -rules, and want of exercise in the art of writing, rendered -them wholly unfit to succeed in it. So that their -awkward attempts in poetry were now as disgraceful to -their <i>taste</i>, as their total disregard of it, before, had -been to their <i>civility</i>. The root of this mischief was the -idolatrous regard paid to their ancient poets: which unluckily, -when the public emulation was set a going, not only -checked its progress, but gave it a wrong bias; and, -instead of helping true genius to outstrip the lame and -tardy endeavours of ancient wit, drew it aside into a vicious -and unprofitable mimicry of its very imperfections. -Whence it had come to pass, that, whereas in other <i>arts</i>, -the previous knowledge of rules is required to the -practice of them, in this of <i>versifying</i>, no such qualification -was deemed necessary.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Scribimus indocti doctique poemata passim.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This mischance was <i>doubly</i> fatal to the Latin poetry. -For the ill success of these blind adventurers had increased -the original mischief, by confirming, as it needs must, -the superstitious reverence of the old writers; and insensibly -brought, as well the art itself, as the modern professors -of it, into disrepute with the discerning public. -The vindication of <i>both</i>, then, at this critical juncture, -was become highly seasonable; and to this, which was -the poet’s main purpose, he addresses himself through -the remainder of the epistle.</p> - -<p>118 to the end. <span class="smcap">Hic error tamen</span>, &c.] Having -sufficiently obviated the popular and reigning prejudices -against the modern poets, his office of <i>advocate</i> for their -fame, which he had undertaken, and was now to discharge, -in form, required him to set their real merits -and pretensions in a just light. He enters therefore -immediately on this task. And, in drawing the character -of the <i>true poet</i>, endeavours to impress the Emperor -with as advantageous an idea as possible, of the worth -and dignity of his calling. And this, not in the fierce -insulting tone of a zealot for the <i>honour of his order</i>, -which to the <i>great</i> is always disgusting, and where the -occasion is, confessedly, not of the last importance, -plainly absurd; but with that unpretending air of insinuation, -which good sense, improved by a thorough knowledge -of the world, teaches: with that seeming indifference -which disarms prejudice: in a word, with that -gracious <i>smile in his aspect</i>, which his strong admirer -and faint copyer, Persius, so justly noted in him, and -which convinces almost without the help of argument; -or to say it more truly, <i>persuades</i> where it doth not properly -<i>convince</i>. In this disposition he sets out on his -defence; and yet omits no <i>particular</i>, which could any -way serve to the real recommendation of <i>poets</i>, or which -indeed, the gravest or warmest of their friends have ever -pleaded in their behalf. This defence consists [from -v. 118 to 139] in bringing into view their many <i>civil</i>, -<i>moral</i>, and <i>religious</i> virtues. For the muse, as the poet -contends (and nothing could be more likely to conciliate -the esteem of the politic emperor) administers, -in this threefold capacity, to the service of the state.</p> - -<p>But <i>Religion</i>, which was its <i>noblest end</i>, was, besides, the -<i>first object</i> of poetry. The dramatic muse, in particular, -had her birth, and derived her very character, from it. -This circumstance then leads him with advantage, to -give an historical deduction of the rise and progress of the -Latin poesy, from its first rude workings in the days of -barbarous superstition, through every successive period -of its improvement, down to his own times. Such a view -of its descent and gradual reformation was directly to the -poet’s purpose. For having magnified the virtues of his -order, as of such importance to society, the question -naturally occurred, by what unhappy means it had fallen -out, that it was, nevertheless, in such low estimation with -the public. The answer is, that the state of the Latin -poetry, as yet, was very rude and imperfect: and so the -public disregard was occasioned, only, by its not having -attained to that degree of perfection, of which its <i>nature</i> -was capable. Many reasons had concurred to keep the -Latin poetry in this state, which he proceeds to enumerate. -The <i>first and principal</i> was [from v. 139 to 164] -the little attention paid <i>to critical learning, and the cultivation -of a correct and just spirit of composition</i>. Which, -again, had arisen from the coarse illiberal disposition of -the Latin muse, who had been nurtured and brought up -under the roof of rural superstition; and this, by an impure -mixture of licentious jollity, had so corrupted her -very nature, that it was only by slow degrees, and not till -the conquest of Greece had imported arts and learning -into Italy, that she began to chastise her manners, and -assume a juster and more becoming deportment. And -still she was but in the condition of a rustic <i>beauty</i>, when, -practising her aukward airs, and making her first ungracious -essays towards a <i>manner</i>.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i15"><i>in longum tamen aevum</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Manserunt, hodieque manent</i> vestigia ruris.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Her late acquaintance with the Greek models had, indeed, -improved her air, and inspired an inclination to emulate -their noblest graces. But how successfully, we are given -to understand from her unequal attempts in the two sublimer -species of their poetry, the <small>TRAGIC, AND COMIC -DRAMAS</small>.</p> - -<p>1. [from v. 160 to 168] The <i>study of the Greek tragedians</i> -had very naturally, and to good purpose, in the infancy -of their taste, disposed the Latin writers to <i>translation</i>. -Here they stuck long; for their tragedy, even in the -Augustan age, was little else; and yet they succeeded -but indifferently in it. The bold and animated genius of -Rome was, it is readily owned, well suited to this work. -And for force of colouring, and a truly tragic elevation, -the Roman poets came not behind their great originals. -But unfortunately their judgment was unformed, and -they were too soon satisfied with their own productions. -Strength and fire was all they endeavoured after. And -with this praise they sate down perfectly contented. -The discipline of correction, the curious polishing of art, -which had given such a lustre to the Greek tragedians, -they knew nothing of; or, to speak their case more truly, -they held disgraceful to the high spirit and energy of the -Roman genius:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><small>TURPEM PUTAT IN SCRIPTIS METUITQUE LITURAM.</small><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>2. It did not fare better with them [from v. 168 to 175] -in their attempts to rival <i>the Greek comedy</i>. They preposterously -set out with the notion of its being easier to -execute this drama than the tragic: whereas to hit its -genuine character with exactness was, in truth, a point -of much more difficulty. As the <i>subject</i> of comedy was -taken from common life, they supposed an ordinary -degree of care might suffice, to do it justice. No -wonder then, they overlooked or never came up to that -nice adjustment of the <i>manners</i>, that truth and decorum -of <i>character</i>, wherein the glory of comic painting consists, -and which none but the quickest eye can discern, and the -steadiest hand execute; and, in the room, amused us -with <i>high colouring</i>, and <i>false drawing</i>; with <i>extravagant, -aggravated portraitures</i>; which, neglecting the modest -proportion of real life, are the certain arguments of an -unpractised pencil, or vicious taste.</p> - -<p>What contributed to this prostitution of the comic muse, -was [to v. 177] the seducement of that corruptress of all -virtue, <i>the love of money</i>; which had thoroughly infected -the Roman wits, and was, in fact, the sole object of their -pains. Hence, provided they could but catch the applauses -of the people, to which the pleasantry of the -comic scene more especially aspires, and so secure a -good round <i>price</i> from the magistrates, whose office it was -to furnish this kind of entertainment, they became indifferent -to every nobler view and honester purpose. In -particular [to v. 182] they so little considered <i>fame and -the praise of good writing</i>, that they made it the ordinary -topic of their ridicule; representing it as the mere -illusion of vanity, and the pitiable infirmity of <i>lean-witted</i> -minds, to be catched by the lure of so empty and unsubstantial -a benefit.</p> - -<p>Though, were any one, in defiance of public ridicule, -so <i>daring</i> (as there is no occasion in life, which calls for, -or demonstrates a greater firmness), as frankly to avow -and submit himself to this generous <i>motive</i>, the surest -inspirer of every virtuous excellence, yet one thing remained -to check and weaken the vigour of his emulation. -This [from v. 182 to 187] was the folly and ill taste of -the undiscerning multitude; who, in all countries, have -a great share in determining the fate and character of -scenical representations, but, from the popular constitution -of the government, were, at Rome, of the first consequence. -These, by their rude clamours, and the authority -of their numbers, were enough to dishearten the -most intrepid genius; when, after all his endeavours to -reap the glory of an absolute work, the <i>action</i> was almost -sure to be mangled and broken in upon by the -shews of <i>wild beasts and gladiators</i>; those <i>dear delights</i>, -which the Romans, it seems, prized much above the -highest pleasures of the drama.</p> - -<p>Nay, the poet’s case was still more desperate. For it -was not the untutored rabble, as in other countries, that -gave a countenance to these illiberal sports: even <i>rank -and quality</i>, at Rome, debased itself in shewing the -fiercest passion for these <i>shews</i>, and was as ready, as -abject commonalty itself, to prefer the uninstructing -pleasures of the <i>eye</i> to those of the <i>ear</i>.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Equiti</span> <i>quoque jam migravit ab aure voluptas</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Omnis ad ingratos oculos et gaudia vana.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And, because this barbarity of taste had contributed -more than any thing else to deprave the poetry of the -stage, and discourage its best masters from studying its -perfection, what follows [from v. 189 to 207] is intended, -in all the keenness of raillery, to satyrize this madness. -It afforded an ample field for the poet’s ridicule. For, -besides the riotous disorders of their theatre, the senseless -admiration of <i>pomp and spectacle</i> in their plays had so -inchanted his countrymen, that the very decorations of -the scene, the tricks and trappings of the comedians, -were surer to catch the applauses of the gaping multitude, -than any regard to the justness of the poet’s design, or -the beauty of his execution.</p> - -<p>Here the poet should naturally have concluded his <i>defence -of the dramatic writers</i>; having alledged every thing -in their favour, that could be urged, plausibly, from <i>the -state of the Roman stage: the genius of the people: and the -several prevailing practices of ill taste</i>, which had brought -them into disrepute with the best judges. But finding -himself obliged, in the course of this vindication of the -modern <i>stage-poets</i>, to censure as sharply, as their very -enemies, the vices and defects of their <i>poetry</i>; and fearing -lest this severity on a sort of writing, to which himself -had never pretended, might be misinterpreted as the -effect of envy only, and a malignant disposition towards -the art itself, under cover of pleading for its <i>professors</i>, -he therefore frankly avows [from v. 208 to 214] his preference -of the <i>dramatic</i>, to every other species of poetry; -declaring the sovereignty of its pathos over the <i>affections</i>, -and the magic of its illusive scenery on the <i>Imagination</i>, -to be the highest argument of poetic excellence, the last -and noblest exercise of the human genius.</p> - -<p>One thing still remained. He had taken upon himself -to apologize for the Roman poets, in <i>general</i>; as may be -seen from the large terms, in which he proposes his -subject.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Hic error tamen et levis haec insania quantas</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Virtutes habeat, sic collige.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But, after a general encomium on the <i>office</i> itself, he -confines his defence to the <i>writers for the stage</i> only. In -conclusion then, he was constrained, by the very purpose -of his address, to say a word or two in behalf of the -remainder of this neglected family; of those, who, as -the poet expresses it, had <i>rather trust to the equity of the -closet, than subject themselves to the caprice and insolence -of the theatre</i>.</p> - -<p>Now, as before, in asserting the honour of the stage-poets -he every where supposes the emperor’s <i>disgust</i> to -have sprung from the wrong conduct of the poets themselves, -and then extenuates the blame of such <i>conduct</i>, -by considering, still further, the <i>causes</i> which gave rise -to it; so he prudently observes the like method here. -The politeness of his address concedes to Augustus, the -just <i>offence</i> he had taken to his brother poets; whose honour, -however, he contrives to save by softening the <i>occasions</i> -of it. This is the drift of what follows [from v. -214 to 229] where he pleasantly recounts the several -foibles and indiscretions of the muse; but in a way, that -could only dispose the emperor to smile at, or at most, -to pity her infirmities, not provoke his serious censure -and disesteem. They amount, on the whole, but to -certain idlenesses of <i>vanity</i>, the almost inseparable attendant -of <i>wit</i>, as well as <i>beauty</i>; and may be forgiven in -<i>each</i>, as implying a strong <i>desire</i> of pleasing, or rather as -<i>qualifying</i> both to please. One of the most exceptionable -of these <i>vanities</i> was a fond persuasion, too readily -taken up by men of parts and genius, that <i>preferment is -the constant pay of merit</i>; and that, from the moment -their talents become known to the public, distinction and -advancement are sure to follow. They believed, in short, -they had only to convince the world of their superior -abilities, to deserve the favour and countenance of their -prince. But fond and presumptuous as these hopes are -(continues the poet [from v. 229 to 244] with all the insinuation -of a courtier, and yet with a becoming sense of -the dignity of his own character) it may deserve a serious -consideration, what poets are fit to be entrusted with -the glory of princes; what <i>ministers</i> are worth retaining -in the service of an illustrious <span class="smcap">Virtue</span>, whose honours -demand to be solemnized with a religious reverence, and -should not be left to the profanation of vile, unhallowed -hands. And, to support the authority of this remonstrance, -he alledges the example of a great Monarch, -who had dishonoured himself by a neglect of this care; -of <span class="smcap">Alexander the great</span>, who, when master of the -world, as Augustus now was, perceived, indeed, the -importance of gaining a poet to his service; but unluckily -chose so ill, that his encomiums (as must ever be -the case with a vile panegyrist) but tarnished the native -splendor of those virtues, which his office required him -to present, in their fullest and fairest glory, to the admiration -of the world. In his appointment of <i>artists</i>, -whose skill is, also, highly serviceable to the fame of princes, -he shewed a truer judgment. For he suffered none -but an <span class="smcap">Apelles</span> and a <span class="smcap">Lysippus</span> to counterfeit the form -and fashion of his <i>person</i>. But his <i>taste</i>, which was thus -exact and even <i>subtile</i> in what concerned the mechanic -execution of the <i>fine arts</i>, took up with a <span class="smcap">Choerilus</span>, to -transmit an image of his <i>mind</i> to future ages; so grosly -undiscerning was he in works of poetry, and the liberal -<i>offerings of the muse</i>!</p> - -<p>And thus the poet makes a double use of the illjudgment -of this imperial critic. For nothing could better demonstrate -the importance of <i>poetry</i> to the honour of <i>greatness</i>, -than that this illustrious conqueror, without any particular -knowledge or discernment in the <i>art</i> itself, should think -himself concerned to court its assistance. And, then, -what could be more likely to engage the emperor’s further -protection and love of <i>poetry</i>, than the insinuation -(which is made with infinite address) that, as he honoured -it equally, so he understood its merits much better? For -[from v. 245 to 248, where, by a beautiful concurrence, -the flattery of his prince falls in with the honester purpose -of doing justice to the memory of his friends] it was -not the same unintelligent liberality, which had cherished -Choerilus, that poured the full stream of Caesar’s bounty -on such persons, as <span class="smcap">Varius</span> and <span class="smcap">Virgil</span>. And, as if the -spirit of these inimitable poets had, at once, seized him, -he breaks away in a bolder run of verse [from v. 248 to -250] <i>to sing the triumphs of an art</i>, which expressed the -<i>manners and the mind</i> in fuller and more durable <i>relief</i>, -than painting or even sculpture had ever been able to -give to the external <i>figure</i>: And [from v. 250 to the end] -<i>apologizes for himself</i> in adopting the humbler epistolary -<i>species</i>, when a warmth of inclination and the unrivaled -glories of his prince were continually urging him on to -the nobler, <i>encomiastic</i> poetry. His excuse, in brief, is -taken from the conscious inferiority of his genius, and a -tenderness for the fame of the emperor, which is never -more disserved than by the officious sedulity of bad poets -to do it honour. And with this apology, one while condescending -to the unfeigned humility of a person, sensible -of the <i>kind and measure</i> of his abilities, and then, -again, sustaining itself by a freedom and even familiarity, -which real merit knows, on certain occasions, to take -without offence, the epistle concludes.</p> - -<p>If the general opinion may be trusted, this, which -was one of the <i>last</i>, is also among the <i>noblest</i>, of the great -poet’s compositions. Perhaps, the reader, who considers -it in the plain and simple order, to which the foregoing -analysis hath reduced it, may satisfy himself, that -this praise hath not been undeservedly bestowed. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">322</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">323</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">324</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">325</span></p> - -<h2>NOTES<br /> - -<span class="medium">ON THE</span><br /> - -EPISTLE TO AUGUSTUS.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Epistola ad Augustum.</span>] The epistle to <span class="smcap">Augustus</span> -is <i>an apology for the Roman poets</i>. The -epistle to the <span class="smcap">Pisos</span>, <i>a criticism on their poetry</i>. -<i>This</i> to Augustus may be therefore considered as a -sequel of <i>that</i> to the Pisos; and which could not -well be omitted; for the author’s design of forwarding -the study and improvement of the <i>art of poetry</i> -required him to bespeak the public favour to its -<i>professors</i>.</p> - -<p>But as, <i>there</i>, in correcting the abuses of their -poetry, he mixes, occasionally, some encomiums -on <i>poets</i>; so, <i>here</i>, in pleading the cause of the -poets, we find him interweaving instructions on -<i>poetry</i>. Which was but according to the writer’s -<i>occasions</i> in each work. For the freedom of his -censure on the <i>art of poetry</i> was to be softened by -some expressions of his good-will towards the poets; -and this apology for their <i>fame</i> had been too direct -and unmanaged, but for the qualifying appearance -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">326</span> -of its intending the further benefit of the <i>art</i>. The -coincidence, then, of the same general <i>method</i>, as -well as <i>design</i>, in the two epistles, made it not improper -to give them together, and on the same footing, -to the public. Though both the <i>subject</i> and -<i>method</i> of this last are so clear as to make a continued -commentary upon it much less wanted.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>4. <span class="smcap">Si longo sermone morer tua tempora, -Caesar.</span>] The poet is thought to begin with apologizing -for the <i>shortness of this epistle</i>. And yet -’tis one of the longest he ever wrote. How is this -inconsistency to be reconciled? “Horace parle -pêutêtre ainsi pour ne pas rebuter Auguste, et -pour lui faire connôitre, qu’il auroit fait une lettre, -beaucoup plus longue, s’il avoit suivi son inclination.” -This is the best account of the matter we -have, hitherto, been able to come at. But the familiar -civility of such a compliment, as M. Dacier -supposes, though it might be well enough to an -<i>equal</i>, or, if dressed up in spruce phrases, might -make a figure in the <i>lettres familieres et galantes</i> -of his own nation; yet is surely of a cast, entirely -foreign to the Roman gravity, more especially in an -address to the emperor of the world. Mr. Pope, -perceiving the absurdity of the common interpretation, -seems to have read the lines <i>interrogatively</i>; -which though it saves the sense, and suits the purpose -of the English poet very well, yet neither -agrees with the language nor serious air of the original. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">327</span> -The case, I believe, was this. The genius -of epistolary writing demands, that the subject-matter -be not abruptly delivered, or hastily obtruded -on the person addressed; but, as the law of decorum -prescribes (for the rule holds in <i>writing</i>, as in <i>conversation</i>) -be gradually and respectfully introduced -to him. This obtains more particularly in applications -to the <i>great</i>, and on important subjects. But, -now, the poet, being to address his prince on a -point of no small delicacy, and on which he foresaw -he should have occasion to hold him pretty long, -prudently contrives to get, as soon as possible, into -his subject; and, to that end, hath the art to convert -the very transgression of this rule into the justest -and most beautiful compliment.</p> - -<p>That cautious preparation, which is ordinarily -requisite in our approaches to <i>greatness</i>, had been, -the poet observes, in the present case, highly unseasonable, -as the business and interests of the empire -must, in the mean time, have stood still and -been suspended. By <i>sermone</i> then we are to understand, -not the <i>body</i> of the epistle, but the proeme -or <i>introduction</i> only. The <i>body</i>, as of public concern, -might be allowed to engage, at full length, -the emperor’s attention. But the <i>introduction</i>, -consisting of <i>ceremonial</i> only, the <i>common good</i> -required him to shorten as much as possible. It -was no time for using an insignificant preamble, or, -in our English phrase, of making <i>long speeches</i>. -The reason, too, is founded, not merely in the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">328</span> -elevated rank of the emperor, but in the peculiar -diligence and sollicitude, with which, history tells -us, he endeavoured to promote, by various ways, -the interests of his country. So that the compliment -is as <i>just</i>, as it is <i>polite</i>. It may be further -observed, that <i>sermo</i> is used in Horace, to signify -the ordinary style of conversation [See Sat. i. 3, 65, -and iv. 42.] and therefore not improperly denotes -the familiarity of the epistolary address, which, in -its easy expression, so nearly approaches to it.