^ PRINCETON, N. J. J* Presented by Mr. Samuel Agnew of Philadelphia, Pa. BX 5037 .H86 1811 v.l nei Hurd, Richard, 1720-1808. The works of Richard Hurd Lord Bishop of Worcester Edinburgh, 2d February, 1819. Suppl ement to ffncgctopartu% TScitan mca. # THIS DAY IS PUBLISHED, By ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE & CO. Edinburgh, And HURST, ROBESON, & CO. 90, Caeapside, London, Handsomely printed in Quarto, with elegant Engravings by the First Artists, , Price £.\ : 5s. in Boards, Volume III. Paht II. §.uajjkmrnt , TO THE ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNIC A. Edited by MACVEY NAPIER, F. R. S. Lond. and Edin. 'The three Volumes already published, containing upwards of Ninety Engravings, from original Drawings executed for the Work^ may be had, price 1l. 10s. boards. (jj* This Supplement will be completed in Six Volumes; and its plan is such as to render it not only a valuable companion to the various Editions of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, but of ex- tensive utility as a Separute Work ; being calculated, qf itself, to furnish a View of the Progress and Present State of all the most important departments of human knowledge* The Jirst volume is prefaced with the first* half of a Disserta- tion on the History of the Moral and Political Sciences, by Mr Dugald Stewart ; the second, with the first half of a similar Dissertation on the History of Uie Mathematical and Physical Sciences, by Mr Professor Playfair ; and the third, with a Dissertation on the History of Chemical Science, from the earli- est ages to the present time, by Mr Braxde, Professor of Che- mistry in the Royal Institution of London. The remaining portions of the Historical Dissertations by Mr Stewart and Professor Playfair, will be published with the Fourth and Fifth Volumes. % Besides the Preliminary Dissertations, the Three Volumes al- ready published contain the following Articles and Treatises ; viz. • In TOPOGRAPH Y. # Ahcrder*nshire V Ayrshire Anglesey Banffshire Antrim County Bedfordshire Argyleshire Berkshire Armagh County Berwickshire f i 1 SUPPLEMENT. Brecknockshire Buckinghamshire Buteshire Caermarthenshire Caernarvonshire Gt*ithness-shire Cambridgeshire Cardiganshire Carlow County Cavan County Clackmannanshire Clare County Cromartyshire Cumberlandshire Denbighshire Derbyshire Devonshire Donegal County Dorsetshire Down County Dublin County Dumfries-shire Dunbartonshire. In GEOGRAPHY, Abyssinia Admiralty Africa African Company — i Institution Albania Aleutian Islands Aniboyna, America Andes Araucanians Arreoys Asphaltites, or Dead Sea> Assam Australasia Austrian Empire Azores Babylon, present state of Baltic Sea' Banda Islands Barbary States Batnears Bavaria Bazeeguis Bejapour Beloochistan Berbice Beykaneer STATISTICS, asp HISTORY", Black Sea Bogalcund Bombay Borneo Borromean Islands Bourbon Islands. Brasil Budukshaun Buenos Ayres Bukhara Bulkh Bundelcund Calcutta Canada Canary Islands. Caraccas Castes, Indian Caubul Celebes Ceylon Chili China Circars (Northern) . Confederation of the Rhine. Demerary Denmark St Domingo r Abdollatif Aboulfeda Abulfazel Abu-Teman Ackermann Acosta In BIOGRAPHY, Adam (Alexander) A damson Adelung .-Epinus Agnesi D'Aiiucssau ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA. 3 Alfarabius Bourgoing A Morgan Bramah Alfieii Brisson Alliazcn Brockelsby Allan De Brosses Ames Broussonet Amman Brucker Anderson Bryant Andrews Buat-Nancay Anquetil Burger Busching TV 4 -,'11 D AnvilJe Cabanis D' Arcon Caesalpinus D Arcy Camper Arnaud Campomanes Atwood Canuis ilacon (Jolin; Capmany Baldinger Carlyle Bandello Casiri Bandini Casti Barlow Cavallo Barry Cavendisii Barthez Cesarotti Bascdotv Condamine Baume Condillac Bayen Coulomb Beattie Crawford Bcaumarcliais Currie Beccaria Dal^afha Beckmann Beddoes JDenina Bettineili Dillenius Bichat Dolomieu jiilnnger Dryander Bloch Duclos Bohaddnx Duhamel Borda Dumarsais Born Dun das Boswell Dunning Bougainville Dupuis Bouguer Eberhard. Boulton U ARTS, SCIENCES, and PHILOSOPHY. Achromatic Glasses Ammoniac, Sal Acoustics Anatomy, Animal Adhesion Comparative Aeronautics Vegetable: Agriculture Anchor-Making Alum Angle 4 SUPPLEMENT. Angle, Trisection of Calendering Annuities Camera Lucida A n n ill osii Cannon Ant Carpentry Coalcry Araeometer Chemistry Arithmetic Cirripides ^ Assaying Climate Assurance Cloud Astronomy Cohesion Atmometer Coining A.tomic Theory Cold Attraction Con ch ol ogy Baking Congelation Barometer Barometrical INIeasurcments Copying IVIachines Bathing Coralliniadau Beauty Cranioscopy Bee Cryophorus Bell Rock, Lighthouse Cutlery Blasting I" 1 v a ti nmp t f Y Bleaching Block- Making Deaf and Dumb Blow-Pipe Decomposition, Chemical Blowing- IVIacliines 5? w . Boring Dietetics Botany Distillation Break-Water at Plymouth Diving Brewing Docks Brick-Making Dock-Yards Bridge Dredging Bronzing Dry-Rot. Caledonian Canal In POLITICS, and POLITICAL ECONOMY. Absentee Colony Apprenticeship Commerce Balance of Power Corn Lavi s "Rillc nf IVTnri-'ilif \r 1)1 1 io U) 1*1 l»i tiUii y Corn I rude Blockade Cottage System Banking Cotton Manufacture Banks for Savings Beggar Credit Crimes and Punishment?. Benefit Societies Economists. In MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE. Academies Chivalry Ana, Collections of Copy-Right Arts, Fine Drama. Bibliography ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA. 5 The Articles and Treatises in this List have been contributed bij the following, among other well known Writers; viz. Reverend Archibald Alison, LL.B. F. R. S. L. & E. John Harrow Esq., F. R. S. one of the Secretaries of the Admiralty. ' Jean Baptiste Biot, Member of the Royal Institute of France, and Professor of Natural Philosophy in the College of France. William Thomas Brands Esq., Secretary to the Royal So- ciety of London, and Professor of Chemistry in the Royal Institution. Edward French Bromhead Esq., F. R. S. W. A. C a dell Esq., F. R. S. L.&E. Andrew Duncan junior, M. D. F. R.S. E. Professor of Medi- cal Jurisprudence in the University of Edinburgh. Daniel Ellis Esq., F. R. S. E. Rev. John Fleming, D. D. F. R. S. E. James Glasford Esq., Advocate. William Hazlitt Esq. London. Alexander Irving Esq., F. R.S. E. Advocate, Professor of Civil Law in the University of Edinburgh. James Ivory Esq., F. R. S. Member of the Royal Society of Gottingen. Francis Jeffrey Esq. William Jacob Esq., F. R. S. Robert Jameson, F. R. S. E. Professor of Natural History in the University of Edinburgh. John Leslie, F. R. S. E. Professor of Mathematics in the Uni- versity of Edinburgh. W. E. Leach, M. D. F. R. S. Zoologist to the British Museum-. William Lawrence Esq., F. R. S. Surgeon, London. Robert Muschet Esq., Royal Mint, London. James Mill Esq., London. Joshua Milne Esq., Actuary to the Sun Life Assurance Corrr- panv, London. J. R. M'Culloch Esq. Hugh Murray Esq., F. R. S. E. John Playfair, F. R. S. L. & E. Professor of Natural Philo- sophy in the University of Edinburgh. P. M. Roget, M. D. F. R. S. Walter Scott Esq. Sir James Edward Smith, F. R. S. President of the Linnaean Society. Thomas Thomson, M.D. F. R. S. L. & E. Professor of Che- mistry in the University of Glasgow. To each volume there is prefixed a List of the Names of those Gentlemen who have contributed to that volume, ivilh referee ces to their respective contributions. drittfmrgti #a?ettrer. This Day is Published, handsomely Printed in Octavo, {double co- lumns), and containing Twenty-five Sheets Letter-press, VOLUME FIRST AND SECOND— CONSISTING OF FOUR PARTS, PRICE NINE SHILLINGS EACH PART, OF THE EDINBURGH GAZETTEER, OR GEOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY; COMPRISING A COMPLETE BODY OF GEOGRAPHY, PHYSICAL, POLITICAL, STATISTICAL, AND COMMERCIAL. ACCOMPANIED BY AN ATLAS, CONSTRUCTED BY A. ARROWSMITH. EDINBURGH: HUNTED FOR ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND CO. EDINBURGH, AND LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME & BROWN, LONDON. CONDITIONS. I. The Work will extend to Six Volumes Octavo, elegantly [tint- ed. 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The Publishers beg respectfully to call the attention of the Public to this Atlas, constructed by the most eminent Geographer of the present day, and which they trust, fer accuracy, beauty of execution, and moderation of price, will be found worthy of attention. In the Press, and speedily will be published, in octavo, SERMONS, PREACHED IN ST JOHN'S CHAPEL, EDINBURGH, By DANIEL SANDFORD, D.D. One of the Bishops of the Scotish Episcopal Church, and formerly Student of Christ Church, Oxford. Edinburgh : Printed for A. Constable & Co. Edinburgh : F. C. &- J. Ri vington, St Paul's Church-yard and Waterloo Place; and Hurst, Robinson & Co., Cheapside, London. SERMONS AND LECTURES, By ALEXANDER BRUNTON, D.D. One of the Ministers of the Tron Church, and Profossor of Oriental Languages in the University of Edinburgh. In Octavo, 12*. boards. In the Press, and speediiy will be published, handsomely printed in one volume post octavo, EMMELINE, AN UNFINISHED TALE, with SOME OTHER ITECE6. By the late Mrs BRUNTON, Author of " Self-Control, ". and " Discipline, " To which is prefixed, A MEMOIR OF HER LIFE, Including some Extracts from her Correspondence. Printed for Manners & Miller, and Archibald Constabl* $ Co. Edinburgh, and John Murray, Albemarle Street, London. THE WORKS OF RICHARD