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>13. <span class="smcap">Urit enim fulgore suo, qui praegravat -artes Infra se positas: extinctus amabitur -idem.</span>] The poet, we may suppose, spoke this -from experience. And so might <i>another</i> of later -date when he complained:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Unhappy Wit, like most mistaken things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Attones not for that envy which it brings.<br /></span> -<span class="author"><i>Essay on Crit.</i> v. 494.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Unless it be thought, that, as this was said by him -very early in life, it might rather pass for a prediction -of his future fortunes. Be this as it will, the -sufferings, which <i>unhappy wit</i> is conceived to bring -on itself from the <i>envy</i> it excites, are, I am apt to -think, somewhat aggravated; at least if one may -judge from the effects it had on this <i>Complainant</i>. -That which would be likely to afflict him most, was -the <i>envy</i> of his friends. But the generosity of these -deserves to be recorded. The <i>wits</i> took no offence -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">329</span> -at his fame, till they found it eclipse their <i>own</i>: -And his <i>Philosopher and Guide</i>, ’tis well known, -stuck close to him, till another and brighter star -had gotten the ascendant. Or supposing there -might be some malice in the case, it is plain there -was little mischief. And for this little the poet’s -creed provides an ample recompence. <span class="smcap">Extinctus -amabitur idem</span>: not, we may be sure, by <i>those</i> -he most improved, enlightened, and obliged; but -by late impartial posterity; and by <small>ONE</small> at least of -his surviving friends; who generously took upon -him the patronage of his fame, and who inherits his -genius and his virtues.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>14. <span class="smcap">Extinctus amabitur idem.</span>] <i>Envy</i>, says a -discerning ancient, <i>is the vice of those, who are too -weak to contend, and too proud to submit</i>: <i>vitium -eorum, qui nec cedere volunt, nec possunt contendere</i><a id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">33</a>. -Which, while it sufficiently exposes the -folly and malignity of this hateful passion, secures -the honour of human nature; as implying at the -same time, that its worst corruptions are not without -a mixture of generosity in them. For this false -pride in <i>refusing to submit</i>, though absurd and mischievous -enough, when unsupported by all <i>ability -to contend</i>, yet discovers such a sense of superior -excellence, as shews, how difficult it is for human -nature to divest itself of all virtue. Accordingly, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">330</span> -when the too powerful <i>splendor</i> is withdrawn, our -natural veneration of it takes place: <i>Extinctus amabitur -idem.</i> This is the true exposition of the poet’s -sentiment; which therefore appears just the reverse -of what his French interpreter would fix upon him. -“La justice, que nous rendons aux grands hommes -après leur mort, ne vient pas de l’<small>AMOUR</small>, que -nous avons pour leur <i>vertu</i>, mais de la <small>HAINE</small>, -dont notre cœur est rempli pour ceux, qui ont -pris leur <small>PLACE</small>.” An observation, which only -becomes the misanthropy of an old cynic virtue, or -the selfishness of a modern system of ethics.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>15. <span class="smcap">Praesenti tibi maturos</span>, &c. to v. 18.] -We are not to wonder at this and the like extravagances -of adulation in the Augustan poets. They had -ample authority for what they did of this sort. We -know, that altars were erected to the Emperor by -the command of the Senate; and that he was publicly -invoked, as an established, tutelary divinity. -But the seeds of the corruption had been sown much -earlier. For we find it sprung up, or rather (as of -all the ill weeds, which the teeming soil of human -depravity throws forth, none is more thriving and -grows faster than this of <i>flattery</i>) flourishing at its -height, in the tyranny of <span class="smcap">J. Caesar</span>. Balbus, in -a letter to Cicero [Ep. ad Att. l. ix.] <i>Swears by the -health and safety of Caesar</i>: <i>ità, incolumi Caesare, -moriar</i>. And Dio tells us [L. xliv.] that it was, -by the express injunction of the Senate, decreed, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">331</span> -even in Caesar’s life-time, that the Romans should -bind themselves by this oath. The Senate also, -as we learn from the same writer, [L. xliii.] -upon receiving the news of his defeat of Pompey’s -sons, caused his statue to be set up, in the temple of -Romulus, with this inscription, <small>DEO INVICTO</small><a id="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">34</a>.</p> - -<p>’Tis true, these and still greater honours had been -long paid to the Roman governors in their provinces, -by the <i>abject, slavish Asiatics</i>. And this, no -doubt, facilitated the admission of such idolatries -into the capital<a id="FNanchor_35" href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">35</a>. But that a people, from the -highest notions of an independent republican equality, -could so soon be brought to this prostrate -adoration of their first <i>Lord</i>, is perfectly amazing! -In this, they shewed themselves ripe for servitude. -Nothing could keep them out of the hands of a -master. And one can scarcely read such accounts, -as these, without condemning the vain efforts of -dying patriotism, which laboured so fruitlesly, may -one not almost say, so weakly? to protract the liberty -of such a people, Who can, after this, wonder -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">332</span> -at the incense, offered up by a few court-poets? -The adulation of Virgil, which has given so much -offence, and of Horace, who kept pace with him, -was, we see, but the authorized language of the -times; presented indeed with address, but without -the heightenings and privileged licence of their profession. -For, to their credit, it must be owned, -that, though in the office of <i>poets</i>, they were to -comply with the popular voice, and echo it back to -the ears of sovereignty; yet, as <i>men</i>, they had too -much good sense, and too scrupulous a regard to the -dignity of their characters, to exaggerate and go -beyond it.</p> - -<p>It should, in all reason, surprize and disgust us -still more, that modern writers have not always -shewn themselves so discrete. The grave and learned -<span class="smcap">Lipsius</span> was not ashamed, even without the convenient -pretext of popular flattery, or poetic <i>coloring</i>, -in so many words, to make a God of his patron: -who though neither King, nor Pope, was yet the -next best material for this manufacture, an Archbishop. -For, though the critic knew, that it was -<i>not every wood, that will make a Mercury</i>, yet no -body would dispute the fitness of that, which grew -so near the altar. In plain words, I am speaking of -an Archbishop of <span class="smcap">Mechlin</span>, whom, after a deal of -fulsome compliment (which was the vice of the man) -he exalts at last, with a pagan complaisance, into the -order of Deities. “Ad haec, says he, erga omnes -humanitas et facilitas me faciunt, ut omnes te -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">333</span> -non tanquàm hominem aliquem de nostro coetu, -sed tanquam <span class="smcap">Deum quendam de coelo delapsum -intueantur et admirentur</span>.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>16. <span class="smcap">Jurandasque tuum per numen ponimus -aras.</span>] On this idea of the <small>APOTHEOSIS</small>, which was -the usual mode of flattery in the Augustan age, but, -as having the countenance of public authority, -sometimes inartificially enough employed, Virgil -hath projected one of the noblest allegories in ancient -poetry, and at the same time hath given to it all the -force of <i>just</i> compliment, the <i>occasion</i> itself allowed. -<i>Each</i> of these excellencies was to be expected from -his talents. For, as his genius led him to the <i>sublime</i>; -to his exquisite judgment would instruct him to -palliate this bold fiction, and qualify, as much as -possible, the shocking adulation, implied in it. So -singular a beauty deserves to be shewn at large.</p> - -<p>The <i>third</i> <span class="smcap">Georgic</span> sets out with an apology for -the low and simple argument of that work, which, -yet, the poet esteemed, for its novelty, preferable -to the sublimer, but trite, themes of the Greek -writers. Not but he intended, on some future occasion, -to adorn a nobler subject. This was the great -plan of the Aeneïs, which he now <i>prefigures</i> and -unfolds at large. For, taking advantage of the -noblest privilege of his <i>art</i>, he breaks away, in a fit -of <i>prophetic</i> enthusiasm, to foretel his successes in -this projected enterprize, and, under the imagery -of the ancient <i>triumph</i>, which comprehends, or -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">334</span> -suggests to the imagination, whatever is most august -in human affairs, to delineate the future glories of -this ambitious design. The whole conception, as -we shall see, is of the utmost grandeur and magnificence; -though, according to the usual management -of the poet (which, as not being apprehended by -his critics, hath furnished occasion, even to the best -of them, to charge him with a want of the <i>sublime</i>) -he hath contrived to soften and <i>familiarize</i> its -appearance to the reader, by the artful manner, in -which it is introduced. It stands thus:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8"><i>tentanda via est, qua me quoque possim</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Tollere humo</i>, <small>VICTORQUE</small> <i>virûm volitare per ora</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This idea of <i>victory</i>, thus casually dropped, he -makes the basis of his imagery; which, by means -of this gradual preparation, offers itself easily to the -apprehension, though it thereby loses, as the poet -designed it should, much of that broad <i>glare</i>, in -which writers of less judgment love to shew their -ideas, as tending to set the common reader to a gaze. -The allegory then proceeds:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Primus ego patriam mecum (modo vita supersit)</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Aonio rediens deducam vertice Musas</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The projected conquest was no less than that of all -the <i>Grecian Muses</i> at once; whom, to carry on the -decorum of the allegory, he threatens, 1. to force -from their high and advantageous situation on the -summit of the <i>Aonian mount</i>; and, 2. bring <i>captive</i> -with him into Italy: the <i>former</i> circumstance -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">335</span> -intimating to us the difficulty and danger of the enterprize; -and the <i>latter</i>, his complete execution -of it.</p> - -<p>The <i>palmy</i>, triumphal entry, which was usual -to victors on their return from foreign successes, -follows:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Primus Idumaeas referam tibi, Mantua, palmas</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But ancient conquerors did not hold it sufficient to -reap this transient fruit of their labours. They were -ambitious to consecrate their glory to immortality, -by a <i>temple</i>, or other public monument, which was -to be built out of the spoils of the conquered cities or -countries. This the reader sees is suitable to the -idea of the great work proposed; which was, out of -the old remains of Grecian art, to compose a <i>new</i> one, -that should comprize the virtues of them all: as, in -fact, the Aeneïd is known to unite in itself whatever -is most excellent, not in Homer only, but, universally, -in the wits of Greece. The everlasting monument -of the <i>marble</i> temple is then reared:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Et viridi in campo templum de</i> <small>MARMORE</small> <i>ponam</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And, because ancient superstition usually preferred, -for these purposes, the banks of <i>rivers</i> to other situations, -therefore the poet, in beautiful allusion to the -site of some of the most celebrated pagan temples, -builds <i>his</i> on the <span class="smcap">Mincius</span>. We see with what a -scrupulous propriety the allusion is carried on.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Propter aquam, tardis ingens ubi flexibus errat</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Mincius</span>, <i>et tenera praetexit arundine ripas</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">336</span></p> - -<p>Next, this temple was to be dedicated, as a monument -of the victor’s <i>piety</i>, as well as glory, to some -propitious, tutelary deity, under whose auspices the -great adventure had been atchieved. The <i>dedication</i> -is then made to the poet’s <i>divinity</i>, Augustus:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>In medio mihi</i> <span class="smcap">Caesar</span> <i>erit, templumque tenebit</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Templum tenebit.</span> The expression is emphatical; -as intimating to us, and prefiguring the secret purpose -of the Aeneïs, which was, in the person of -Aeneas, to shadow forth and consecrate the character -of Augustus. His divinity was to fill and -<i>occupy</i> that great work. And the ample circuit of -the epic plan was projected only, as a more awful -enclosure of that august presence, which was to -<i>inhabit</i> and solemnize the vast round of this poetic -building.</p> - -<p>And now the wonderful address of the poet’s artifice -appears. The mad servility of his country had -<i>deified</i> the emperor in good earnest; and his brother -poets made no scruple to <i>worship</i> in his temples, -and to come before him with handfuls of <i>real</i> incense, -smoking from the altars. But the sobriety of -Virgil’s adoration was of another cast. He seizes -this circumstance only to <i>embody</i> a poetical fiction; -which, on the supposition of an actual <i>deification</i>, -hath all the force of compliment, which the <i>fact</i> -implies, and yet, as presented through the chast veil -of allegory, eludes the offence, which the <i>naked</i> recital -must needs have given to sober and reasonable -men. Had the emperor’s <i>popular</i> divinity been -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">337</span> -flatly acknowledged, and adored, the praise, even -under Virgil’s management, had been insufferable for -its extravagance; and, without some support for his -poetical <i>numen</i> to rest upon, the figure had been -more forced and strained, than the rules of just writing -allow. As it is, the historical truth of his <i>apotheosis</i> -authorizes and supports the <i>fiction</i>, and the fiction, -in its turn, serves to refine and palliate the <i>history</i>.</p> - -<p>The Aeneïs being, by the poet’s improvement of -this circumstance, thus naturally predicted under -the image of a <i>temple</i>, we may expect to find a close -and studied analogy betwixt them. The great, component -parts of the <i>one</i> will, no doubt, be made, -very faithfully, to represent and adumbrate those of -the <i>other</i>. This hath been executed with great art -and diligence.</p> - -<p>1. The <i>temple</i>, we observed, was erected on the -banks of a river. This site was not only proper, for -the reason already mentioned, but also, for the further -convenience of instituting <i>public games</i>, the ordinary -attendants of the <i>consecration</i> of temples. -These were generally, as in the case of the Olympic -and others, celebrated on the banks of rivers.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Illi victor ego, et Tyrio conspectus in ostro,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Centum quadrijugos agitabo ad flumina currus.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Cuncta mihi, Alpheum linquens lucosque Molorchi,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Cursibus et crudo decernet Graecia caestu.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>To see the propriety of the <i>figure</i> in this place, the -reader needs only be reminded of the <i>book of games</i> -in the Aeneïd, which was purposely introduced in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">338</span> -honour of the Emperor, and not, as is commonly -thought, for a mere trial of skill between the poet -and his master. The emperor was passionately fond -of these sports, and was even the author, or restorer, -of <i>one</i> of them. It is not to be doubted, that he alludes -also to the <i>quinquennial games</i>, actually celebrated, -in honour of his temples, through many -parts of the empire. And this the poet undertakes -in the <i>civil</i> office of <small>VICTOR</small>.</p> - -<p>2. What follows is in the <i>religious</i> office of -<span class="smcap">Priest</span>. For it is to be noted, that, in assuming -this double character, which the decorum of the solemnities, -here recounted, prescribed, the poet has -an eye to the <i>political</i> design of the Aeneïs, which -was to do honour to Caesar, in either capacity of a -<i>civil</i> and <i>religious</i> personage; both being essential -to the idea of the <small>PERFECT LEGISLATOR</small>, whose office -and character (as an eminent critic hath lately shewn -us<a id="FNanchor_36" href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">36</a>) it was his purpose, in this immortal work, to -adorn and recommend. The account of his <i>sacerdotal -functions</i> is delivered in these words:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Ipse caput tonsae foliis ornatus olivae</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Dona feram. Jam, nunc solemnes ducere pompas</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Ad delubra juvat, caesosque videre juvencos;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Vel scena ut versis discedat frontibus, utque</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Purpurea intexti tollant aulaea Britanni.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The imagery in this place cannot be understood, -without reflecting on the customary form and disposition -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">339</span> -of the pagan temples. <span class="smcap">Delubrum</span>, or <span class="smcap">Delubra</span>, -for either <i>number</i> is used indifferently, denotes -the shrine, or sanctuary, wherein the statue -of the presiding God was placed. This was in the -center of the building. Exactly before the <i>delubrum</i>, -and at no great distance from it, was the <small>ALTAR</small>. -Further, the shrine, or <i>delubrum</i>, was inclosed and -shut up on all sides by <i>doors</i> of curious carved-work, -and ductile <i>veils</i>, embellished by the rich embroidery -of <i>flowers</i>, <i>animals</i>, or <i>human figures</i>. This -being observed, the progress of the imagery before -us will be this. The procession <i>ad delubra</i>, or -shrine: the sacrifice on the <i>altars</i>, erected before it; -and lastly, the painted, or rather wrought <i>scenery</i> of -the purple <i>veils</i>, inclosing the image, which were -ornamented, and seemed to be sustained or held up -by the figures of <i>inwoven Britons</i>. The meaning -of all which, is, that the poet would proceed to the -celebration of Caesar’s praise in all the gradual, solemn -preparation of poetic pomp: that he would -render the most grateful <i>offerings</i> to his divinity in -those occasional <i>episodes</i>, which he should consecrate -to his more immediate honour: and, finally, -that he would provide the richest texture of his fancy, -for a covering to that admired <i>image</i> of his virtues, -which was to make the sovereign pride and glory -of his poem. The choice of the <i>inwoven Britons</i>, -for the support of his <i>veil</i>, is well accounted for by -those, who tell us, that Augustus was proud to have -a number of these to serve about him in quality of -slaves. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">340</span></p> - -<p>The ornaments of the <small>DOORS</small> of this <i>delubrum</i>, on -which the sculptor used to lavish all the riches of his -<i>art</i>, are next delineated.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>In foribus pugnam ex auro solidoque elephanto</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Gangaridum faciam, victorisque arma Quirini;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Atque hic undantem bello, magnumque fluentem</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Nilum, ac navali surgentes aere columnas.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Addam urbes Asiae domitas, pulsumque Niphatem,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Fidentemque fugâ Parthum versisque sagittis;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Et duo rapta manu diverso ex hoste trophaea,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Bisque triumphatas utroque ex littore gentes.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Here the covering of the <i>figure</i> is too thin to hide the -<i>literal</i> meaning from the commonest reader, who -sees, that the several triumphs of Caesar, here recorded -in <i>sculpture</i>, are those, which the poet hath -taken most pains to <i>finish</i>, and hath occasionally inserted, -as it were, in <i>miniature</i>, in several places of -his <i>poem</i>. Let him only turn to the prophetic speech -of Anchises’ shade in the <small>VI</small><sup>th</sup>, and to the description -of the shield in the <small>VIII</small><sup>th</sup> book.</p> - -<p>Hitherto we have contemplated the decorations -of the <i>shrine</i>, i. e. such as bear a more direct and -immediate reference to the honour of Caesar. We -are now presented with a view of the remoter, surrounding -ornaments of the temple. These are the -illustrious Trojan chiefs, whose story was to furnish -the materials, or, more properly, to form the body -and <i>case</i>, as it were, of his august structure. They -are also connected with the idol deity of the place by -the closest ties of relationship, the Julian family -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">341</span> -affecting to derive its pedigree from this proud original. -The poet then, in his arrangement of these -additional figures, with admirable judgment, completes -and rounds the entire fiction.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Stabunt et Parii lapides, spirantia signa,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Assaraci proles, demissaeque ab Jove gentis</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Nomina: Trosque parens et Trojae Cynthius auctor.