HURD, D. D. LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER. VOL I Printed by J. Nichols and Son, Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London. J* f I THE WORKS RICHARD llURD, D. D. LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER. IN EIGHT VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: PRINTED FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES. STRAND 1*11. DATES OF SOME OCCURRENCES IK THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. The following Particulars, in the Author $ own hand- writings and endorsed by him — " Some Occurrences in my Life. K. TVT — were found amongst his jiapers after his de- cease. DATES Of some Occurrences in my oum Life. A. D. Richard Hurd was born at Con- greve, 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 nutura juberet, 8fc. They rented a considerable farm at Con- , grove, when he was born ; but soon after removed to a larger at Penford, about half way between Brewood and Wolverhamp- ton in the same County. a 4 VIII DATES OF 5031E OCCL•RRE^'CE^ 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 ?\Iaster of the School at Rudgelv : where he continued two \ears after his election to Brewood. while the School-house, which had been much neolected, was repairing. He was therefore sent to Rudgelv immediatelv on Mr. Budworth's appointment to Brewood, returned with him to this place, and con- tinued 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 Derbv, and after- wards bred at Christ's College in Cam- bridge, 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, h< -ides, a polite, well-bred man, and sin- I> THB IATX OF THE ALTHOX- IX A- D. g a laiU attentive to the manatrt, in erery sense of die word, of Ins scholars. He bad a wans sense of virtue and religion, and enforced both with a natural and tak- ing eloquence. How happv. to have bad such* a nan. first, for hi- school-master, and then lor his friend. Under so good direction, he was lh«ght fit for the University, and was accordingly admitted in Emannel College, in Cam- bridge. October 3. - - 1/33 but did not go to reside there till a year or In this college, he was happy in receiv- ing the countenance, and in being permit- ted to attend the Lectures, of that excel- lent Tutor, Mr. Henry Hubbard, although he La£ Seer, iinirrei ~ier Lr.:-.ier z-tr^:z He took his B. A.'s degree in - 1/38-9 He took his M. A/s degree, and was elected fellow in - - 17^ Was ordained Deacon, 13th of June that year in St. Paul's Cathedral, London, by Dr. Jos. Butler, Bishop of Bristol and D-ar. •:: ?t. Pitt's. ::. Lett hT: Dtztissirr from Dr. Gooch, Bishop of Xorwieh. W« orialt.-ii Priest. 3j Mi-. - 1744 X DATES OF SOME OCCURRENCE* A. D. in the Chapel of Gonville and Cuius Col- 1744 lege, Cambridge, by the Bishop of Nor- wich, Dr. Gooch. He took his B. D.'s degree in -• 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 He published the Commentary on the Epistle to Augustus in - - 175 1 — the new edition of both Comments, with Dedication to Mr. Warburton, in 1753 — the Dissertation on the Delicacv of Friendship in 1755 His Father died Nov. 27 this year, ait. 70. 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. He published Moral and Political Dia- logues - 1759 IN THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. XI A. D. He had the Sine-cure Rectory of Folk- ton, near Bridlington, Yorkshire, given him by the Lord Chancellor (Earl of North - ington) on the recommendation of Mr. Allen, of Prior Park, near .Bath, Novem- ber 2, - 1762 He published the Letters on Chivalry and Romance this year. — Dialogues on Foreign Travel in 1/63 And Letter to Dr. Leland of Dublin in 1764 He was made Preacher of Lincoln's Inn, on the recommendation of Mr. Charles Yorke, &c. November 6, - - 1765 Was collated to the Archdeaconry of Gloucester, on the death of Dr. Geekie, by the Bishop, August 27, - 1767 Was appointed to open the Lecture of Bishop Warburton on Prophecy in - I768 He took the degree of D. D. at Cam- bridge Commencement this year. He published the Sermons on Prophecy in 1772 His Mother died Feb. 27, 1773, set. 88. 1773 He was consecrated Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry, the 12th of February I775 He published the 1st Volume of Ser- mons preached at Lincoln's Inn 1776 Xli DATES OF SOME OCCURRENCES A. D. And was made Preceptor to the Prince 177 ^ 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. He lost his old and best friend, Bishop Warburton, June 7th - - 1779 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. He was elected Member of the Royal Society of Gottingen, January 1 1 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 Wor- cester, in the room of Bishop North, to be translated to Winchester, and of the Clerk- ship 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. IN THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. xiii A. D. 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 - 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 ex- pressions, 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, es- pecially 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. Added a considerable number of books to the new Library at Hartlebury in 1784 Confirmed Prince Edward [their Majes- ties' 4th son] in the Chapel of Windsor Castle, May 14th, 1785 - 1785 XIV DATES OF SOME OCCURRENCES A. D. Added more books to the Library this 1785 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 Ma- jesties' second daughter] in the Chapel of Windsor Castle, Dec. the 24th this year 1785 Preached in the Chapel the next day (Christmas day) and administered the Sa- crament to their Majesties and the Princess Royal and Princess Augusta. Preached before the Lords the 30th of January - 1786 His Majesty was pleased this year to be- stow 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. In the end of February this year - 1788 was published in seven volumes 4to a com- plete edition of the works of Bishop War- burton. The Life is omitted for the pre- sent. IN THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. XV A. D. March 13, I788, a fine gold Medal was IJSS this day given me hv his Majestv at the Queen's House. The King's head on one side. The Re- verse was taken from a Seal ot' mine *, which his Majestv chanced to see, and approved. The Die was cut bv Mr. Burch. and the Medal designed for the annual Prize-Dis- sertation on Theological Suhjects in the Universitv of Gottingeu. This summer the King came to Chelten- ham to drink the waters, and Mas 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 'uMS. house of Earl Falconherg. From Chelten- ham they made excursions to several places in Gloucestershire and Worcestershire, and were even.- where received with jov bv all ranks of people. On Saturday, August the second, Thev tag - were pleased to visit Hartleburv, at the distance of thirty-three miles, or more. [ a A Cross with the initials on a label — I. N. R. 1 a Glory above, and the motto below EK niETEnS.] Xvi DATES OF SOME OCCURRENCES A. D. The Duke of York came from London to 1/88 Cheltenham the clay before, and was pleased to come with them. They arrived at Har- tlebury 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 Ma- jesties, after seeing the House, breakfasted in the Library ; and, when they had re- posed 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 advan- tage. The day being extremely bright, the shew was agreeable and striking. About two o'clock, their Majesties, &c. returned to Cheltenham. On the Tuesday following, August the Aug,« fifth, their Majesties, with the three Prin- cesses, arrived at 8 o'clock in the evening at the Bishop's Palace in Worcester, to attend the charitable meetingof the three Quires of IN THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. X\ii A. D. Worcester, Hereford, and Gloucester, for 1788 the benefit of the widows and orphans of the poorer Clergv of those Dioceses ; which had been fixed, in consequence of the sig- nification 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 Clergv. 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", to which his Majesty was b " 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 in- VOL. t. b Xvi'li DATES OF SOME OCCURRENCES A. D. pleased to return a gracious answer. He 1788 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 kiss-^ ing the King's hand. Then the King had a terests 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. II. W. IH THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. xix A. D. Levee in the Great Hall, which lasted till 1^88 11, when their Majesties, &c. walked through the Court of the Palace to the Ca- thedral, to attend divine Service and a Ser- mon. The Apparitor General, 2 Sextons, 2 Virgers, and 8 Beadsmen, walked before the King (as on great occasions they usuallv do before the Bishop) ; the Lord in wait- ing (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 bv the Countesses of Pembroke and Harcourt (Ladies of the Bed-chamber), and the Countess of Cour- town, and the rest of their Suite. At the entrance of the Cathedral, their Majesties were received bv the Dean and Chapter in their Surplices and hoods, and conducted to the foot of the stairs leading to their seat in a Gallerv prepared and richly furnished bv the Stewards' for their use, at the bot- tom of the Church near the West w indow. The same ceremony was observed the tw o [ c Edward Foley, Esq. Member of Parliament for the County, and Wiiliain Langford, D. D. late Prebendary of Worcester.] b 2 XX DATES OF SOME OCCURRENCES A.D. following days, on which they beared sa- I788 cred musick, but without prayers or a ser- mon. On the last day Aug. 8th, the King was pleased to give s8.200 to the charity : and in the evening attended a concert in the College Hall for the benefit of the Stewards. On Saturday morning, Aug. 9th, the Aug. 9 King and Queen, &c. returned to Chelten- ham. During their Majesties' stay at the Pa- lace, 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 .s£.