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Nothing now remains but for <i>fame</i> to eternize the -glories of what the great architect had, at the -expence of so much art and labour, completed; -which is predicted in the highest sublime of ancient -poetry, under the idea of <small>ENVY</small>, whom the poet -personalizes, shuddering at the view of such transcendent -perfection; and tasting, beforehand, the -pains of a remediless vexation, strongly pictured in -the image of the worst, infernal tortures.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Invidia</span> <i>infelix furias amnemque severum</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Cocyti metuet, tortosque Ixionis angues,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Immanemque rotam, et non exuperabile saxum</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Thus have I presumed, but with a religious awe, -to inspect and declare the mysteries of this ideal -temple. The attempt after all might have been -censured, as prophane, if the great <i>Mystagogue</i> -himself, or some body for him<a id="FNanchor_37" href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">37</a>, had not given us -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">342</span> -the undoubted key to it. Under this encouragement -I could not withstand the temptation of disclosing -thus much of one of the noblest fictions of antiquity; -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">343</span> -and the rather, as the propriety of allegoric composition, -which made the distinguished pride of ancient -poetry, seems but little known or attended to by the -<i>modern</i> professors of this fine art. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_344">344</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>17. <span class="smcap">Nil oriturum alias, nil ortum tale fatentes.</span>] -<i>Il n’est impossible</i>, says M. <span class="smcap">de Balzac</span>, in -that puffed, declamatory rhapsody, intitled, <span class="smcap">Le</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_345">345</span> -<span class="smcap">Prince</span>, <i>de resister au mouvement interieur, qui me -pousse. Je ne sçaurois m’empecher de parler du</i> -<span class="smcap">Roy</span>, <i>et de sa vertu; de crier à tous les princes, -que c’est l’exemple, qu’ils doivent suivre</i>; <small>DE -DEMANDER A TOUS LES PEUPLES, ET A TOUS LES AGES, -S’ILS ONT JAMAIS RIEN VEU DE SEMBLABLE</small>. This -was spoken of a king of France, who, it will be -owned, had his virtues. But they were the virtues -of the <i>man</i>, and not of the <i>Prince</i>. This, however, -was a distinction, which the eloquent encomiast was -not aware of, or, to speak more truly, his business -required him to overlook. For the whole elogy is -worth perusing, as it affords a striking proof of the -uniform genius of flattery, which, alike under all -circumstances, and indifferent to all characters, can -hold the same language of the weakest, as the ablest -of princes, of <span class="smcap">Louis le juste</span>, and <span class="smcap">Caesar Octavianus -Augustus</span>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">346</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>23. <span class="smcap">Sic fautor veterum</span>, &c. to v. 28.] The -folly, here satyrized, is common enough in all -countries, and extends to all arts. It was just the -same preposterous affectation of venerating antiquity, -which put the connoisseurs in <i>painting</i>, under the -emperors, on crying up the simple and rude sketches -of <span class="smcap">Aglaophon</span> and <span class="smcap">Polygnotus</span>, above the exquisite -and finished pictures of <span class="smcap">Parrhasius</span> and <span class="smcap">Zeuxis</span>. -The account is given by Quintilian, who in his censure -of this absurdity, points to the undoubted source -of it. His words are these: “Primi, quorum -quidem opera non vetustatis modò gratiâ visenda -sunt, clari pictores fuisse dicuntur Polygnotus et -Aglaophon; quorum simplex color tam sui studiosos -adhuc habet, ut illa propè rudia ac velut -futurae mox artis primordia, maximis, qui post -eos extiterunt, auctoribus praeferantur, <small>PROPRIO -QUODAM INTELLIGENDI</small> (ut mea fert opinio) <small>AMBITU</small>.” -[L. xii. c. 10.] The lover of painting must -be the more surprized at this strange <i>preference</i>, -when he is told, that Aglaophon, at least, had the -use of only <i>one single colour</i>: whereas Parrhasius -and Zeuxis, who are amongst the <i>maximi autores</i>, -here glanced at, not only employed <i>different colours</i>, -but were exceedingly eminent, the one of them for -<i>correct drawing, and the delicacy of his outline</i>; the -<i>other</i>, for his <i>invention</i> of that great secret of the -<i>chiaro oscuro</i>. “Post Zeuxis et Parrhasius: quorum -prior <small>LUMINUM UMBRARUMQUE INVENISSE RATIONEM</small>, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">347</span> -secundus, <small>EXAMINASSE SUBTILIUS LINEAS -DICITUR</small>.” [Ibid.]</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>28. <span class="smcap">Si, quia Graiorum sunt antiquissima -quaeque scripta</span> vel <small>OPTIMA</small>, &c.] The common -interpretation of this place supposes the poet to -admit <i>the most ancient of the Greek writings to be -the best</i>. Which were even contrary to all experience -and common sense, and is directly confuted -by the history of the Greek learning. What he allows -is, the <i>superiority</i> of the oldest Greek writings -<i>extant</i>; which is a very different thing. The turn -of his argument confines us to this sense. For he -would shew the folly of concluding the same of the -<i>old Roman</i> writers, on their <i>first</i> rude attempts to -copy the finished models of Greece, as of the <i>old -Greek writers</i> themselves, who were furnished with -the means of producing those <i>models</i> by long discipline -and cultivation. This appears, certainly, from -what follows:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Venimus ad summum fortunae: pingimus atque</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Psallimus et luctamur Achivis doctius unctis</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The design of which hath been entirely overlooked. -For it hath been taken only for a <i>general expression</i> -of falsehood and absurdity, of just the same import, -as the proverbial line,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Nil intra est oleâ, nil extra est in nuce duri</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Whereas it was <i>designedly</i> pitched upon to convey -a <i>particular illustration</i> of the very absurdity in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_348">348</span> -question, and to shew the maintainers of it, from the -nature of things, how senseless their position was. -It is to this purpose: “As well it may be pretended, -that we <i>Romans</i> surpass the <i>Greeks</i> in the arts of -<i>painting, music, and the exercises of the palaestra</i>, -which yet it is confessed, we do not, as that our -<i>old</i> writers surpass the <i>modern</i>. The absurdity, -in either case, is the same. For, as the Greeks, -who had long devoted themselves, with great and -continued application, to the practice of these arts -(which is the force of the epithet <small>UNCTI</small>, here given -them) must, for that reason, carry the prize from -the Romans, who have taken very little pains about -them; so, the modern Romans, who have for a -long time been studying the <i>arts of poetry and composition</i>, -must needs excel the old Roman writers, -who had little or no acquaintance with those arts, -and had been trained, by no previous discipline, to -the exercise of them.”</p> - -<p>The conciseness of the expression made it necessary -to open the poet’s sense at large. We now see, -that his intention, in these two lines, was to expose, -in the way of <i>argumentative illustration</i>, the ground -of that absurdity, which the preceding verses had -represented as, at first sight, so shocking to <i>common -sense</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>33. <span class="smcap">Unctis.</span>] This is by no means a general -unmeaning epithet: but is beautifully chosen to -express the unwearied <i>assiduity</i> of the Greek artists. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_349">349</span> -For the practice of <i>anointing</i> being essential to their -agonistic trials, the poet elegantly puts the attending -<i>circumstance</i> for the <i>thing</i> itself. And so, in speaking -of them, as <small>UNCTI</small>, he does the same, as if he had -called them “the industrious, or <i>exercising</i> Greeks;” -which was the very idea his argument required him -to suggest to us.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>43.—<span class="smcap">Honeste.</span>] Expressing the <i>credit</i> such a -piece was held in, as had the fortune to be ranked -<i>inter veteres</i>, agreeably to what he said above—<small>PERFECTOS</small> -<i>veteresque</i> v. 37—and—<i>vetus atque</i> -<small>PROBUS</small> v. 39: which affords a fresh presumption in -favour of Dr. Bentley’s conjecture on v. 41, where, -instead of <i>veteres poetas</i>, he would read,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Inter quos referendus erit? veteresne</i> <small>PROBOSQUE</small>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>An quos &c.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>54. <span class="smcap">Adeo sanctum est vetus omne poema.</span>] -The reader is not to suppose, that Horace, in this -ridicule of the foolish adorers of antiquity, intended -any contempt of the old Roman poets, who, as the old -writers in every country, abound in strong sense, -vigorous expression, and the truest representation -of life and manners. His quarrel is only with the -critic:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Qui redit in fastos et virtutem aestimat annis.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>An affectation, which for its <i>folly</i>, if it had not too -apparently sprung from a worse principle, deserved -to be laughed at. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_350">350</span></p> - -<p>For the rest, he every where discovers a candid -and just esteem of their earlier writers; as may be -seen from many places in this very epistle; but more -especially from that severe censure in 1 S. x. 17. -(which hath more of acrimony in it, than he usually -allows to his satyr) when, in speaking of the writers -of the old comedy, he adds,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><i>Quos neque pulcher</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Hermogenes unquam legit, neque simius iste</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Nil praeter Calvum et doctus cantare Catullum.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>With all his zeal for correct writing, he was not, we -see, of the humour of that delicate sort, who are for -burning their old poets; and, to be well with women -and court critics, confine their reading and admiration -to the innocent sing-song of some soft and -fashionable rhymer, whose utter insipidity is a thousand -times more insufferable, than any barbarism.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>56. <span class="smcap">Pacuvius docti famam senis, Accius alti</span>:] -The epithet <i>doctus</i>, here applied to the tragic poet, -<i>Pacuvius</i>, is, I believe, sometimes misunderstood, -though the opposition to <i>altus</i> clearly determines -the sense. For, as this last word expresses the <i>sublime</i> -of sentiment and expression, which comes from -<i>nature</i>, so the former word must needs be interpreted -of that <i>exactness</i> in both, or at least of that <i>skill</i> in -the conduct of the scene (the proper <i>learning</i> of a -dramatic poet) which is the result of <i>art</i>.</p> - -<p>The Latin word <i>doctus</i> is indeed somewhat ambiguous: -but we are chiefly misled by the English -word, <i>learned</i>, by which we translate it, and by -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_351">351</span> -which, in general use, is meant, rather extensive -reading, and what we call <i>erudition</i>, than a profound -skill in the rules and principles of any art. -But this last is frequently the sense of the Latin term -<i>doctus</i>, as we may see from its application, in the -best classic writers, to other, besides the literary -professions. Thus, to omit other instances, we find -it applied very often in Horace himself. It is applied -to a <i>singing-girl</i>—<i>doctae</i> psallere Chiae—in one of -his Odes, l. iv. 13. It is applied to several <i>mechanic -arts</i> in this epistle—“<i>doctius</i> Achivis pingimus -atque psallimus et luctamur:” It is even applied, -<i>absolutely</i>, to the player Roscius—<i>doctus</i> Roscius, -in v. 82, where his skill in <i>acting</i> could only -be intended by it. It is, also, in this sense, that he -calls his imitator, <i>doctus</i>, i. e. skilled and knowing -in his art, A. P. v. 319. Nay, it is precisely in this -sense that Quinctilian uses the word, when he characterizes -this very Pacuvius—<i>Pacuvium videri</i> -doctiorem, <i>qui esse docti affectant, volunt</i> [l. x. -c. 1.] i. e. <i>they, who affect to be thought knowing in -the rules of dramatic writing, give this praise to -Pacuvius</i>. The expression is so put, as if Quinctilian -intended a censure of these critics; because this -pretence to dramatic art, and the strict imitation of -the Greek poets, was grown, in his time, and long -before it, into a degree of pedantry and <i>affectation</i>; -no other merit but this of <i>docti</i>, being of any significancy, -in their account. There is no reason to -think that Quinctilian meant to insinuate the poet’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_352">352</span> -want of this merit, or his own contempt of it: though -he might think, and with reason, that too much -stress had been laid upon it by some men.</p> - -<p>It is in the same manner that one of our own poets -has been characterized; and the application of this -term to him will shew the force of it, still more -clearly.</p> - -<p>In Mr. Pope’s fine imitation of this epistle, are -these lines—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In all debates, where critics bear a part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not one but nods, and talks of Jonson’s <i>art</i>—<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>One sees, then, how Mr. Pope understood the -<i>docti</i>, of Horace. But our Milton applies the word -<i>learned</i> itself, and in the Latin sense of it, to -Jonson—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When Jonson’s <i>learned</i> sock is on—<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>For what is this <i>learning</i>? Indisputably, his <i>dramatic -learning</i>, his skill in the scene, and his observance -of the ancient rules and practice. For, though -Jonson was indeed <i>learned</i>, in every sense, it is the -learning of his profession, as a comic artist, for -which he is here celebrated.</p> - -<p>The Latin substantive, <i>doctrina</i>, is used with the -same latitude, as the adjective, <i>doctus</i>. It sometimes -signifies the <i>peculiar sort</i> of learning, under consideration; -though sometimes again it signifies <i>learning</i>, -or erudition, at large. It is used in the <i>former</i> -sense by Cicero, when he observes of the satires of -Lucilius, that they were remarkable for their wit and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_353">353</span> -pleasantry, not for their <i>learning</i>—<i>doctrina</i> mediocris. -So that there is no contradiction in this judgment, -as is commonly thought, to that of Quinctilian, -who declares roundly—<i>eruditio</i> in eo mira—For, -though <i>doctrina</i> and <i>eruditio</i> be sometimes -convertible terms, they are not so here. The <i>learning</i> -Cicero speaks of in Lucilius, as being but <i>moderate</i>, -is his learning, or skill in the art of writing -and composition.—That this was the whole purport -of Cicero’s observation, any one may see by turning -to the place where it occurs, in the proeme to his -first book <span class="smcap">De finibus</span>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>59. <span class="smcap">Vincere Caecilius gravitate, Terentius -arte.</span>] It should be observed, that the judgment, -here passed [from v. 55 to 60] on the most celebrated -Roman writers, being only a representation -of the <i>popular</i> opinion, not of the poet’s <i>own</i>, the -commendations, given to them, are deserved, or -otherwise, just as it chances.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Interdum volgus rectum videt, est ubi peccat.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>To give an instance of this in the line before us.</p> - -<p>A critic of unquestioned authority acquaints us, -wherein the <i>real distinct merit</i> of these two dramatic -writers consists. “In <small>ARGUMENTIS</small>, Caecilius -palmam poscit; in <span class="smcap">Ethesin</span>, <span class="smcap">Terentius</span>.” -[Varro.] Now by <i>gravitate</i>, as applied to Caecilius, -we may properly enough understand the <i>grave and -affecting cast</i> of his comedy; which is further confirmed -by what the same critic elsewhere observes of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_354">354</span> -him. “<span class="smcap">Pathe</span> Trabea, Attilius, et <span class="smcap">Caecilius</span> facile -moverunt.” But Terence’s characteristic of -<i>painting the manners</i>, which is, plainly, the right -interpretation of Varro’s <span class="smcap">Ethesin</span>, is not so significantly -expressed by the attribute <i>arte</i>, here given to -him. The word indeed is of large and general import, -and may admit of various senses; but being -here applied to a <i>dramatic</i> writer, it most naturally -and properly denotes the <i>peculiar</i> art of his profession, -that is, <i>the artificial contexture of the -plot</i>. And this I doubt not was the very praise, the -town-critics of Horace’s time intended to bestow on -this poet. The matter is easily explained.</p> - -<p>The simplicity and exact unity of the plots in the -Greek comedies would be, of course, uninteresting -to a people, not thoroughly instructed in the genuin -beauties of the drama. They had too thin a contexture -to satisfy the gross and lumpish taste of a Roman -auditory. The Latin poets, therefore, bethought -themselves of combining two stories into one. And -this, which is what we call the <i>double plot</i>, affording -the opportunity of more incidents, and a greater -variety of <i>action</i>, was perfectly suited to their apprehensions. -But, of all the Latin Comedians, <i>Terence</i> -appears to have practised this secret most assiduously: -at least, as may be concluded from what remains of -them. <i>Plautus</i> hath very frequently <i>single plots</i>, -which he was enabled to support by, what was natural -to him, a force of buffoon pleasantry. <i>Terence</i>, -whose genius lay another way, or whose taste was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_355">355</span> -abhorrent from such ribaldry, had recourse to the -other expedient of <i>double plots</i>. And this, I suppose, -is what gained him the popular reputation of -being the most <i>artificial</i> writer for the stage. The -<span class="smcap">Hecyra</span> is the only one of his comedies, of the true -ancient cast. And we know how it came off in the -representation. That ill-success and the simplicity -of its conduct have continued to draw upon it the -same unfavourable treatment from the critics, to this -day; who constantly speak of it, as much inferior -to the rest; whereas, for the genuin beauty of dramatic -design, and the observance, after the ancient -Greek manner, of the nice dependency and coherence -of the <i>fable</i>, throughout, it is, indisputably, to every -reader of true taste, the most masterly and exquisite -of the whole collection.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>63. <span class="smcap">Interdum volgus rectum videt: est ubi -peccat.</span>] The capricious levity of <i>popular opinion</i> -hath been noted even to a proverb. And yet it is -this, which, after all, <i>fixes</i> the fate of authors. -This seemingly odd phaenomenon I would thus -account for.</p> - -<p>What is usually complimented with the high and -reverend appellation of <i>public judgment</i> is, in any -single instance, but the repetition or echo, for the -most part eagerly catched and strongly reverberated -on all sides, of a few leading voices, which have -happened to gain the confidence, and so direct the -<i>cry</i> of the public. But (as, in fact, it too often falls -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_356">356</span> -out) this prerogative of the <i>few</i> may be abused to the -prejudice of the <i>many</i>. The partialities of friendship, -the fashionableness of the writer, his compliance -with the reigning taste, the lucky concurrence of -time and opportunity, the cabal of a party, nay, the -very freaks of whim and caprice, these, or any of -them, as occasion serves, can support the dullest, as -the opposite disadvantages can depress the noblest -performance; and give the currency or neglect to -<i>either</i>, far beyond what the genuin character of each -demands. Hence the <i>public voice</i>, which is but the -aggregate of these corrupt judgments, infinitely -multiplied, is, with the wise, at such a juncture, -deservedly of little esteem. Yet, in a succession of -such <i>judgments</i>, delivered at different times and by -different sets or juntos of these sovereign arbiters of -the fate of authors, the public opinion naturally gets -clear of these accidental corruptions. Every fresh -succession shakes off some; till, by degrees, the work -is seen in its proper form, unsupported of every other -recommendation, than what its native inherent -excellence bestows upon it. Then, and not till then, -<i>the voice of the people</i> becomes sacred; after which -it soon advances into <i>divinity</i>, before which all -ages must fall down and worship. For now Reason -alone, without her corrupt assessors, takes the chair. -And her sentence, when once promulgated and -authorized by the general voice, fixes the unalterable -doom of authors. ΟΛΩΣ ΚΑΛΑ ΝΟΜΙΖΕ ΥΨΗ -ΚΑΙ ΑΛΗΘΙΝΑ, ΤΑ ΔΙΑΠΑΝΤΟΣ ΑΡΕΣΚΟΝΤΑ -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_357">357</span> -ΚΑΙ ΠΑΣΙΝ [Longinus, § vii.] And the reason -follows, agreeably to the account here given. Ὅταν -γὰρ τοῖς ἀπὸ διαφόρων ΕΠΙΤΗΔΕΥΜΑΤΩΝ, ΒΙΩΝ, -ΖΗΛΩΝ, ΗΛΙΚΙΩΝ, λόγων, ἕν τι καὶ ταὐτὸν ἅμα -περὶ τῶν αὐτῶν ἅπασι δοκῇ, τόθ’ ἡ ἐξ ἀσυμφώνων -ὡς κρίσις καὶ συγκατάθεσις τὴν ἐπὶ τῷ θαυμαζομένῳ -ΠΙΣΤΙΝ ΙΣΧΥΡΑΝ ΛΑΜΒΑΝΕΙ ΚΑΙ ΑΝΑΜΦΙΛΕΚΤΟΝ. -[Ibid.]</p> - -<p>This is the true account of <i>popular fame</i>, which, -while it well explains the ground of the poet’s aphorism, -suggests an obvious remark, but very mortifying -to every candidate of literary glory. It is, -that, whether he succeeds in his endeavours after -public applause, or not, <i>fame</i> is equally out of his -reach, and, as the moral poet teaches, <i>a thing -beyond him, before his death</i>, on either supposition. -For at the very time, that this bewitching music is -sounding in his ears, he can never be sure, if, instead -of the divine consentient harmony of a just praise, it -be not only the discordant din and clamour of ignorance -or prepossession.</p> - -<p>If there be any exception to this melancholy truth, -it must be in the case of some uncommon genius, -whose superior power breaks through all impediments -in his road to fame, and forces applause even from -those very prejudices, that would obstruct his career -to it. It was the rare felicity of the poet, just mentioned, -to receive, in his life-time, this sure and -pleasing augury of immortality. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_358">358</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>88. <span class="smcap">Ingeniis non ille favet</span>, &c.] <span class="smcap">Malherbe</span> -was to the French, pretty much what <span class="smcap">Horace</span> had -been to the Latin, poetry. These great writers had, -each of them, rescued the lyric muse of their country -out of the rude, ungracious hands of their old poets. -And, as their talents of a <i>good ear</i>, <i>elegant judgment</i>, -and <i>correct expression</i>, were the same, they -presented her to the public in all the air and grace, -and yet <i>severity</i>, of beauty, of which her form was -susceptible. Their merits and pretensions being -thus far resembling, the reader may not be incurious -to know the fate and fortune of <i>each</i>. <i>Horace</i> hath -very frankly told us, what befel himself from the -malevolent and low passions of his countrymen. -<i>Malherbe</i> did not come off, with the wits and critics -of his time, much better; as we learn from a learned -person, who hath very warmly recommended his -writings to the public. Speaking of the envy, which -pursued him in his <i>prose-works</i>, but, says he, -“Comme il faisoit une particuliere profession de la -<i>poesie</i>, c’est en cette qualité qu’il a de plus severes -censeurs, et receu des injustices plus signalées. -Mais il me semble que je fermerai la bouche à -ceux, que le blament, quand je leur aurai monstré, -que sa façon d’escrire est excellente, quoiqu’elle -s’eloigne un peu de celle des <small>NOS ANCIENS POETES, -QU’ILS LOUENT PLUSTOT PAR UN DEGOUST DES -CHOSES PRESENTES, QUE PAR LES SENTIMENTS D’UNE -VERITABLE ESTIME</small>.” [<span class="smcap">Disc. de M. Godeau sur -les oeuvres de M. Malherbe.</span>] -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_359">359</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>97. <span class="smcap">Suspendit mentem vultumque.</span>] The -expression hath great elegance, and is not liable to -the imputation of <i>harsh, or improper construction</i>. -For <i>suspendit</i> is not taken, with regard either to -<i>mentem</i> or <i>vultum</i>, in its <i>literal</i>, but <i>figurative</i>, -signification; and, thus, it becomes, in one and the -<i>same</i> sense, applicable to <i>both</i>.</p> - -<p>Otherwise, this way of coupling <i>two substantives</i> -to a <i>verb</i>, which does not, in strict grammatical usage, -<i>govern</i> both; or, if it doth, must needs be construed -in different senses; hath given just offence to the -best critics.</p> - -<p>Mr. Pope censures a passage of this kind, in the -<i>Iliad</i>, with severity; and thinks <i>the taste of the -ancients was, in general, too good for those fooleries</i><a id="FNanchor_38" href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">38</a>.</p> - -<p>Mr. Addison is perfectly of the same mind, as -appears from his criticism on that line in Ovid, -<i>Consiliis, non curribus utere nostris</i>, “This way -of joining, says he, two such different ideas as -chariot and counsel to the same verb, is mightily -used by <i>Ovid</i>, but is a very low kind of wit, and -has always in it a mixture of <i>pun</i>; because the verb -must be taken in a different sense, when it is joined -with one of the things, from what it has in conjunction -with the other. Thus in the end of this -story he tells you, that Jupiter flung a thunderbolt -at Phaëton; <i>pariterque animaque rotisque -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_360">360</span> -expulit aurigam</i>: where he makes a forced piece of -<i>Latin</i> (<i>animâ expulit aurigam</i>) that he may couple -the soul and the wheels to the same verb<a id="FNanchor_39" href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">39</a>.”</p> - -<p>These, the reader will think, are pretty good -authorities. For, in matters of <i>taste</i>, I know of -none, that more deserve to be regarded. The <i>mere -verbal critic</i>, one would think, should be cautious, -how he opposed himself to them. And yet a very -learned Dutchman, who has taken great pains in -<i>elucidating</i> an old Greek love-story, which, with its -more passionate admirers, may, perhaps, pass for the -<span class="smcap">Marianne</span> of antiquity, hath not scrupled to censure -this decision of their’s very sharply<a id="FNanchor_40" href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">40</a>.</p> - -<p>Having transcribed the censure of Mr. Pope, who, -indeed, somewhat too hastily, suspects the line in -Homer for an Interpolation, our critic fastens upon -him directly. <span class="smcap">En cor Zenodoti, en jecur Cratetis!</span> -But foul language and fair criticism are different -things; and what he offers of the <i>latter</i> rather -accounts for than justifies the <i>former</i>. All he says -on the subject, is in the good old way of <i>authorities</i>, -which, he diligently rakes together out of every corner -of Greek and Roman antiquity. From all these he -concludes, as he thinks, irresistibly, not that the -passage in question <i>might</i> be <i>genuin</i> (for that few -would dispute with him) but that the kind of expression -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_361">361</span> -itself is a <i>real beauty</i>. <i>Bona elocutio est: -honesta figura.</i> Though, to the praise of his discretion -be it remembered, he does not even venture -on this assertion, without his usual support of -<i>precedent</i>. And, for want of a better, he takes up -with old <i>Servius</i>. For so, it seems, this grammarian -hath declared himself, with respect to some expressions -of the same kind in <i>Virgil</i>.</p> - -<p>But let him make the best of his authorities. -And, when he has done that, I shall take the liberty -to assure him, that the persons, he contends against, -do not think themselves, in the least, concerned -with them. For, though he believes it an undeniable -maxim, <i>Critici non esse inquirere, utrum -recte autor quid scripserit, sed an omnino sic scripserit</i><a id="FNanchor_41" href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">41</a>: -yet, in the case before us, he must not be -surprized, if others do not so conceive of it.</p> - -<p>Indeed, where the critic would defend the <i>authenticity</i> -of a word or expression, the way of <i>precedent</i> -is, doubtless, the very best, that common sense -allows to be taken. For the evidence of <i>fact</i>, at once, -bears down all suspicion of <i>corruption</i> or <i>interpolation</i>. -Again; if the <i>elegance</i> of single words (or -of intire phrases, where the suspicion turns on the -<i>oddity or uncommoness of the construction</i>, only) be -the matter in dispute, full and precise authorities -must decide it. For <i>elegance</i>, here, means nothing -else but the practice of the best writers. And thus -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_362">362</span> -far I would join issue with the learned censurer; and -should think he did well in prescribing this rule to -himself in the correction of <i>approved ancient -authors</i>.</p> - -<p>But what have these cases to do with the point in -question? The objection is made, not to <i>words</i>, -which alone are capable of being justified by authority, -but to <i>things</i>, which must ever be what they -are, in spite of it. This mode of writing is shewn -to be abundantly defective, for reasons taken from -<i>the nature of our ideas, and the end and genius of -the nobler forms of composition</i>. And what is it to -tell us, that great writers have overlooked or neglected -them?</p> - -<p>1. In our customary train of <i>thinking</i>, the mind -is carried along, <i>in succession</i>, from <i>one</i> clear and -distinct idea to <i>another</i>. Or, if the attention be -<i>at once</i> employed on <i>two senses</i>, there is ever such a -close and near analogy betwixt them, that the -perceptive faculty, easily and almost instantaneously -passing from the one to the other, is not divided in -its regards betwixt them, but even seems to itself to -consider them, as <i>one</i>: as is the case with <i>metaphor</i>: -and, universally, with all the just forms of <i>allusion</i>. -The union between the <i>literal</i> and <i>figurative</i> sense -is so strict, that they run together in the imagination; -and the effect of the <i>figure</i> is only to let in fresh -light and lustre on the <i>literal</i> meaning. But now, -when <i>two different, unconnected ideas</i> are obtruded, -at the same time upon us, the mind suffers a kind of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_363">363</span> -violence and distraction, and is thereby put out of -that natural state, in which it so much delights. -To take the learned writer’s instance from Polybius: -ΕΛΠΙΔΑ καὶ ΧΕΙΡΑ ΠΡΟΣΛΑΜΒΑΝΕΙΝ. How -different is the idea of <i>collecting forces</i>, and of that -<i>act</i> of the mind, which we call <i>taking courage</i>! -These two <i>perceptions</i> are not only distinct from each -other, but totally unconnected by any <i>natural</i> bond -of relationship betwixt them. And yet the word -ΠΡΟΣΛΑΜΒΑΝΕΙΝ must be seen in this double -view, before we can take the full meaning of the -historian.</p> - -<p>2. This conjunction of <i>unrelated</i> ideas, by the -means of a <i>common term</i>, agrees as ill to the <i>end -and genius of the writer’s composition</i>, as <i>the natural -bent and constitution of the mind</i>. For the -question is only about the <i>greater poetry</i>, which -addresses itself to the <small>PASSIONS</small>, or <small>IMAGINATION</small>. -And, in either case, this play of words which Mr. -Pope condemns, must be highly out of season.</p> - -<p>When we are necessitated, as it were, to look -different ways, and actually to contemplate two unconnected -significations of the same word, before we -can thoroughly comprehend its purpose, the mind -is more amused by this fanciful conjunction of ideas, -than is consistent with the artless, undesigning -simplicity of <i>passion</i>. It disturbs and interrupts the -flow of <i>affection</i>, by presenting this disparted image -to the <i>fancy</i>. Again; where <i>fancy</i> itself is solely -addressed, as in the <i>nobler descriptive species</i>, this -arbitrary assemblage of ideas is not less improper. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_364">364</span> -For the poet’s business is now, to astonish or entertain -the mind with a succession of <i>great</i> or <i>beautiful</i> -images. And the intervention of this juggler’s trick -diverts the thought from contemplating its proper -scenery. We should be admiring some glorious -representation of <i>nature</i>, and are stopped, on a -sudden, to observe the writer’s <i>art</i>, whose ingenuity -can fetch, out of one word, two such foreign and -discrepant meanings.</p> - -<p>In the lighter forms of poetry indeed, and more -especially in the <i>burlesque epic</i>, this affectation has -its <i>place</i>; as in that line of Mr. Pope, quoted by -this critic;</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>sometimes counsel</i> takes, <i>and sometimes tea</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>For 1. The writer’s intention is here, not to <i>affect -the passions</i>, or <i>transport the fancy</i>, but solely to -<i>divert and amuse</i>. And to such <i>end</i> this species of -trifling is very apposite. 2. The <i>manner</i>, which -the burlesque epic takes to divert, is by confounding -<i>great things with small</i>. A <i>mode of speech</i> then, -which favours such <i>confusion</i>, is directly to its purpose. -3. This poem is, by its nature, <i>satyrical</i>, -and, like the <i>old comedy</i>, delights in exposing the -faults and vices of <i>composition</i>. So that the <i>expression</i> -is here properly employed (and this was, perhaps, -the <i>first</i> view of the writer) to ridicule the use -of it in <i>grave works</i>. If M. <i>D’Orville</i> then could -seriously design to confute Mr. Pope’s criticism by -his own practice in that line of the <i>Rape of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_365">365</span> -Lock</i>, he has only shewn, that he does not, in the -least, comprehend the real genius of this poem. -But to return:</p> - -<p>There is, as appears to me, but one case, in which -this <i>double sense</i> of words can be admitted in the -more solemn forms of poetry. It is, when, besides -the plain literal meaning, which the context demands, -the mind is carried forward to some more -illustrious and important object. We have an instance -in the famous line of Virgil,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Attollens humeris famamque et fata nepotum</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But this is so far from contradicting, that it furthers -the writer’s proper intention. We are not called off -from the <i>subject matter</i> to the observation of a <i>conceit</i>, -but to the admiration of <i>kindred</i> sublime conceptions. -For even here, it is to be observed, there -is always required some previous dependency and relationship, -though not extremely obvious, in the -natures of the things themselves, whereon to ground -and justify the analogy. Otherwise, the intention -of the <i>double sense</i> is perfectly inexcusable.</p> - -<p>But the instance from Virgil, as we have seen it -explained (and for the first time) by a great critic<a id="FNanchor_42" href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">42</a>, -is so curious, that I shall be allowed to enlarge a little -upon it: and the rather as Virgil’s practice in this -instance will let us into the true secret of conducting -these <i>double senses</i>.</p> - -<p>The comment of <i>Servius</i> on this line is remarkable. -“Hunc versum notant Critici, quasi superfluè -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_366">366</span> -et inutiliter additum, nec convenientem <i>gravitati</i> -ejus, namque est magis <i>neotericus</i>.” Mr. -Addison conceived of it in the same manner when he -said, “<i>This was the only witty line in the Æneis</i>;” -meaning such a line as <i>Ovid</i> would have written. -We see the opinion which these Critics entertained -of the <i>double sense</i>, in <i>general</i>, in the greater Poetry. -They esteemed it a wanton play of fancy, misbecoming -the dignity of the writer’s work, and the -gravity of his character. They took it, in short, -for a mere <i>modern</i> flourish, totally different from -the pure unaffected manner of genuin antiquity. -And thus far they unquestionably judged right. -Their defect was in not seeing that the <i>use</i> of it, as -here employed by the Poet, was an exception to the -<i>general rule</i>. But to have seen this was not, perhaps, -to be expected even from these Critics.</p> - -<p>However, from this want of penetration arose a -difficulty in determining whether to read, <i>Facta</i> -or <i>Fata</i> Nepotum. And, as we now understand -that <i>Servius</i> and his Critics were utter strangers to -Virgil’s noble idea, it is no wonder they could not -resolve it. But the <i>latter</i> is the Poet’s own word. -He considered this shield of celestial make as a kind -of Palladium, like the <span class="smcap">Ancile</span>, which fell from -Heaven, and used to be carried in procession on the -shoulders of the <span class="smcap">Salii</span>. “Quid de scutis,” says Lactantius, -“jam vetustate putridis dicam? Quae cum -portant, <i>Deos ipsos se gestare</i> <span class="smcap">Humeris suis</span> <i>arbitrantur</i>.” -[Div. Inst. l. i. c. 21.] -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_367">367</span></p> - -<p>Virgil, in a fine flight of imagination, alludes to -this venerable ceremony, comparing, as it were, -the shield of his Hero to the sacred <span class="smcap">Ancile</span>; and -in conformity to the practice in that sacred procession -represents his Hero in the priestly office of -Religion,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Attollens</i> <span class="smcap">Humero</span> <i>famamque et</i> <small>FATA</small> <i>Nepotum.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This idea then of the sacred shield, the guard and -glory of Rome, and on which, in this advanced situation, -depended the fame and fortune of his country, -the poet, with extreme elegance and sublimity, -transfers to the shield which guarded their great -progenitor, while he was laying the first foundations -of the Roman Empire.</p> - -<p>But to return to the subject before us. What has -been said of the impropriety of <i>double senses</i>, holds -of <i>the construction of a single term in two senses</i>, -even though its authorized usage may equally admit -<i>both</i>. So that I cannot be of a mind with the -learned critic’s <i>wise men</i><a id="FNanchor_43" href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">43</a>; <i>who acknowledge an extreme -elegance in this form, when the governing -verb equally corresponds to the two substantives</i>. -But when it properly can be applied but to <i>one</i> of -them, and with some force and straining only, to -the <i>second</i>, as commonly happens with the application -of <i>one verb</i> to <i>two substantives</i>, it then degenerates, -as Mr. Addison observes, into a mere <i>quibble</i>, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_368">368</span> -and is utterly incompatible with the graver -form of composition. And for this we have the -concurrent authority of the <i>cordati</i> themselves, who -readily admit, <i>durum admodum et</i> καταχρηστικωτέραν -<i>fieri orationem, si verbum hoc ab alterutro abhorreat</i><a id="FNanchor_44" href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">44</a>. -Without softening matters, besides the -former absurdity of <i>a second sense</i>, we are now indebted -to a forced and barbarous construction for -<i>any</i> second sense <i>at all</i>.</p> - -<p>But surely this venerable bench of critics, to -whom our censurer thinks fit to make his solemn -appeal, were not aware of the imprudence of this -concession. For why, if one may presume to ask, -is the <i>latter</i> use of this <i>figure</i> condemned, but for -reasons, which shew the manifest absurdity of -the thing, however countenanced by authorities? -And is not this the case of the <i>former</i>? Or, is the -transgression of the standing rules of <i>good sense</i>, in -the judgment of these <i>censors</i>, a more pardonable -crime in a writer, than of <i>common usage or grammar</i>?</p> - -<p>After all, since he lays so great stress on his <i>authorities</i>, -it may not be amiss to consider the proper -force of them.</p> - -<p>The form of speaking under consideration has -been censured as a <i>trifling, affected witticism</i>. -This <i>censure</i> he hopes entirely to elude by shewing -it was in use, more especially among two sorts of -persons, the least likely to be infected with <i>wrong -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_369">369</span> -taste</i>, the <i>oldest</i>, that is to say, the <i>simplest</i>; and -the most <i>refined</i> writers. In short, he thinks to -stop all mouths by alledging instances from <i>Homer</i> -and <i>Virgil</i>.</p> - -<p>But what if Homer and Virgil in the few examples -of this kind to be met with in their writings have -<i>erred</i>? And, which is more, what if that very -<i>simplicity</i> on the one hand, and <i>refinement</i> on the -other, which he builds so much upon, can be shewn -to be the <i>natural</i> and almost necessary <i>occasions</i> of -their falling into such <i>errors</i>? This, I am persuaded, -was the truth of the case. For,</p> - -<p>1. In the <i>simpler ages of learning</i>, when, as yet, -composition is not turned into an <i>art</i>, but every -writer, especially of vehement and impetuous genius, -is contented to put down his <i>first thoughts</i>, and, for -their <i>expression</i>, takes up with the most obvious -words and phrases, that present themselves to him, -this improper construction will not be unfrequent. -For the writer, who is not knowing enough to take -offence at these niceties, having an immediate occasion -to express <i>two things</i>, and finding <i>one word</i>, -which, in common usage, at least with a little -straining, extends to <i>both</i>, he looks no further, but, -as suspecting no fault, employs it without scruple. -And I am the more confirmed in this account, from -observing, that sometimes, where the governing -<i>verb</i> cannot be made to bear this double sense, and -yet the meaning of the writer is clear enough from -the context, the proper word is altogether omitted. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_370">370</span> -Of this kind are several of the <i>modes of speaking</i>, -alledged by the writer as instances of the <i>double -sense</i>. As in that of Sophocles<a id="FNanchor_45" href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">45</a>, where Electra, -giving orders to Chrysothemis, about the disposal of -the libations, destined for the tomb of her father, -delivers herself thus,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">ΑΛΛ’ ἢ ΠΝΟΑΙΣΙΝ, ἢ βαθυσκαφει̃ ΚΟΝΕΙ ΚΡΥΨΟΝ νιν.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The writer’s first intention was to look out for some -such <i>verb</i>, as would equally correspond to ωνοαις -and κὁνει, but this not occurring, he sets down one, -that only agrees to the last, and leaves the other to -be understood or supplied by the reader; as it easily -might, the scope of the place necessarily directing -him to it. It cannot be supposed, that Sophocles -designed to say, κρύψον πνοαῖς. There is no affinity -of <i>sense</i> or <i>sound</i> to lead him to such construction. -Again: in that verse of Homer<a id="FNanchor_46" href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">46</a>, -ἽΠΠΟΙ αἐρσίποδες, καὶ ποικίλα ΤΕΥΧΕ’ ΕΚΕΙΤΟ, -the poet never meant to say ἵπποι ἔκειντο, but neglectingly -left it thus, as trusting the nature of the -thing would instruct the reader to supply ἔστασαν, or -some such word, expressive of the <i>posture</i> required.</p> - -<p>Nay, writers of more exactness than these simple -Greek poets have occasionally overlooked such inaccuracies: -as Cicero<a id="FNanchor_47" href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">47</a>, who, when more intent on his -<i>argument</i>, than <i>expression</i>, lets fall this impropriety; -<i>Nec vero</i> <span class="smcap">supra terram</span>, <i>sed etiam</i> <span class="smcap">in intimis ejus</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_371">371</span> -<small>TENEBRIS</small> <i>plurimarum rerum</i> <small>LATET</small> <i>utilitas</i>. ’Tis -plain, the writer, conceiving <i>extat</i>, <i>patet</i>, or some -such word, to be necessarily suggested by the tenor -of his sentence, never troubled himself to go back -to insert it. Yet these are brought as examples of -the <i>double application of single words</i>. The -truth is, they are examples of <i>indiligence</i> in the -writers, and as such, may shew us, how easily they -might fall, for the same reason, into the impropriety -of <i>double senses</i>. In those of this class then the impropriety, -complained of, is the effect of mere <i>inattention -or carelessness</i>.</p> - -<p>2. On the other hand, when this negligent simplicity -of <i>thinking and speaking</i> gives way to the -utmost polish and refinement in <i>both</i>, we are then -to expect it, for the contrary reason. For the more -obvious and natural forms of writing being, now, -grown common, are held insipid, and the public -taste demands to be gratified by the seasoning of a more -studied and artificial expression. It is not enough -to <i>please</i>, the writer must find means to <i>strike</i> and -<i>surprize</i>. And hence the <i>antithesis</i>, the <i>remote -allusion</i>, and every other mode of <i>affected eloquence</i>. -But of these the <i>first</i> that prevails, is the application -of the <i>double sense</i>. For the general use -justifying it, it easily passes with the reader and -writer too, for <i>natural</i> expression; and yet as splitting -the attention suddenly, and at once, on two -different views, carries with it all the novelty and -surprize, that are wanted. When the public taste -is not, yet, far gone in this refinement, and the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_372">372</span> -writer hath himself the truest taste (which was <span class="smcap">Virgil’s</span> -case) such affectations will not be very common; -or, when they do occur, will, for the most part, -be agreeably softened. As in the instance of <i>retroque -pedem cum voce repressit</i>; where, by making -<i>voce</i> immediately dependent on the <i>preposition</i>, and -remotely on the <i>verb</i>, he softens the harshness of -the expression, which seems much more tolerable -in this form, than if he had put it, <i>pedem vocemque -repressit</i>. So again in the line,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Crudeles aras trajectaque pectora ferro</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Nudavit,</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>the incongruity of <i>the two senses</i> in <i>nudavit</i>, is the -less perceived from its <i>metaphorical application</i> to -<i>one</i> of them.</p> - -<p>But the desire of <i>pleasing continually</i>, which, in -the circumstance supposed, insensibly grows into a -<i>habit</i>, must, of necessity, betray writers of less taste -and exactness into the frequent commission of this -fault. Which, as Mr. Addison takes notice, was -remarkably the case with <span class="smcap">Ovid</span>.</p> - -<p>The purpose of all this is to shew, that the use of -this <i>form of speaking</i> arose from <i>negligence</i>, or <i>affectation</i>, -never from <i>judgment</i>. And such being -the obvious, and, it is presumed, true account of -the matter, the learned <i>Animadvertor</i> on <span class="smcap">Chariton</span> -is left, as I said, to make the best of his <i>authorities</i>; -or, even to enlarge his list of them with the <i>Centuries</i><a id="FNanchor_48" href="#Footnote_48" class="fnanchor">48</a> -of his good friends, at his leisure. For till he -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_373">373</span> -can tell us of a writer, who, neither in <i>careless</i>, -nor <i>ambitious</i> humours, is capable of this folly, his -accumulated citations, were they more to his purpose, -than many of them are, will do him little service. -Unless perhaps we are to give up common -sense to authority, and pride ourselves on mimicking -the very defects of our <i>betters</i>. And even here -he need not be at a loss for <i>precedents</i>. For so the -disciples of Plato, we are told, in former times, -affected to be <i>round-shouldered</i>, in compliment to -their master; and Aristotle’s worshipers, because -of a natural impediment in this philosopher’s speech, -thought it to their credit to turn <i>Stammerers</i>. And -without doubt, while this fashion prevailed, there -were critics, who found out a <i>Je ne sçai quoi</i> in the -<i>air</i> of the one party, and in the <i>eloquence</i> of the -other.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>97. <span class="smcap">Suspendit picta vultum mentemque tabella</span>;] -Horace judiciously describes <i>painting</i> by -that peculiar circumstance, which does most honour -to this fine art. It is, that, in the hands of a master, -it attaches, not the <i>eyes</i> only, but the very <i>soul</i>, -to its representation of the <i>human affections and -manners</i>. For it is in contemplating <i>subjects</i> of this -kind, that the mind, with a fond and eager attention, -<i>hangs</i> on the picture. Other imitations may -<i>please</i>, but this warms and transports with <i>passion</i>. -And, because whatever addresses itself immediately -to the <i>eye</i>, affects us most; hence it is, that painting, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_374">374</span> -so employed, becomes more efficacious to express -the <i>manners</i> and imprint <i>characters</i>, than poetry -itself: or rather, hath the advantages of the best -and usefullest species of poetry, the <i>dramatic</i>, when -enforced by just action on the stage.</p> - -<p>Quintilian gives it the like preference to <i>Oratory</i>. -Speaking of the use of <i>action</i> in an orator, he observes, -“Is [gestus] quantum habeat in oratore, momenti; -satis vel ex eo patet, quod pleraque, etiam citra -verba, significat. Quippe non manus solum, sed -nutus etiam declarant nostram voluntatem, et in -mutis pro sermone sunt: et salutatio frequenter -sine voce intelligitur atque afficit, et ex ingressu -vultuque perspicitur habitus animorum: et animantium -quoque, sermone carentium, ira, laetitia, -adulatio, et oculis et quibusdam aliis corporis -signis deprehenditur. Nec mirum, si ista, quae -tamen aliquo sunt posita motu, tantum in animis -valent: quum <i>pictura, tacens opus, et habitûs -semper ejusdem, sic intimos penetret affectus, ut -ipsam vim dicendi nonnunquam superare videatur</i><a id="FNanchor_49" href="#Footnote_49" class="fnanchor">49</a>.”</p> - -<p>We see then of what importance it is, since <i>affections</i> -of every kind are equally within his power, -that the painter apply himself to excite only <i>those</i>, -which are subservient to good morals. An importance, -of which Aristotle himself (who was no -enthusiast in the fine arts) was so sensible, that he -gives it in charge, amongst other political instructions, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_375">375</span> -to the governors of youth, “that they allow -them to see no other pictures, than such as have -this moral aim and tendency; of which kind were -more especially those of <span class="smcap">Polygnotus</span>.” [<span class="smcap">Polit.</span> -lib. viii. c. 5.]</p> - -<p>For the <i>manner</i>, in which this moral efficacy of -picture is brought about, we find it agreeably explained -in that conversation of <i>Socrates</i> with <i>Parrhasius</i> -in the <i>Memorabilia</i> of Xenophon. The -whole may be worth considering.</p> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Painting</span>, said Socrates, one day, in a conversation -with the painter Parrhasius, is, I think, -the resemblance or imitation of sensible objects. -For you represent in colours, bodies of all sorts, -<i>hollow and projecting, bright and obscure, hard -and soft, old and new</i>. “We do.” And, when -you would draw beautiful pourtraits, since it is -not possible to find any <i>single figure</i> of a man, -faultless in all its parts and of exact proportion; -your way is to collect, from <i>several</i>, those members -or features, which are most perfect in each, -and so, by joining them together, to compound -one whole body, completely beautiful. “That -is our method.” What then, continued Socrates, -and are you not able, also, to imitate in colours, -the <small>MANNERS</small>; those tendencies and dispositions -of the soul, which are benevolent, friendly, and -amiable; such as inspire love and affection into -the heart, and whose soft insinuations carry with -them the power of persuasion? -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_376">376</span></p> - -<p>“How, replied Parrhasius, can the pencil imitate -<i>that</i>, which hath no proportion, colour, or any -other of those properties, you have been just now -enumerating, as the objects of sight?” Why, is it -not true, returned Socrates, that a man sometimes -casts a <i>kind</i>, sometimes, an <i>angry</i>, look on others? -“It is.” There must then be something in the -eyes capable of expressing those passions. “There -must.” And is there not a wide difference between -the look of him, who takes part in the prosperity -of a friend, and another, who sympathizes -with him in his sorrows? “Undoubtedly, there is -the widest. The countenance, in the one case, expresses -joy, in the other, concern.” These affections -may then be represented in picture. -“They may so.” In like manner, all other dispositions -of our nature, <i>the lofty and the liberal, -the abject and ungenerous, the temperate and -the prudent, the petulant and profligate</i>, these -are severally discernible by the <i>look or attitude</i>: -and that, whether we observe men in <i>action</i>, or -at <i>rest</i>. “They are.” And these, therefore, -come within the power of graphical imitation? -“They do.” Which then, concluded Socrates, do -you believe, men take the greatest pleasure in -contemplating; such imitations, as set before -them the <small>GOOD</small>, the <small>LOVELY</small>, and the <small>FAIR</small>, of -those, which represent the <small>BAD</small>, the <small>HATEFUL</small>, -and the <small>UGLY</small>, <i>qualities and affections of humanity</i>? -There can be no doubt, said Parrhasius, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_377">377</span> -of their giving the preference to the former.” -[Lib. iii.]</p> - -<p>The conclusion, the <i>philosopher</i> drives at in this -conversation, and which the <i>painter</i> readily concedes -to him, is what, I am persuaded, every master of -the art would be willing to act upon, were he at -liberty to pursue the bent of his natural genius and -inclination. But it unfortunately happens, to the -infinite prejudice of this <i>mode of imitation</i>, above -all others, that the artist <i>designs</i> not so much what -the dignity of his profession requires of him, or the -general taste of those, he would most wish for his -judges, approves; as what the rich or noble <i>Connoisseur</i>, -who <i>bespeaks</i> his work, and prescribes -the subject, demands. What this has usually been, -let the history of ancient and modern painting declare<a id="FNanchor_50" href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">50</a>. -Yet, considering its vast power in <small>MORALS</small>, -as explained above, one cannot enough lament the -ill destiny of this divine <small>ART</small>; which, from the -chaste hand-maid of <i>virtue</i>, hath been debauched, -in violence to her nature, to a shameless prostitute -of <i>vice</i>, and procuress of <i>pleasure</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>117. <span class="smcap">Scribimus indocti doctique poemata passim</span>.] -The <small>DOCTI POETAE</small> have at all times been -esteemed by the wise and good, or, rather, have been -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_378">378</span> -reverenced, as Plato speaks, ὥσπερ πατέρες τῆς σοφίας -καὶ ἡγεμόνες.</p> - -<p>As for the <small>INDOCTI</small>, we may take their character -as drawn by the severe, but just pen of our great -Milton—“Poetas equidem verè doctos et diligo et -colo et audiendo saepissimè delector—istos verò -versiculorum nugivendos quis non oderit? quo -genere nihil stultius aut vanius aut corruptius, aut -mendacius. Laudant, vituperant, sine delectu, -sine discrimine, judicio aut modo, nunc principes, -nunc plebeios, doctos juxta atque indoctos, probos -an improbos perindè habent; prout cantharus, -aut spes nummuli, aut fatuus ille furor inflat ac -rapit; congestis undique et verborum et rerum -tot discoloribus ineptiis tamque putidis, ut laudatum -longè praestet sileri, et pravo, quod aiunt, -vivere naso, quàm sic laudari: vituperatus verò -qui sit, haud mediocri sanè honori sibi ducat, se -tam absurdis, tam stolidis nebulonibus displicere.” -<span class="smcap">Def. Secund. pro Pop. Ang.</span> p. 337. 4<sup>to</sup> Lond. 1753.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>118. <span class="smcap">Hic error tamen</span>, &c.] What follows -from hence to v. 136, containing an encomium on -<i>the office of poets</i>, is one of the leading beauties in -the epistle. Its artifice consists in this, that, under -the cover of a negligent commendation, interspersed -with even some <i>traits</i> of pleasantry upon them, it -insinuates to the emperor, in the manner the least -offensive and ostentatious, the genuin merits, and -even <i>sacredness</i> of their character. The whole is a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_379">379</span> -fine instance of that address, which, in delivering -rules for this kind of writing, the poet prescribes -elsewhere.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Et sermone opus est modo tristi, saepe jocoso,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Defendente vicem modo Rhetoris atque Poetae;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Interdum</i> <small>URBANI PARCENTIS VIRIBUS ATQUE</small><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Extenuantis eas consulto</span>.<br /></span> -<span class="author">[1 S. x. 14.]<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This conduct, in the place before us, shews the -poet’s exquisite knowledge of <i>human nature</i>. For -there is no surer method of removing prejudices, -and gaining over <i>others</i> to an esteem of any thing -we would recommend, than by not appearing to lay -too great a stress on it <i>ourselves</i>. It is, further, a -proof of his intimate acquaintance with the peculiar -turn of the <i>great</i>; who, not being forward to think -highly of any thing but themselves and their own dignities, -are, with difficulty, brought to conceive of -other accomplishments, as of much value; and can -only be won by the fair and candid address of their -apologist, who must be sure not to carry his praises -and pretensions too high. It is this art of entering -into the <i>characters, prejudices, and expectations</i> of -others, and of knowing to suit our application, prudently, -but with innocence, to them, which constitutes -what we call <small>A KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD</small>. -An art, of which the great poet was a consummate -master, and than which there cannot be a more useful -or amiable quality. Only we must take care not -to confound it with that supple, versatile, and intriguing -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_380">380</span> -genius, which, taking all shapes, and reflecting -all characters, generally passes for it in the -commerce of the world, or rather is prized much -above it; but, as requiring no other talents in the -possessor than those of a <i>low cunning</i> and <i>corrupt -design</i>, is of all others the most mischievous, worthless, -and contemptible character, that infests human -life.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>118. <span class="smcap">Hic error tamen et levis haec insania -Quantas Virtutes habeat, sic collige</span>:] This -apology for <i>poets</i>, and, in them, for <i>poetry</i> itself, -though delivered with much apparent negligence -and unconcern, yet, if considered, will be found to -comprize in it every thing, that any, or all, of its -most zealous advocates have ever pretended in its -behalf. For it comprehends,</p> - -<p>I. [From v. 118 to 124,] <span class="smcap">the personal good -qualities of the poet</span>. Nothing is more insisted -on by those, who take upon themselves the patronage -and recommendation of any <i>art</i>, than that it -tends to raise in the professor of it all those <i>virtues</i>, -which contribute most to his <i>own</i> proper enjoyment, -and render him most agreeable to <i>others</i>. Now -this, it seems, may be urged, on the side of <i>poetry</i>, -with a peculiar force. For not only the <i>study</i> of -this art hath a <i>direct</i> tendency to produce a neglect -or disregard of <i>worldly honours and emoluments</i> -(from the too eager appetite of which almost all the -<i>calamities</i>, as well as the more unfriendly <i>vices</i>, of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_381">381</span> -men arise) but he, whom the benign aspect of the -muse hath glanced upon and destined for her peculiar -service, is, by <i>constitution</i>, which is ever the -best security, fortified against the attacks of them. -Thus his <small>RAPTURES</small> in the enjoyment of his muse -make him overlook <i>the common accidents of life</i> -[v. 121]; <i>he is generous, open, and undesigning, -by</i> <small>NATURE</small> [v. 122]; to which we must not forget -to add, that he is <i>temperate</i>, that is to say, <i>poor</i>, -by <small>PROFESSION</small>.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><small>VIVIT SILIQUIS ET PANE SECUNDO.</small><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>II. [From v. 124 to 132.] <small>THE UTILITY OF THE -POET TO THE STATE</small>: and this both on a <i>civil</i> and -<i>moral</i> account. For, 1. the poets, whom we read -in our younger years, and from whom we learn -the <i>power of words</i>, and <i>hidden harmony of numbers</i>, -that is, as a profound Scotchman teaches, the -<i>first and most essential principles</i> of eloquence<a id="FNanchor_51" href="#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">51</a>, -enable, by degrees, and instruct their pupil to appear -with advantage, in that extensively useful capacity -of a public speaker. And, indeed, graver writers, -than our poet, have sent the orator to this school. -But the pretensions of poetry go much farther. It -delights [from v. 130 to 132] to immortalize the -triumphs of virtue: to <i>record</i> or <i>feign</i> illustrious -examples of heroic worth, for the service of the -<i>rising age</i>: and, which is the last and best fruit of -philosophy itself, it can relieve even the languor of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_382">382</span> -<i>ill-health</i>, and sustain <i>poverty</i> herself under the -scorn and insult of contumelious opulence. 2. In -a <i>moral</i> view its services are not less considerable. -(For it may be observed the <i>poet</i> was so far of a -mind with the <i>philosopher</i>, to give no quarter to -<i>immoral</i> poets). And to this end it serves, 1. [v. -127] <i>in turning the ear of youth</i> from that early -corruptor of its innocence, the seducement of a <i>loose -and impure communication</i>. 2. Next [v. 128] in -forming our riper age (which it does with all the -address and tenderness of <i>friendship</i>: <small>AMICIS</small> <i>praeceptis</i>) -<i>by the sanctity and wisdom of its precepts</i>. -And, 3. which is the proper office of <i>tragedy, in -correcting the excesses of the natural passions</i> [v. -122]. The reader who doth not turn himself to the -original, will be apt to mistake this detail of the -virtues of poetry, for an account of the Policy and -Legislation of ancient and modern times; whose -proudest boast, when the philanthropy of their enthusiastic -projectors ran at the highest, was but to -<i>prevent the impressions of vice</i>: to <i>form the mind -to habits of virtue</i>: and <i>to curb and regulate the -passions</i>.</p> - -<p>III. <span class="smcap">His services to Religion</span>. This might -well enough be said, whether by <i>religion</i> we understand -an <i>internal reverence</i> of the Gods, which -poetry first and principally intended; or their <i>popular -adoration and worship</i>, which, by its <i>fictions</i>, -as of necessity conforming to the received fancies of -superstition, it must greatly tend to promote and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_383">383</span> -establish. But the poet, artfully seizing a circumstance, -which supposes and includes in it both these -respects, renders his defence vastly interesting.</p> - -<p>All the customary <i>addresses</i> of Heathenism to -its gods, more especially on any great and solemn -emergency, were the work of the poet. For <i>nature</i>, -it seems, had taught the pagan world, what the -Hebrew Prophets themselves did not disdain to -practice, that, to lift the imagination, and, with it, -the sluggish affections of human nature, to Heaven, -it was expedient to lay hold on every assistance of -art. They therefore presented their supplications -to the Divinity in the richest and brightest dress -of eloquence, which is poetry. Not to insist, that -<i>devotion</i>, when sincere and ardent, from its very -<i>nature</i>, enkindles a glow of thought, which communicates -strongly with the transports of poetry. -Hence <i>the language of the Gods</i> (for so was poetry -accounted, as well from its being the divinest species -of communication, our rude conceptions can -well frame even for superior intelligencies, as for -that it was the fittest vehicle of our applications to -them) became not the ornament only, but an <i>essential</i> -in the ceremonial, of paganism. And this, together -with an allusion to <i>a form of public prayer</i> -(for such was his <i>secular ode</i>) composed by himself, -gives, at once, a grace and sublimity to this part of -the apology, which are perfectly inimitable.</p> - -<p>Thus hath the great poet, in the compass of a few -lines, drawn together a complete defence of his <i>art</i>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_384">384</span> -For what more could the warmest admirer of poetry, -or, because zeal is quickened by opposition, what -more could the vehement declaimer against Plato -(who proscribed it), urge in its behalf, than that it -furnishes, to the poet himself, the surest means of -<i>solitary and social</i> enjoyment: and further serves -to the most important <small>CIVIL</small>, <small>MORAL</small>, and <small>RELIGIOUS</small> -purposes?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>119.—<span class="smcap">vatis avarus Non temere est animus</span>:] -There is an unlucky Italian proverb, which says, -<i>Chi ben scrive, non sara mai ricco</i>.—The true -reason, without doubt, is here given by the poet.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>124. <span class="smcap">Militiae quamquam piger et malus</span>,] -The observation has much grace, as referring to -himself, who had acquired no credit, as a soldier, -in the civil wars of his country.—We have an example -of this misalliance between the <i>poetic</i> and <i>military</i> -character, recorded in the history of our own -civil wars, which may be just worth mentioning. -Sir P. Warwick, speaking of the famous Earl of -<i>Newcastle</i>, observes—“his edge had too much of -the razor in it, for he had a tincture of a romantic -spirit, and had the misfortune to have somewhat -of the Poet in him; so as he chose Sir William -Davenant, an eminent good poet, and loyal gentleman, -to be lieutenant-general of his ordnance. -This inclination of his own, and such kind of -witty society (to be modest in the expressions of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_385">385</span> -it) diverted many councils, and lost many opportunities, -which the nature of that affair, this great -man had now entered into, required.” <span class="smcap">Memoirs</span>, -p. 235.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>132. <span class="smcap">Castis cum pueris</span>, &c.] We have, before, -taken notice, how properly the poet, for the easier -and more successful introduction of his apology, -assumed the person <i>urbani, parcentis viribus</i>. We -see him here, in <i>that</i> of <i>Rhetoris atque Poetae</i>. -For admonished, as it were, by the rising dignity of -his subject, which led him from the <i>moral</i>, to -speak of the <i>religious</i> uses of poetry, he insensibly -drops the <i>badineur</i>, and takes an air, not of seriousness -only, but of solemnity. This change is made -with <i>art</i>. For the attention is carried from the uses -of poetry, in <i>consoling the unhappy</i>, by the easiest -transition imaginable, to the still more solemn application -of it to the <i>offices of piety</i>. And its <i>use</i> -is, to impress on the mind a stronger sense of the -weight of the poet’s plea, than could have been expected -from a more direct and continued declamation. -For this is the constant and natural effect of -knowing to pass from <i>gay</i> to <i>severe</i>, with grace and -dignity.