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 im- IN THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. XXI A. D. mense, and the joy universal. The wea- 1/88 ther was uncommonly fine. And no acci- dent of any kind interrupted the mutual satisfaction, which was given, and received, on this occasion. On Saturday, August 16, the King and Aug.16 Royal Family left Cheltenham, and re- turned that evening to Windsor. In the beginning of November following, Nov - 1 the King was seized with that illness, which was so much lamented. It con- 1789 tinued till the end of February 1789, when Feb<2s his Majesty happily recovered. Soon after I had his Majesty's command to attend him at Kew ; and on March 15, Mar. 15 I administered the Sacrament to his Ma- jesty at Windsor in the Chapel of the Castle, as also on Easter Sunday, April AprillS 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. XXli DATES OF SOME OCCURRENCES A. D. On April 23 [St. George's Day] a pub- 1?89 lie thanksgiving for the King's recovery Apriias 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 preach- ed. I was not well enough to be there. May 28, 1790, the Duke of Montagu 1790 died. He was a nobleman of singular May28 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 con- fidence : and there never was the least mis- understanding 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. IN THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. Xxiii A. D. These pictures are put up in the great 1790 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 Frincipum, Georgii III, et Charlottes Conjugis, Rex ipse Richardo Episcopo Vigorniensi Donavit, 1790." My younger Brother, Mr. Thomas Hurd, 1791 of Birmingham, died on Saturday, Sept. Sept. 17 17, 1791. My elder Brother, Mr. John Hurd, of 1792 Hatton, near Shifnal, died on Thursday, Dec. 6 December 6, 1792. My noble and honoured friend, the Earl 1793 of Mansfield, died March 20, 1793. March 20 My old and much esteemed friend, Dr. Balguy, Prebendary and Archdeacon of 1795 Winchester, died January 19, 1795. Jan. 19 The Life of Bishop Warburton, which wa9 sent to the press in Autumn last, was XXIV DATES OF SOME OCCURRENCES A. D. not printed off till the end of January, nor 1795 published till towards the end of February Feb.24 this year. 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 Wor- cester Infirmary. — The edition consisted of 250 Copies, 4to — was finished at the press Dec - 1 in the beginning of December. In the Summer of 1796 visited my Dio- 1796 cese in person, I have great reason to sup- j U ne pose for the last time; being in the 77 tn 17t " o3() year of my age — jiat voliLiitas Dei ! Mrs. Stafford Smith, late Mrs. Warbur- ton, died at Fladbury, September 1, 1796. Se Pt- 1 Mr. Mason died at Aston, April 5, 1797. 1797 He was one of my oldest and most respected April 5 friends. How few of this description now remain ! By God's great mercy enter this day [24 1799 Jan, 1799] into my 80th year. Ps. xc. 10. J«P-24 But see, 1 Cor. xv. 22. Rom. viii. 18. 1 Pet. L 3 — 5. Xapig ru Qeu 67Tt ta ccvbz^vi- y^ru ccvTii $upm. 2 Cor. ix. 15. It pleased God that I was able this Sum- May27to Bier to confirm over all parts of my Diocese. June 14 IN THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. XXV A. D. And to visit my Diocese in person once 1800 more in June 1800. — L. D. Juried to 17 Lost my old and worthy friend Dr. He- 1801 berden, in the 91st or 92nd year of his age, MayiG May 16, 1801. Consecrated, on Tuesday the 15th of 1802 June, 1802, the new Church and Church- Ju « e13 yard of Lower Eatington, near Shipston, in Warwickshire. My most deserving, unhappy, friend, Dr. William Arnald, died at Leicester, August 5, 1802. Aug. 5 Visited my Diocese by Commission — 1803 Commissioners, Dr. Arnold, my Chancel- May 31 lor, and Dr. Evans, Archdeacon. to June 3 St. James' day, July 25, 1804, held an 1804 Ordination in Hartlebury Chapel — 3 Dea- July25 cons, 5 Priests — the last I can expect to undertake. Confirmations by the Bishop of Chester 1805 (Dr. Majendie.) March 2J, Stratford. March 27 28, Bromsgrove. 