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>169. <span class="smcap">Sed habet Comoedia tanto plus oneris, -quanto veniae minus</span>.] Tragedy, whose intention -is to <i>affect</i>, may secure what is most essential to its -<i>kind</i>, though it fail in some minuter resemblances -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_386">386</span> -of <i>nature</i>: Comedy, proposing for its main end -<i>exact representation</i>, is fundamentally defective, if -it do not perfectly succeed in it. And this explains -the ground of the poet’s observation, that Comedy -hath <i>veniae minus</i>; for he is speaking of the draught -of the <i>manners</i> only, in which respect a greater <i>indulgence</i> -is very deservedly shewn to the tragic than -comic writer. But though Tragedy hath thus far -the advantage, yet in another respect its laws are -more severe than those of Comedy; and that is in -the conduct of the <i>fable</i>. It may be asked then, -which of the two dramas is, on the whole, most -difficult. To which the answer is decisive. For -Tragedy, whose end is the <i>Pathos</i>, produces it -by <i>action</i>, while Comedy produces its end, the -<i>Humourous</i>, by <i>Character</i>. Now it is much more -difficult to paint manners, than to plan action; because -<i>that</i> requires the philosopher’s knowledge of -human nature; <i>this</i>, only the historian’s knowledge -of human events.</p> - -<p>It is true, in one sense, the <i>tragic</i> muse has <i>veniae -minus</i>; for though grave and pleasant scenes may -be indifferently represented, or even mixed together, -in comedy, yet, in tragedy, the serious and -solemn air must prevail throughout. Indeed, our -Shakespear has violated this rule, as he hath, upon -occasion, almost every other rule, of just criticism: -Whence, some writers, taking advantage of that -idolatrous admiration which is generally professed -for this great poet, and nauseating, I suppose, the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_387">387</span> -more common, though juster, forms of literary -composition, have been for turning his very transgression -of the principles of common sense, into a -standing precept for the stage. “It is said, that, if -comedy may be wholly <i>serious</i>, why may not -tragedy now and then be indulged in being <i>gay</i>?” -If these critics be in earnest in putting this question, -they need not wait long for an answer. The -<i>end</i> of comedy being <i>to paint the manners</i>, nothing -hinders (as I have shewn at large in the dissertation -<i>on the provinces of the drama</i>) but “that it may -take either character of <i>pleasant</i> or <i>serious</i>, as it -chances, or even unite them both in one piece:” -But the end of tragedy being <i>to excite the stronger -passions</i>, this discordancy in the subject breaks the -flow of those passions, and so prevents, or lessens at -least, the very effect which this drama primarily -intends. “It is said, indeed, that this contrast of -<i>grave</i> and <i>pleasant</i> scenes, heightens the <i>passion</i>:” -if it had been said that it heightens the <i>surprize</i>, -the observation had been more just. Lastly, “we -are told, that this is nature, which generally -blends together the <i>ludicrous</i>, and the <i>sublime</i>.” -But who does not know</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>That art is nature to advantage dress’d</i>;<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and that to dress out nature to <i>advantage</i> in the -present instance, that is, in a composition whose -laws are to be deduced from the consideration of its -<i>end</i>, these characters are to be kept by an artist, -perfectly distinct? -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_388">388</span></p> - -<p>However this restraint upon tragedy does not -prove that, upon the whole, it has <i>plus oneris</i>. All -I can allow, is, that either drama has <i>weight</i> enough -in all reason, for the ablest <i>shoulders</i> to sustain.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>177. <span class="smcap">Quem tulit ad Scenam ventoso gloria -curru, Exanimat lentus Spectator</span>, &c. to v. 182.] -There is an exquisite spirit of pleasantry in these -lines, which hath quite evaporated in the hands of -the critics. These have gravely supposed them to -come from the <i>person</i> of the <i>poet</i>, and to contain -his serious censure of the vanity of poetic fame. -Whereas, besides the manifest absurdity of the -thing, its inconsistency with what is delivered elsewhere -on this subject [A. P. v. 324.] where the -Greeks are commended as being <i>praeter laudem -nullius avari</i>, absolutely requires us to understand -them as proceeding from an <i>objector</i>; who, as the -poet hath very satirically contrived, is left to expose -himself in the very terms of his <i>objection</i>. He had -just been blaming the venality of the Roman dramatic -writers. They had shewn themselves more -sollicitous about <i>filling their pockets</i>, than deserving -the reputation of good poets. And, instead of -insisting further on the excellency of this <i>latter</i> -motive, he stops short, and brings in a bad poet -himself to laugh at it.</p> - -<p>“And what then, says he, you would have us -yield ourselves to the very wind and gust of praise; -and, dropping all inferior considerations, drive -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_389">389</span> -away to the expecting stage in the <i>puffed car of -vain-glory</i>? For what? To be <i>dispirited</i>, or -blown up with air, as the capricious spectator -shall think fit to enforce, or withhold, his <i>inspirations</i>. -And is this the mighty benefit of -your vaunted passion for fame? No; farewel -the stage, if the breath of others is <i>that</i>, on which -the silly bard is to depend for the contraction or -enlargement of his dimensions.” To all which -convincing rhetoric the poet condescends to say -nothing; as well knowing, that no truer service is, -oftentimes, done to virtue or good sense, than -when a knave or fool is left to himself, to employ -his idle raillery against either.</p> - -<p>These interlocutory passages, laying open the -sentiments of those against whom the poet is disputing, -are very frequent in the <i>critical and moral</i> -writings of Horace, and are well suited to their dramatic -genius and original.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>210. <span class="smcap">Ille per extentum funem</span>, &c.] The Romans, -who were immoderately addicted to spectacles -of every kind, had in particular esteem the <i>funambuli</i>, -or <i>rope-dancers</i>;</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Ita populus studio stupidus in FUNAMBULO</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Animum occuparat.</i><br /></span> -<span class="author"><span class="smcap">Prol.</span> in <span class="smcap">Hecyr.</span><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>From the admiration of whose tricks the expression, -<i>ire per extentum funem</i>, came to denote, proverbially, -<i>an uncommon degree of excellence and perfection -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_390">390</span> -in any thing</i>. The allusion is, here, made with -much pleasantry, as the poet had just been rallying -their fondness for these <i>extraordinary atchievements</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Ibid. <span class="smcap">Ille per extentum funem</span>, &c. to v. 214.] -It is observable, that Horace, here, makes his own -<i>feeling</i> the test of poetical merit. Which is said -with a philosophical exactness. For the <i>pathos</i> in -tragic, <i>humour</i> in comic, and the same holds of the -<i>sublime</i> in the narrative, and of every other <i>species</i> -of excellence in universal poetry, is the object, not of -<i>reason</i>, but <i>sentiment</i>; and can be estimated only -from its <i>impression</i> on the mind, not by any speculative -or general <i>rules</i>. Rules themselves are indeed -nothing else but an appeal to <i>experience</i>; conclusions -drawn from wide and general observation of -the aptness and efficacy of certain <i>means</i> to produce -those <i>impressions</i>. So that feeling or sentiment -itself is not only the surest, but the sole <i>ultimate</i> -arbiter of works of genius.</p> - -<p>Yet, though this be true, the <i>invention</i> of <i>general -rules</i> is not without its merit, nor the <i>application</i> -of them without its <i>use</i>, as may appear from -the following considerations.</p> - -<p>It may be affirmed, universally, of all <i>didactic -writing</i>, that it is employed in <i>referring particular -facts to general principles</i>. General principles -themselves can often be referred to others more general; -and these again carried still higher, till we -come to a <i>single</i> principle, in which all the rest are -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_391">391</span> -involved. When this is done, science of every kind -hath attained its highest perfection.</p> - -<p>The account, here given, might be illustrated -from various instances. But it will be sufficient to -confine ourselves to the single one of <i>criticism</i>; by -which I understand that <i>species</i> of didactic writing, -which <i>refers to general rules the virtues and faults -of composition</i>. And the perfection of this <i>art</i> -would consist in an ability to refer <i>every</i> beauty and -blemish to a separate class; and <i>every</i> class, by a -gradual progression, to some <i>one</i> single principle. -But the <i>art</i> is, as yet, far short of perfection. For -many of these beauties and blemishes can be referred -to no general rule at all; and the rules, which have -been discovered, seem many of them unconnected, -and not reducible to a common principle. It must -be admitted however that such critics are employed -in their proper office, as contribute to the <i>confirmation</i> -of rules already established, or the <i>invention</i> -of new ones.</p> - -<p>Rules already established are then <i>confirmed</i>, -when more <i>particulars</i> are referred to them. The -invention of <i>new</i> rules implies, 1. A <i>collection</i> of -various particulars, not yet regulated. 2. A <i>discovery</i> -of those circumstances of <i>resemblance</i> or -<i>agreement</i>, whereby they become capable of being -regulated. And 3. A subsequent <i>regulation</i> of -them, or arrangement into <i>one</i> class according to <i>such</i> -circumstances of <i>agreement</i>. When this is done, -the rule is completed. But if the critic is not able -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_392">392</span> -to observe any <i>common</i> circumstance of resemblance -in the several particulars he hath collected, by which -they may, all of them, be referred to one general -class, he hath then made no advancement in the -<i>art of criticism</i>. Yet the collection of his particular -observations may be of use to other critics; just as -collections of natural history, though no part of -philosophy, may yet assist philosophical inquirers.</p> - -<p>We see then from this general view of the matter, -that the <i>merit</i> of inventing <i>general rules</i> consists in -reducing criticism to an <i>art</i>; and that the <i>use</i> of -applying them, in practice, when the art is thus -formed, is, to direct the caprices of <i>taste</i> by the -authority of rule, which we call <i>reason</i>.</p> - -<p>And, thus much being premised, we shall now be -able to form a proper judgment of the <i>method</i>, which -some of the most admired of the ancients, as well -as moderns, have taken in this <i>work of criticizing</i>. -The most eminent, at least the most popular, are, -perhaps, Longinus, of the Greeks; P. Bouhours, -of the French; and Mr. Addison, with us in -England.</p> - -<p>1. <i>All</i> the beautiful passages, which <span class="smcap">Longinus</span> -cites, are referred by him to <i>five</i> general classes. -And 2dly, These general classes belong all to the -<i>common</i> principle of <i>sublimity</i>. He does not say -this passage is <i>excellent</i>, but assigns the <i>kind</i> of -excellence, <i>viz. sublimity</i>. Neither does he content -himself with the general notion of <i>sublimity</i>, but -names the <i>species</i>, viz. <i>Grandeur</i> of <i>sentiment</i>, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_393">393</span> -power of moving the <i>passions</i>, &c. His work -therefore enables us to <i>class</i> our perceptions of -excellence, and consequently is formed on the <i>true -plan</i> of criticism.</p> - -<p>2. The same may be observed of P. <span class="smcap">Bouhours</span>. -The passages, cited by him, are never mentioned -in <i>general</i> terms as <i>good</i> or <i>bad</i>: but are instances -of good or bad <i>sentiment</i>. This is the <i>genus</i>, in -which <i>all</i> his instances are comprehended: but of -this genus he marks also the distinct <i>species</i>. He -does not say, this sentiment is <i>good</i>; but it is <i>sublime</i>, -or <i>natural</i>, or <i>beautiful</i>, or <i>delicate</i>: or, that -another sentiment is <i>bad</i>; but that it is <i>mean</i>, or -<i>false</i>, or <i>deformed</i>, or <i>affected</i>. To these several -classes he refers his particular instances: and these -classes themselves are referred to the more comprehensive -principles of the excellence or fault of -<i>single sentiment</i>, as opposed to the various <i>other</i> -excellencies and faults, which are observed in composition.</p> - -<p>3. Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, in his <i>criticism on Milton</i>, -proceeded in like manner. For, <i>first</i>, these remarks -are evidently applicable to the general observations -on the poem; in which every thing is referred to -the common heads of <i>fable</i>, <i>morals</i>, <i>sentiments</i>, -and <i>language</i>; and even the <i>specific</i> excellencies and -faults considered under each head distinctly marked -out. <i>Secondly</i>, The same is true concerning <i>many</i> -of the observations on particular passages. The -reader is not only told, that a passage <i>has</i> merit; but -is informed what <i>sort</i> of merit belongs to it. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_394">394</span></p> - -<p>Neither are the remaining observations wholly -without use. For such particular beauties and blemishes, -as are barely <i>collected</i>, may yet serve as a -foundation to future inquirers for making further discoveries. -They may be considered as so many -<i>single</i> facts, an <i>attention</i> to which is excited by the -authority of the critic; and when these are considered -jointly with such as <i>others</i> may have observed, those -general principles of <i>similitude</i> may at length be -found, which shall enable us to constitute <i>new</i> classes -of poetical merit or blame.</p> - -<p>Thus far the candid reader may go in apologizing -for the <i>merits</i> of these writers. But, as, in sound -criticism, candour must not be indulged at the expence -of <i>justice</i>, I think myself obliged to add an -observation concerning their <i>defects</i>; and <i>that</i>, on -what I must think the just principles here delivered.</p> - -<p>Though the method, taken by these writers, be -<i>scientifical</i>, the real service they have done to criticism, -is not very considerable. And the reason -is, they dwell too much in <i>generals</i>: that is, not only -the <i>genus</i> to which they refer their <i>species</i> is too -large, but those very subordinate species themselves -are too comprehensive.</p> - -<p>Of the <i>three</i> critics, under consideration, the -most instructive is, unquestionably, <i>Longinus</i>. The -<i>genus</i> itself, under which he ranks his several -<i>classes</i>, is as <i>particular</i> as the species of the other -two. Yet even <i>his</i> classes are much too general to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_395">395</span> -convey my very distinct and useful information. It -had been still better, if this fine critic had descended -to lower and more minute <i>particularities</i>, as subordinate -to <i>each class</i>. For to observe of any <i>sentiment</i>, -that it is <i>grand</i>, or <i>pathetic</i>, and so of the -other <i>species</i>, of sublime, is saying very little. Few -readers want to be informed of this. It had been -sufficient, if any notice was to be taken at all of so -<i>general</i> beauties, to have done it in the way, which -some of the best critics have taken, of merely -pointing to them. But could he have discovered -and produced to observation those <i>peculiar</i> qualities -in <i>sentiment</i>, which occasion the impression of -<i>grandeur, pathos, &c.</i> this had been advancing the -science of criticism very much, as tending to lay -open the more secret and hidden springs of that <i>pleasure</i>, -which results from poetical composition.</p> - -<p><i>P. Bouhours</i>, as I observed, is still more faulty. -His very <i>species</i> are so large, as make his criticism -almost wholly useless and insignificant.</p> - -<p>It gives one pain to refuse to such a writer as -Mr. <i>Addison</i> any <i>kind</i> of merit, which he appears -to have valued himself upon, and which the generality -of his readers have seemed willing to allow him. -Yet it must not be dissembled, that <i>criticism</i> was -by no means his talent. His taste was truly -elegant; but he had neither that vigour of understanding, -nor chastised, philosophical spirit, which -are so essential to this character, and which we find -in hardly any of the ancients besides Aristotle, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_396">396</span> -but in a very few of the moderns. For what concerns -his <i>criticism on Milton</i> in particular, there was -this accidental benefit arising from it, that it occasioned -an admirable poet to be read, and his excellencies -to be observed. But for the merit of the -work itself, if there be any thing just in the <i>plan</i>, it -was, because Aristotle and Bossu had taken the same -route before him. And as to his <i>own</i> proper observations, -they are for the most part, so general and -indeterminate, as to afford but little instruction to the -reader, and are, not unfrequently, altogether frivolous. -They are of a kind with those, in which the French -critics (for I had rather instance in the defects of -<i>foreign</i> writers than of our <i>own</i>) so much abound; -and which good judges agree to rank in the worst sort -of criticism. To give one example for all.</p> - -<p>Cardinal <span class="smcap">Perron</span>, taking occasion to commend -certain pieces of the poet <span class="smcap">Ronsard</span>, chuses to deliver -himself in the following manner: “Prenez de -lui quelque poëme que ce soit, il paye toujours son -lecteur, et quand la verve le prend, il se guinde en -haut, il vous porte jusques dans les nuës, il vous -fait voir mille belles choses.</p> - -<p>“Que ses <i>saisons</i> sont <i>bien-faites</i>! Que la description -de la lyre a Bertaut est <i>admirable</i>! Que -le discours au ministre, <i>excellent</i>! Tous ses -hymnes sont <i>beaux</i>. Celui de l’eternité est <i>admirable</i>; -ceux des saisons <i>marveilleux</i>.” [Perroniana.]</p> - -<p>What now has the reader learned from this varied -criticism, but that his <i>Eminence</i> was indeed very -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_397">397</span> -fond of his poet; and that he esteemed these several -pieces to be (what with less expence of words he -might, in one breath, have called them) <i>well-turned</i>, -<i>beautiful</i>, <i>excellent</i>, <i>admirable</i>, <i>marvellous</i>, -poems? To have given us the true character -of <i>each</i>, and to have marked the precise <i>degree</i>, as -well as <i>kind</i>, of merit in these works, had been a -task of another nature.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>211.—<small>QUI PECTUS INANITER ANGIT</small>,] The word -<i>inaniter</i> as well as <i>falsi</i>, applied in the following -line to <i>terrores</i>, would express that wondrous force -of <i>dramatic representation</i>, which compels us to -take part in <i>feigned</i> adventures and situations, as if -they were <i>real</i>; and exercises the passions with the -same violence, in <i>remote fancied scenes</i>, as in the -<i>present distresses of real life</i>.</p> - -<p>And this is that sovereign quality in poetry, which, -as an old writer of our own naturally expresses it, is -of force <i>to hold children from play, and old men -from the chimney corner</i><a id="FNanchor_52" href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">52</a>. The poet, in the -place before us, considers it as a kind of <i>magic virtue</i>, -which transports the spectator into all <i>places</i>, -and makes him, occasionally, assume all <i>persons</i>. -The resemblance holds, also, in this, that its effects -are instantaneous and irresistible. <i>Rules</i>, <i>art</i>, <i>decorum</i>, -all fall before it. It goes directly to the -<i>heart</i>, and gains all purposes at once. Hence it is, -that, speaking of a real genius, possessed of this commanding -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_398">398</span> -power, Horace pronounces him, emphatically, -<small>THE POET</small>,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Ille per extentum funem mihi posse videtur</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Ire</i> <small>POETA</small>:<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>it being more especially this property, which, of -itself, discovers the <i>true dramatist</i>, and secures the -success of his performance, not only without the -assistance of <i>art</i>, but in direct opposition to its -clearest dictates.</p> - -<p>This power has been felt on a thousand other -occasions. But its triumphs were never more conspicuous, -than in the famous instance of the <span class="smcap">Cid</span> of -P. Corneille; which, by the sole means of this enchanting -quality, drew along with it the affections -and applauses of a whole people: notwithstanding -the manifest transgression of some essential rules, -the utmost tyranny of jealous power, and, what is -more, in defiance of all the authority and good sense -of one of the justest pieces of criticism in the French -language, written purposely to discredit and expose -it.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>224. <span class="smcap">Cum lamentamur non adparere labores -Nostros</span>, &c.] It was remarked upon verse 211, -that the beauties of a poem can only <i>appear</i> by -being felt. And <i>they</i>, to whom they do not appear -in this instance, are the writer’s own <i>friends</i>, -who, it is not to be supposed, would disguise their -<i>feelings</i>. So that the <i>lamentation</i>, here spoken of, -is at once a proof of <i>impertinence</i> in the poet, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_399">399</span> -of the <i>badness</i> of his poetry, which sets the complainant -in a very ridiculous light.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>228. <span class="smcap">Egere vetes.</span>] The poet intended, in -these words, a very just satire on those presuming -<i>wits and scholars</i>, who, under the pretence of -getting above distressful <i>want</i>, in reality aspire to -public honours and preferments; though this be the -most inexcusable of all follies (to give it the softest -name), which can infest a man of letters: Both, -because experience, on which a wise man would -chuse to regulate himself, is contrary to these -hopes; and, because if literary merit could succeed -in them, the <i>Reward</i>, as the poet speaks,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6"><i>would either bring</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>No joy, or be destructive of the thing</i>:<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>That is, the learned would either have no relish for -the delights of so widely different a situation; or, -which hath oftener been the case, would lose the -learning itself, or the <i>love</i> of it at least, on which -their pretensions to this <i>reward</i> are founded.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>232. <span class="smcap">Gratus Alexandro regi magno</span> &c.] -This praise of Augustus, arising from the comparison -of his character with that of Alexander, is extremely -fine. It had been observed of the Macedonian by -his historians and panegyrists, that, to the stern -virtues of the <i>conqueror</i>, he had joined the softer -accomplishments of the <i>virtuoso</i>, in a just discernment -and love of <i>poetry</i>, and of the <i>elegant arts</i>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_400">400</span> -The one was thought clear from his admiration and -study of Homer: And the <i>other</i>, from his famous -edict concerning Apelles and Lysippus, could not -be denied. Horace finds means to turn both these -circumstances in his story to the advantage of his -prince.</p> - -<p>From his extravagant pay of such a wretched versifier, -as <i>Choerilus</i>, he would insinuate, that Alexander’s -love of the muse was, in fact, but a blind -unintelligent impulse towards <i>glory</i>. And from -his greater skill in the arts of <i>sculpture</i> and <i>painting</i>, -than of <i>verse</i>, he represents him as more concerned -about the <i>drawing</i> of his figure, than the -pourtraiture of his <i>manners</i> and <i>mind</i>. Whereas -Augustus, by his liberalities to <i>Varius</i> and <i>Virgil</i>, -had discovered the truest taste in the <i>art</i>, from -which he expected immortality: and, in trusting to -<i>that</i>, as the <i>chief</i> instrument of his fame, had confessed -a prior regard to those <i>mental virtues</i>, which -are the real ornament of humanity, before that <i>look -of terror</i>, and <i>air and attitude of victory</i>, in which -the brute violence of Alexander most delighted to -be shewn.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>243. <span class="smcap">Musarum dona</span>] The expression is happy; -as implying, that these <i>images</i> of virtue, which are -represented as of such importance to the glory of -princes, are not the mere <i>offerings</i> of poetry to -greatness, but the <i>free-gifts</i> of the muse to the -poet. For it is only to such <i>works</i>, as these, that -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_401">401</span> -Horace attributes the wondrous efficacy of expressing -the <i>manners and mind</i> in fuller and more durable -relief, than <i>sculpture</i> gives to the <i>exterior -figure</i>.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Non magis expressi vultus per aënea signa,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Quam per vatis opus mores animique virorum</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Clarorum adparent.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>247.—<span class="smcap">Virgilius.</span>] Virgil is mentioned, in this -place, simply as a <i>Poet</i>. The precise idea of his -<i>poetry</i> is given us elsewhere.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6"><i>molle atque facetum</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Virgilio annuerunt gaudentes rure Camoenae.</i><br /></span> -<span class="author">1 Sat. x. 44.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But this may appear a strange praise of the sweet -and polished Virgil. It appeared so to Quinctilian, -who cites this passage, and explains it, without -doubt, very justly, yet in such a way as shews that -he was not quite certain of the truth of his explanation.</p> - -<p>The case, I believe, was this. The word <i>facetum</i>, -which makes the difficulty, had acquired, in Quinctilian’s -days, the sense of <i>pleasant</i>, <i>witty</i>, or <i>facetious</i>, -<i>in exclusion</i> to every other idea, which had -formerly belonged to it. It is true that, in the Augustan -age, and still earlier, <i>facetum</i> was sometimes -used in this sense. But its proper and original -meaning was no more than <i>exact</i>, <i>factitatum, benè -factum</i>. And in this strict sense, I believe, it is -always used by Horace. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_402">402</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Malthinus tunicis demissis ambulat: est qui</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Inguen ad obscoenum subductis usque facetus.</i><br /></span> -<span class="author">1 S. ii. 25.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>i. e. <i>tucked up, trim, expedite</i>.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Mutatis tantùm pedibus numerisque facetus.</i><br /></span> -<span class="author">1 S. iv. 7.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>i. e. he [Lucilius] adopted a <i>stricter</i> measure, than -the writers of the old comedy; or, by changing the -loose iambic to the Hexameter verse, he gave a proof -of his <i>art</i>, <i>skill</i>, and <i>improved judgment</i>.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10"><i>frater, pater, adde;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Ut cuique est aetas, ita quemque facetus adopta.</i><br /></span> -<span class="author">1. Ep. vi. 55.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>i. e. <i>nicely</i> and <i>accurately</i> adapt your address to -the age and condition of each.</p> - -<p>I do not recollect any other place where <i>facetus</i> -is used by Horace; and in all these it seems probable -to me that the principal idea, conveyed by it, -is that of <i>care</i>, <i>art</i>, <i>skill</i>, only differently modified according -to the subject to which it is applied: a gown -tucked up <i>with care</i>—a measure <i>studiously</i> affected—an -address <i>nicely</i> accommodated—No -thought of <i>ridicule</i> or <i>pleasantry</i> intended.</p> - -<p>It is the same in the present instance—</p> - -<p class="author"> -<small>MOLLE ATQUE FACETUM</small><br /> -</p> - -<p>i. e. <i>a soft flowing versification</i>, and <i>an exquisitely -finished expression</i>: the two precise, characteristic -merits of Virgil’s <i>rural</i> poetry.</p> - -<p>This change, in the sense of words, is common -in all languages, and creeps in so gradually and imperceptibly -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_403">403</span> -as to elude the notice, sometimes, of -the best critics, even in their own language. The -transition of ideas, in the present instance, may be -traced thus. As what was <i>wittily</i> said, was most -<i>studied</i>, <i>artificial</i>, and <i>exquisite</i>, hence in process -of time <i>facetum</i> lost its primary sense, and came to -signify merely, <i>witty</i>.</p> - -<p>We have a like example in our own language. -A <i>good wit</i> meant formerly a man of good natural -sense and understanding: but because what we now -call <i>wit</i> was observed to be the flower and quintessence, -as it were, of good sense, hence <i>a man of -wit</i> is now the exclusive attribute of one who exerts -his good sense in that peculiar manner.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>247. <span class="smcap">Dilecti tibi Virgilius</span> &c.] It does honour -to the memory of Augustus, that he bore the -<i>affection</i>, here spoken of, to this amiable poet; -who was not more distinguished from his contemporary -writers by the force of an original, inventive -genius, than the singular benevolence and humanity -of his character. Yet there have been critics of so -perverse a turn, as to discover an inclination, at -least, of disputing both.</p> - -<p>1. Some have taken offence at his supposed unfriendly -neglect of Horace, who, on every occasion, -shewed himself so ready to lavish all his praises on -him. But the folly of this slander is of a piece -with its malignity, as proceeding on the absurd -fancy, that Virgil’s friends might as easily have slid -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_404">404</span> -into such works, as the Georgics and Eneïs, as those -of Horace into the various occasional poems, which -employed his pen.</p> - -<p>Just such another senseless suspicion hath been -raised of his jealousy of Homer’s superior glory (a -vice, from which the nature of the great poet was -singularly abhorrent), only, because he did not -think fit to give him the first place among the poets -in <i>Elysium</i>, several hundred years before he had so -much as made his appearance upon <i>earth</i>.</p> - -<p>But these petty calumnies of his <i>moral</i> character -hardly deserve a confutation. What some greater -authorities have objected to his <i>poetical</i>, may be -thought more serious. For,</p> - -<p>2. It has been given out by some of better note -among the moderns, and from thence, according to -the customary influence of authority, hath become -the prevailing sentiment of the generality of the -learned, that the great poet was more indebted for -his fame to the <i>exactness of his judgment; to his -industry, and a certain trick of imitation</i>, than to -the energy of natural genius; which he is thought -to have possessed in a very slender degree.</p> - -<p>This charge is founded on the similitude, which -all acknowledge, betwixt his great work, the Aeneis, -and the poems of Homer. But, “how far such similitude -infers imitation; or, how far imitation itself -infers an inferiority of natural genius in the imitator,” -this hath never been considered. In short -the affair of <i>imitation</i> in poetry, though one of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_405">405</span> -most curious and interesting in all criticism, hath -been, hitherto, very little understood: as may appear -from hence, that there is not, as far as I can -learn, one single treatise, now extant, written purposely -to explain it; the discourse, which the learned -<i>Menage</i> intended, and which, doubtless, would -have given light to this matter, having never, as I -know of, been made public. To supply, in some -measure, this loss, I have thought it not amiss to -put together and methodize a few reflexions of my -own on this subject, which (because the matter is -large, and cannot easily be drawn into a compass, -that suits with the nature of these occasional remarks) -the reader will find in a distinct and separate -dissertation upon it<a id="FNanchor_53" href="#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">53</a>.</p> - -<h3>CONCLUSION.</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">And</span>, now, having explained, in the best manner -I could, the two famous Epistles of Horace to Augustus -and the Pisos, it may be expected, in conclusion, -that I should say something of the rest of -our poet’s critical writings. For his <i>Sermones</i> (under -which general term I include his <i>Epistles</i>) are -of two sorts, <span class="smcap">Moral</span> and <span class="smcap">Critical</span>; and, though -both are exquisite, the <i>latter</i> are perhaps, in their -kind, the more perfect of the two; his <i>moral</i> principles -being sometimes, I believe, liable to exception, -his <i>critical</i>, never. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_406">406</span></p> - -<p>The two pieces, illustrated in these volumes, are -<i>strictly</i> critical: the <i>first</i>, being a professed criticism -of the Roman drama; and the <i>last</i>, in order -to their vindication, of the Roman poets. The rest -of his works, which turn upon this subject of criticism, -may be rather termed <i>Apologetical</i>. They -are the <small>IV</small><sup>th</sup> and <small>X</small><sup>th</sup> of the <span class="smcap">First</span>, and <small>I</small><sup>st</sup> of the <span class="smcap">Second</span> -book of Satires; and the <small>XIX</small><sup>th</sup> of the <span class="smcap">First</span>, -and, in part, the <small>II</small><sup>d</sup> of the <span class="smcap">Second</span> book of Epistles.</p> - -<p>In <i>these</i>, the poet has <small>THREE</small> great objects; one -or other of which he never loses sight of, and generally -he prosecutes them all together, in the same -piece. These objects are, 1. to vindicate the way -of writing in satire. 2. To justify his opinion of a -favourite writer of this class, the celebrated Lucilius. -And 3. to expose the careless and incorrect composition -of the Roman writers.</p> - -<p>He was himself deeply concerned in these three -articles; so that he makes his own apology at the -same time that he criticizes or censures others. -The <i>address</i> of the poet’s manner will be seen by -bearing in mind this general purpose of his critical -poetry. How he came to be <i>engaged</i> in this controversy, -will best appear from a few observations on -the state of the Roman learning, when he undertook -to contribute his pains to the improvement of it.</p> - -<p>I have, in the introduction to the first of these -volumes, given a slight sketch of the rise and progress -of the Roman satire. This poem, was purely of -Roman invention: <i>first of all</i>, struck out of the old -fescennine farce, and rudely cultivated, by Ennius: -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_407">407</span> -<i>Next</i>, more happily treated, and enriched with the -best part of the old comedy, by Lucilius: And, after -some succeeding essays, taken up and finally -adorned, by Horace.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Horace</span> was well known to the public by his lyric -compositions, and still more perhaps by his favour -at court, when he took upon him to correct the -manners and taste of his age, by his <i>Lucilian -Satires</i>. But, here, he encountered, at once, -many prejudices; and all his own credit, together -with that of his court-friends, was little enough to -support him, against the torrent.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">First</span>, the kind of writing itself was sure to give -offence. For, though men were well enough pleased -to have their natural malignity gratified by an old -poet’s satire against a <i>former</i> age, yet they were naturally -alarmed at the exercise of this talent upon their -<i>own</i>, and, as it might chance, upon themselves.</p> - -<p>The poet’s eminence, and favour, would, besides, -give a peculiar force and <i>effect</i> to his censures, so -that all who found, or thought themselves liable to -them, were concerned, in interest, to discredit the -attempt, and blast his rising reputation.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Omnes hi metuunt versus, odere</i> <small>POETAM</small>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Hence, he was constrained to stand upon his own -defence, and to vindicate, as well the thing itself, -as his management of it, to the tender and suspicious -public.</p> - -<p>But this was not all: For, <span class="smcap">Secondly</span>, an old -satirist, of high birth and quality, <span class="smcap">Lucilius</span>, was -considered, not only as an able writer of this class, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_408">408</span> -but as a perfect model in it; and of course, therefore, -this new satirist would be much decried and -undervalued, on the comparison. This circumstance -obliged the poet to reduce this admired -writer to his real value; which could not be done -without thwarting the general admiration, and -pointing out his vices and defects in the freest -manner. This perilous task he discharged in the -<small>IV</small><sup>th</sup> satire of his first book, and with such rigour of -criticism, that not only the partizans of Lucilius, in -the poet’s own age, but the most knowing and candid -critics of succeeding times, were disposed to complain -of it. However, the obnoxious step had been -taken; and nothing remained but to justify himself, -as he hath done at large, in his <small>X</small><sup>th</sup> satire.</p> - -<p>On the whole, in comparing what he has said in -these two satires with what Quinctilian long after -observed on the subject of them, there seems no -reason to conclude, that the poet judged ill; -though he expressed his judgment in such terms as -he would, no doubt, have something softened (out -of complaisance to the general sentiment, and a -becoming deference to the real merits of his master), -if his adversaries had been more moderate in urging -their charge, or if the occasion had not been so -pressing.</p> - -<p><i>Lastly</i>, this attack on Lucilius produced, or -rather involved in it, a <small>THIRD</small> quarrel. The poet’s -main objection to Lucilius was his careless, verbose, -and hasty composition, which his admirers, no -doubt, called genius, grace, and strength. This -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_409">409</span> -being an inveterate folly among his countrymen, he -gives it no quarter. Through all his critical works, -he employs the utmost force of his wit and good -sense to expose it: And his own writings, being at -the same time supremely correct, afforded his enemies -(which would provoke them still more) no -advantage against him. Yet they attempted, as -they could, to repay his perpetual reproaches on the -popular writers for their neglect of <i>limae labor</i>, by -objecting to him, in their turn, that what he wrote -was <i>sine nervis</i>: and this, though they felt his <i>force</i> -themselves, and though another set of men were -complaining, at the same time, of his severity.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Sunt quibus in satyrâ videor nimis</i> <small>ACER</small>—<br /></span> -<span class="i20"><small>SINE NERVIS</small> <i>altera quicquid</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Composui pars esse putat, similesque meorum</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mille die versus <i>deduci posse</i>—<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>His detractors satirically alluding, in these last words, -to his charge against Lucilius—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i30">in horâ <i>saepè</i> ducentos,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Ut magnum</i>, versus <i>dictabat, stans pede in uno</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It is not my purpose, in this place, to enlarge -further on the character of Lucilius, whose <i>wordy</i> -satires gave occasion to our poet’s criticism. Several -of the ancient writers speak of him occasionally, -in terms of the highest applause; and without doubt, -he was a poet of distinguished merit. Yet it will -hardly be thought, at this day, that it could be any -discredit to him to be censured, rivalled, and excelled -by Horace. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_410">410</span></p> - -<p>What I have here put together is only to furnish -the young reader with the proper <span class="smcap">Key</span> to Horace’s -critical works, which generally turn on his own -vindication, <i>against the enemies of satire</i>—<i>the -admirers of Lucilius</i>—<i>and the patrons of loose -and incorrect composition</i>.</p> - -<p>In managing these several topics, he has found -means to introduce a great deal of exquisite criticism. -And though his scattered observations go but a -little way towards making up a complete critical -system, yet they are so <i>luminous</i>, as the French -speak, that is, they are so replete with good sense, -and extend so much further than to the case to which -they are immediately applied, that they furnish -many of the principles on which such a system, if -ever it be taken in hand, must be constructed: And, -without carrying matters too far, we may safely -affirm of these <i>Critical Discourses</i>, that, next to -Aristotle’s immortal work, they are the most valuable -remains of ancient art upon this subject.</p> - -<h4><i>The End of the Notes on the Epistle to</i> <span class="smcap">Augustus</span>.</h4> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<h3>THE END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.</h3> - -<p class="copy"> -J. Nichols and Son, Printers,<br /> -Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London.<br /> -</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<h2 id="FOOTNOTES">FOOTNOTES:</h2> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">1</a> -[A Cross with the initials on a label—I. N. R. I. -a Glory above, and the motto below ΕΚ ΠΙΣΤΕΩΣ.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">2</a> -“We, the Bishop and Dean and Chapter and -Clergy of the Church and Diocese of Worcester, -humbly beg leave to present our dutiful respects to -your Majesty, and to express the joy we feel on -your Majesty’s arrival at this place.</p> - -<p>“Your presence, Sir, gladdens the hearts of -your faithful subjects, wherever you go. But We, -the Clergy of this place, have a peculiar cause to -rejoice in the honour vouchsafed us at this time; a -time, devoted to an excellent charity for the relief -of a most deserving, though unfortunate part of our -Order. This gracious notice and countenance of -us at such a moment, shews, as your whole life has -invariably done, your zealous concern for the interests -of Religion, and the credit of its Ministers. -And we trust, Sir, that we entertain a due sense of -this goodness; and that we shall never be wanting -in the most dutiful attachment to your Majesty’s -sacred person, to your august house, and to your -mild and beneficent government.</p> - -<p>“In our daily celebration of the sacred offices, -committed to our charge, we make it our fervent -prayer to Almighty God, that He will be pleased to -take your Majesty into his special protection; and -that your Majesty may live long, very long, in health -and honour, to be the blessing and the delight of all -your people.”</p> - -<p>[The above is the substance, and I believe the -words, of my address to the King at Worcester, 6th -August 1788.]</p> - -<p>To this address his Majesty was pleased to return -an answer, very gracious, personally, to the Bishop -himself, and expressive of the highest regard for the -Clergy of the Established Church.</p> - -<p class="author">R. W.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">3</a> -[Edward Foley, Esq. Member of Parliament -for the County, and William Langford, D. D. late -Prebendary of Worcester.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">4</a> -The Reverend Mr. <span class="smcap">Budworth</span>, Head-Master of the Grammar -School at <span class="smcap">Brewood</span>, in Staffordshire. He died in 1745.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">5</a> -Satyra hæc est in sui sæculi poetas, <small>PRÆCIPUE</small> vero in Romanum -drama. Baxter.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">6</a> -Præf. in <small>LIB. POET.</small> et l. vi. p. 338.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">7</a> -<i>Mærorem minui</i>, says Tully, grieving for the loss of his -daughter, <i>dolorem nec potui, nec, si possem</i>, <small>VELLEM</small>. [Ep. ad -Att. xii. 28.] A striking picture of real grief!</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">8</a></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Vel tibi composita cantetur</i> <span class="smcap">Epistola</span> <i>voce</i>;<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ignotum hoc aliis ille novavit opus</span>.<br /></span> -<span class="author"><span class="smcap">Art. Amat.</span> l. iii. v. 345.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">9</a> -J. Scaliger says, <i>Epistolas, Græcorum more, Phocylidæ atque -Theognidis</i> [Horatius] <i>scripsit: præceptis philosophiæ divulsis minimeque -inter se cohærentibus</i>. And of <i>this</i> Epistle, in particular, -he presumes to say, <i>De Arte quæres quid sentiam. Quid? Equidem -quod de Arte sine arte traditâ.</i> And to the same purpose -another great Critic; <i>Non solum antiquorum ὑποθηκαι in moralibus -hoc habuere, ut ἀκολουθίαν non servarent, sed etiam alia de quibuscunque -rebus præcepta. Sic Epistola Horatii ad Pisones de Poëticâ -perpetuum ordinem seriemque</i> <small>NULLAM</small> <i>habet; sed ab uno præcepto -ad aliud transilit, quamvis</i> <small>NULLA</small> <i>sit materiæ affinitas ad -sensum connectendum.</i> [Salmasii Not. in Epictetum et Simplicium, -p. 13. <i>Lugd. Bat.</i> 1640.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">10</a> -See <i>Victor. Comm. in Dem. Phaler.</i> p. 73. <i>Florent.</i> 1594.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">11</a> -The reader may see a fine speech in the Cyropædia of Xenophon -[l. iv.] where not so much as this is observed.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">12</a> -See <i>Robert Stephens’s Fragm. Vet. Latinorum</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">13</a> -Sir <i>Philip Sidney</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">14</a> -<i>Quel avantage ne peut il [le poëte] pas tirer d’une troupe d’acteurs, -qui remplissent sa scene, qui rendent plus sensible la continuité -de l’action, et qui la font paroitre</i> <small>VRAISEMBLABLE</small>, <i>puisqu’il n’est -pas naturel qu’elle se passe sans temoins. On ne sent que trop le -vuide de notre Théatre sans chœurs, &c.</i> [Le Théatre des Grecs, -vol. i. p. 105.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">15</a> -See also to the same purpose P. Corneille’s <i>Exam. sur la -Medée</i>. If the objection, made by these critics, to the part of -the chorus, be, <i>the improbability</i>, as was explained at large in the -preceding note, <i>of a slave’s taking the side of virtue against the -pleasure of his tyrant</i>, the manifest difference of the two cases -will shew it to be without the least foundation. For 1. the chorus -in the Medea consists of women, whom compassion and a -secret jealousy and indignation at so flagrant an instance of the -violated faith of marriage, attach, by the most natural connexion -of interests, to the cause and person of the injured queen. In -the Antigone, it is composed of old courtiers, devoted, by an -habitude of slavery, to the will of a master, assembled, by his -express appointment, as creatures of his tyranny, and, prompted, -by no strong movements of self-love, to take part against him. -2. In the Antigone, the part of Creon is <i>principal</i>. Every step, -in the progress of the play, depends so immediately upon him, -that he is almost constantly upon the stage. No reflexions could -therefore be made by the chorus, nor any part against him be undertaken, -but directly in his presence, and at their own manifest -hazard. The very reverse of this is the case in the Medea. Creon -is there but a subaltern person—has a very small part assigned -him in the conduct of the play—is, in fact, introduced upon the -stage but in one single scene. The different situation of the chorus, -resulting from hence, gives occasion for the widest difference -in their conduct. They may speak their resentments freely. -Unawed by the frowns and menaces of their tyrant, they are left -at liberty to follow the suggestions of virtue. Nothing here -offends against the law of probability, or, in the least, contradicts -the reasoning about the chorus in the Antigone.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">16</a> -See note on v. 127.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">17</a> -<i>For her own sake</i>, as is pleaded, <i>and in obedience to the laws</i>,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Σέ τ’ ὠφελεῖν θέλουσα, καὶ νόμοις βροτῶν<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ξυλλαμβάνουσα, δρᾷν σ’ ἀπεννέπω τάδε.<br /></span> -<span class="author">v. 812.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>which shews, that the other murders were not against the spirit -of the laws, whatever became of the letter of them.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">18</a> -P. Brumoy, Disc. sur le parall. des Theat. p. 165. Amst. -1732.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">19</a> -<i>Imitations of Horace</i> by Thomas Nevile, M. A. Fellow of -Jesus College, Cambridge, 1758.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">20</a> -There is a considerable difference in the copies of this ode, -as given us in the best editions of Athenæus and Diogenes Laertius. -But the <small>SIXTH</small> verse is, in all of them, so inexplicable, in -respect of the <i>measure</i>, the <i>construction</i>, and the <i>sense</i>, that I -have no doubt of its being extremely corrupt. In such a case -one may be indulged in making conjectures. And the following -one, by a learned person, exactly skilled in the proprieties as -well as elegancies of the Greek language, is so reasonable, that -I had almost ventured to give it a place in the text.</p> - -<p>The Poet had been celebrating v. 3. the divine <i>form</i> of virtue; -which inspired the Grecian youth with an invincible courage and -contempt of danger. It was natural therefore to conclude his -panegyric with some such Epiphonema as this: “Such a passion -do’st thou kindle up in the minds of men!”</p> - -<p>To justify this passion, he next turns to the <i>fruits</i>, or advantages -which virtue yields; which, he tells us, are more excellent -than those we receive from any other possession, whether of -<i>wealth</i>, <i>nobility</i>, or <i>ease</i>, the three great idols of mankind. -Something like this we collect from the obscure glimmerings of -sense that occur to us from the common reading,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Τοῖον ἐπὶ φρένα βάλλεις καρπόν τ’ εἰς ἀθάνατον,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Χρυσοῦ τε κρέσσω, &c.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But it is plain, then, that a very material word must have -dropt out of the <i>first</i> part of the line, and that there is an evident -corruption in the <i>last</i>. In a word, the whole passage may -be reformed thus,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Τοῖον ἐπὶ φρέν’ ἜΡΩΤΑ βάλλεις.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Καρπὸν ΦΕΡΕΙΣ ἀθάνατον<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Χρυσοῦ τε κρέσσω καὶ γονέων,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Μαλακαυγητοῖό θ’ ὕπνου.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It need not be observed how easily καρπὸν ΤΕΕΙΣ is changed -into καρπὸν ΦΕΡΕΙΣ: And as to the restored word ἔρωτα, besides -the necessity of it to complete the sense, it exactly suits with -σοῖς τε πόθοις in v. 12. Lastly, the <i>measure</i> will now sufficiently -justify itself to the learned reader.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="label">21</a> -<i>Agite, fugite, quatite, Satyri</i>: A verse cited from one of -these Latin satyrs by Marius Victorinus.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="label">22</a> -This, I think, must be the interpretation of <i>sensibus celebrem</i>, -supposing it to be the true reading. But a learned critic -has shewn with great appearance of reason, that the text is corrupt -and should be reformed into <i>sensibus</i> <small>CELEREM</small>. According -to which reading the encomium here past on Pomponius must -be understood of his <i>Wit</i>, and not the gravity of his moral Sentences. -Either way his title to the honour of Invention is just -the same.—See a Specimen of a new Edition of Paterculus in -<span class="smcap">Bibliotheque Britannique</span>, <i>Juillet, &c.</i> 1736.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="label">23</a> -In the library of Emmanuel College, Cambridge.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="label">24</a> -Mr. Hume, <span class="smcap">Of Simplicity and Refinement</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25" class="label">25</a> -And no wonder, when, as Suetonius tells us, the emperor -himself was so delighted with the old comedy. [c. 89.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26" class="label">26</a> -This is further confirmed from Lucian, who, in the description -of a splendid feast in his ΑΛΕΚΤΡΥΩΝ, and in the <i>Symposium -of his</i> ΛΑΠΙΘΑΙ, brings in the ΓΕΛΩΤΟΠΟΙΟΙ as necessary -attendants on the entertainment.—But the reader will not take -what is said of the <i>fine satyr</i> of Xenophon’s Symposium, who hath -not observed, that this sort of compositions, which were in great -credit with the ancients, are of the nature of dramas, ΗΘΙΚΟΙ -ΛΟΓΟΙ, as Aristotle would call them. In which the dialogists, -who are real personages as in the <i>old comedy</i>, give a lively, and -sometimes exaggerated expression of their own characters. Under -this <i>idea</i> of a Symposium we are prepared to expect <i>bad</i> characters -as well as <i>good</i>. Nothing in the <i>kind</i> of composition itself confined -the writer to the <i>latter</i>; and the decorum of a <i>festal conversation</i>, -which, in a republic especially, would have a mixture of -satyr in it, seemed to demand the <i>former</i>. We see then the undoubted -purpose of Xenophon in the persons of his <small>JESTER</small> and -<span class="smcap">Syracusian</span>; and of Plato, in those of <span class="smcap">Aristophanes</span> and some -others. Where we may further take notice, that, to prevent -the abuse and misconstruction, to which these personated discourses -are ever liable, Socrates is brought in to correct the looseness -of them, in both dialogues, and in some measure doth the -office of the dramatic chorus, <small>BONIS FAVENDI</small>. But it is the less -strange that the moderns have not apprehended the genius of -these <i>Symposia</i>, when Athenæus, who professedly criticises them, -and one would think, had a better opportunity of knowing their -real character, hath betrayed the grossest ignorance about -them.—I can but just hint these things, which might afford -curious matter for a dissertation. But enough is said to let the -intelligent reader into the true secret of these <i>convivial dialogues</i>, -and to explane the ground of the encomium here passed upon -<i>one</i> of them.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27" class="label">27</a> -“L’étude égale des poëtes de différens tems à plaire à leurs -spectateurs, a encore influé dans la maniere de peindre les characters. -Ceux qui paroissent sur la scene Angloise, Espagnole, -Françoise, sont plus Anglois, Espagnols, ou François que -Grecs ou Romains, en un mot que ce qu’ils doivent être. Il -ne faut qu’en peu discernement pour s’appercevoir que nos -Césars et nos Achilles, en gardant même une partie de leur -caractere primitif, prennent droit de naturalité dans le païs -où ils sont transplantez, semblables à ces portraits, qui sortent -de la main d’un peintre Flamand, Italien, ou François, et -qui portent l’empreinte du païs. On veut plaire à sa nation, -et rien ne plait tant que la resemblance de manieres et de -genie.” [P. Brumoy, vol. i. p. 200.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28" class="label">28</a> -<span class="smcap">Dionys. Halicarn Ep. ad C. Pomp.</span> p. 205. <i>Edit. Huds.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29" class="label">29</a> -In conformity with the <i>Antique</i>. <i>Nec enim Phidias, cum -faceret Jovis formam aut Minervæ, contemplabatur aliquem e quo -similitudinem duceret: sed ipsius in mente incidebat</i> species pulchritudinis -eximia quædam, <i>quam intuens in eaque defixus ad illius -similitudinem artem et manum dirigebat</i> [Cic. Orat. 2.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30" class="label">30</a> -Sir <i>William Temple</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31" class="label">31</a> -ἼΩΝ.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32" class="label">32</a> -Pope’s Works, vol. V. p. 244. 8<sup>vo</sup>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33" class="label">33</a> -Quinctilian, lib. xi. c. 1.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34" class="label">34</a> -Θεῷ ἀνικήτῳ ἐπιγράψαντες. Though, to complete the farce, -it was with the greatest shyness and reluctance, that the humility -of these lords of the universe could permit itself to accept the -ensigns of deity, as the court-historians of those times are forward -to inform us. An affectation, which was thought to sit so well -upon them, that we find it afterwards practised, in the absurdest -and most impudent manner, by the worst of their successors.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_35" href="#FNanchor_35" class="label">35</a> -See a learned and accurate dissertation on the subject in -<span class="smcap">Hist. de l’acad. des inscr.</span> &c. tom. i.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_36" href="#FNanchor_36" class="label">36</a> -<span class="smcap">Div. Leg.</span> vol. i. B. ii. S. 4.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_37" href="#FNanchor_37" class="label">37</a> - In these lines,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Mox tamen ardentes accingar dicere pugnas</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Caesaris, et nomen famâ tot ferre per annos,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Tithoni primâ quot abest ab origine Caesar</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Which I suspect not to have been from the hand of Virgil. And,</p> - -<p>I. On account of some <i>peculiarities in the expression</i>.</p> - -<p>1. <i>Accingar</i> is of frequent use in the best authors, to denote <i>a -readiness and resolution to do any thing</i>; but as joined with an -<i>infinitive mood, accingar dicere</i>, I do not remember to have ever -seen it. ’Tis often used by Virgil, but, if the several places be -consulted, it will always be found with an <i>accusative</i> and <i>preposition</i>, -expressed, or understood, as <i>magicas accingier artes</i>, or with -an <i>accusative</i> and <i>dative</i>, as <i>accingere se praedae</i>, or lastly, with -an <i>ablative</i>, expressing the <i>instrument</i>, as <i>accingor ferro</i>. <span class="smcap">La -Cerda</span>, in his notes upon the place, seemed sensible of the objection, -and therefore wrote, <i>Graeca locutio</i>: the common, but -paltry, shift of learned critics, when they determine, at any rate, -to support an ancient reading.</p> - -<p>2. <i>Ardentes pugnas</i>, <i>burning battles</i>, sounds well enough to a -modern ear, but I much doubt, if it would have passed in the -times of Virgil. At least, I recollect no such expression in all -his works; <i>ardens</i> being constantly joined to a word, denoting a -<i>substance</i> of apparent <i>light</i>, <i>heat</i>, or <i>flame</i>, to which the allusion -is easy, as <i>ardentes gladios</i>, <i>ardentes oculos</i>, <i>campos armis sublimibus -ardentes</i>, and, by an easy metaphor, <i>ardentes hostes</i>, but no -where, that I can find, to so <i>abstract</i> a notion, as that of <i>fight</i>. -It seems to be to avoid this difficulty, that some have chosen to -read <i>ardentis</i>, in the <i>genitive</i>, which yet Servius rejects as of no -authority.</p> - -<p>3. But the most glaring note of illegitimacy is in the line,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Tithoni primâ quot abest ab origine Caesar</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It has puzzled all the commentators from old Servius down to the -learned Mr. Martyn, to give any tolerable account of the poet’s -choice of <i>Tithonus</i>, from whom to derive the ancestry of Augustus, -rather than <i>Anchises</i>, or <i>Assaracus</i>, who were not only more famous, -but in the <i>direct</i> line. The pretences of any or all of them -are too frivolous to make it necessary to spend a thought about -them. The instance stands single in antiquity: much less is -there any thing like it to be found in the Augustan poets.</p> - -<p>II. But the <i>phraseology</i> of these lines is the least of my objection. -Were it ever so accurate, there is besides, on the first view, -a manifest absurdity in the <i>subject-matter</i> of them. For would -any writer, of but common skill in the art of composition, close -a long and elaborate allegory, the principal grace of which consists -in its very mystery, with a cold, and formal explanation of it? -Or would he pay so poor a compliment to his patron, as to -suppose his sagacity wanted the assistance of this additional -triplet to lead him into the true meaning? Nothing can be -more abhorrent from the usual address and artifice of Virgil’s -manner. Or,</p> - -<p>III. Were the <i>subject-matter</i> itself passable, yet, how, in -defiance of all the laws of <i>disposition</i>, came it to be <i>forced</i> in here? -Let the reader turn to the passage, and he will soon perceive, -that this could never be the <i>place</i> for it. The allegory being -concluded, the poet returns to his subject, which is proposed in -the six following lines:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Intereà Dryadum sylvas, saltusque sequamur</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Intactos, tua, Maecenas, haud mollia jussa;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Te sine nil altum mens inchoat: en age segnes</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Rumpe moras; vocat ingenti clamore Cithaeron,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Taygetique canes, domitrixque Epidaurus equorum,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Et vox assensu nemorum ingeminata remugit</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Would now any one expect, that the poet, after having conducted -the reader, thus respectfully, to the very threshold of -his subject, should immediately run away again to the point, -from which he had set out, and this on so needless an errand, -as the letting him into the secret of his allegory?</p> - -<p>But this inserted triplet agrees as ill with what <i>follows</i>, as with -what <i>precedes</i> it. For how abrupt is the transition, and unlike -the delicate connexion, so studiously contrived by the Augustan -poets, from</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Tithoni primâ quot abest ab origine Caesar</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>to</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Seu quis Olympiacae miratus praemia palmae</i>, &c.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>When omit but these interpolated lines, and see how gracefully, -and by how natural a succession of ideas, the poet slides into the -main of his subject.—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Intereà Dryadum silvas saltusque sequamur</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Intactos</i>—<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Te sine nil</i>—<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Rumpe moras: vocat ingenti clamore Cithaeron</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Taygetique canes, domitrixque Epidaurus</i> <small>EQUORUM</small>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Et vox assensu nemorum ingeminata</i> <small>REMUGIT</small>.<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Seu quis Olympiacae miratus praemia palmae</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Pascit</i> <small>EQUOS</small>; <i>seu quis fortes ad aratra</i> <small>JUVENCOS</small>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>On the whole, I have not the least doubt, that the lines before -us are the spurious offspring of some <i>later poet</i>; if indeed the -writer of them deserve that name; for, whoever he was, he is so -far from partaking of the original spirit of Virgil, that, at most -he appears to have been but a servile and paltry mimic of Ovid; -from the opening of whose Metamorphosis the design was clearly -taken. The turn of the thought is evidently the same in both, -and even the expression. <i>Mutatas dicere formas</i> is echoed by -<i>ardentes dicere pugnas</i>: <i>dicere fert animus</i>, is, by an affected -improvement, <i>accingar dicere</i>: and <i>Tithoni primâ ab origine</i> is -almost literally the same as <i>primâque ab origine mundi</i>. For the -<i>insertion</i> of these lines in this place, I leave it to the curious to -conjecture of it, as they may: but in the mean time, must -esteem the office of the true <i>critic</i> to be so far resembling that of -the <i>poet</i> himself, as, within some proper limitations, to justify the -<i>honest</i> liberty here taken.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Cum tabulis animum censoris sumet honesti;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Audebit quaecunque parum splendoris habebunt</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Et sine pondere erunt, et honore indigne feruntur</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Verba movere loco; quamvis invita recedant,</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Et versentur adhuc intra penetralia Vestae.</span><br /></span> - -<span class="author">[2 Ep. ii. 110.]</span></div></div></div></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_38" href="#FNanchor_38" class="label">38</a> -[B. ix. v. 641.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_39" href="#FNanchor_39" class="label">39</a> -<i>Notes on the story of Phaëton.</i> [v. 23.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_40" href="#FNanchor_40" class="label">40</a> -<span class="smcap">Jacobi Philippi D’ Orville</span> <i>Animadversiones in</i> <span class="smcap">Charit. -Aphrod.</span> lib. iv. c. 4.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_41" href="#FNanchor_41" class="label">41</a> -Ibid. vol. ii. p. 325.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_42" href="#FNanchor_42" class="label">42</a> -D. L. vol. ii. p. 644.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_43" href="#FNanchor_43" class="label">43</a> -At inspiciamus porrò, quid alii, <i>quibus correctius sapit</i>, de -hoc loquendi modo <small>CENSUERINT</small>. Agnoscunt enim, etc. p. 299.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_44" href="#FNanchor_44" class="label">44</a> -Ibid.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_45" href="#FNanchor_45" class="label">45</a> -v. 437.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_46" href="#FNanchor_46" class="label">46</a> -Iliad, Γ. 327.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_47" href="#FNanchor_47" class="label">47</a> -N. D. ii. 64.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_48" href="#FNanchor_48" class="label">48</a> -Pag. 397.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_49" href="#FNanchor_49" class="label">49</a> -<span class="smcap">Inst. Orat.</span> xi. 3.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_50" href="#FNanchor_50" class="label">50</a> -There having been such wretches, as the Painter Plutarch -speaks of—Χαιρεφάνης, ἀκολάστους ὁμιλίας γυναικῶν πρὸς ἄνδρας. De -aud. Poet.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_51" href="#FNanchor_51" class="label">51</a> -See an essay on the <i>Composition of the Antients</i>, by <span class="smcap">J. -Geddes</span>, Esq.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_52" href="#FNanchor_52" class="label">52</a> -Sir Philip Sidney.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_53" href="#FNanchor_53" class="label">53</a> -Diss. III. vol. ii.</p></div> -</div></div> - -<div class="transnote"> - -<h3>Transcriber’s Note:</h3> - -<p>Poetry line numbers normalized.</p> - -<p>All instances of a stigma (ϛ) in words have been changed to sigma tau (στ).</p> - -<p>The original text had an alternative pi (ϖ) at the start of a word. These have been changed to the standard pi (π).</p> - -<p>Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.</p> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Richard Hurd, Volume 1 -(of 8), by Richard Hurd - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF RICHARD HURD, VOL 1 *** - -***** This file should be named 52998-h.htm or 52998-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/9/9/52998/ - -Produced by Charlene Taylor, Wayne Hammond, Bryan Ness and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned -images of public domain material from the Google Books -project.) - -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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