28 > 29, Hales Owen. — by the Bishop of Hereford (Dr. Corn- wall.) June 14, Worcester JuneH 15, Pershore 15 17, Kidderminster 17 VOL. I. C XXvi DATES OF SOME OCCURRENCES A. D. Visited my Diocese this year by Com- 1806 mission — Commissioners, The Chancellor and Archdeacon. Warwick - May 26. Worcester - 28. Kidderminster - - 30. Pershore - - - 31. 1807, Sept. 26. The Prince of Wales 180/ 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 Se l*-«« this month, attended by his brother the Duke of Sussex, and Lord Lake, and staid with me above an hour. 1808, April 23. Granted a Commission 1808 to the Bishop of Chester, (Dr. Majendie,) to consecrate the new Chapel and burying- ground at Red-Ditch, in the parish of Tar- debig ; which was performed this day, Thursday, April 21, 1808, the proper offi- cers of the Court, and two of my Chaplains attending. IN THE LIFE OP THE AUTHOR. XXV11 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. A GENERAL CONTENTS. VOL. I. and II. CRITICAL WORKS. Vol. I. Q. Horatii Flacci Epistolae ad Pisones, et Augustum : With an English Com- mentary 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. a 2 xxxii GENERAL CONTENTS. 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. •) Vol VII ) S £RMONS preached at Lincoln's Inn. Vol. VIII. Sermons on public Occasions. Charges to the Clergy. And An Appendix ; Containing Controversial Tracts oh different subjects and occasions. CRITICAL WORKS. VOL. I. A3 Q. HORATII FLACCI EPISTOLAE A D P I S O N E S, E T 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. CONTEXTS or THE FIRST VOLUME Introduction, On Epistolary Writing. - 13 Epistola ad Pisonzs : With an English Commentary and Xotes, 27 Epistola ad Augustum: With an English Commentary and Xotes. 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 testi- mony 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 acknowledgments. For your constant 10 DEDICATION. 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 inten- tions, 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 cul- tivate 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*, 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 charac- ters, than his highest merit deserved. a The Reverend Mr. Budworth, Head-Master of the Gram- mar School at Brewood, in Staffordshire. He died in 1745. DEDICATION. 11 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 gen- tleman) 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 remem- ber 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 £man. Coll. Camb. June 21, 1757. most obedient Servant, R. Hurd. INTRODUCTION. Jt 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 fol- lowing ivork : 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 great- est 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 me- thod, 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 VOL. I. B 14 INTRODUCTION. himself prevented by their labours ; in which, be- sides 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 re- spects the subject ; the other, the method of the Art of poetry. It will be necessary to say some- thing 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 institu- tion's poeticce, 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*. 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 a Satyra haec est in sui seeculi poetas, prjecipue vero in Ro- manum drama. Baxter. INTRODUCTION. 13 " 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 criti- " cize 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 pro- perly, 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 scrutiniz- ing the peculiar state of the Roman stage (the me- thods, 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 sub- tilized by the delicate operation of French criticism 3 as hath even gone some way towards bringing the art itself into disrepute. 2. But the wrong explications of this poem have B 2 INTRODUCTION. 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 Scali- ger, 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 ut- terly unable to unfold the order of this epistle ; inso much, that Scaliger^, 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 parti- cular. But there is something more to be observed, in the case of Heinsius. For, as will be made ap- pear in the notes op 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, be- 6 Prsef. in lib. poet, ct 1. vi. p. 338. INTRODUCTION. 17 cause 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 Ronian. 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 IS INTRODUCTION. was a mere extemporaneous jumble of mirth and ill- nature. Ennius, who had the honour of introduc- ing 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 differ- ent subjects, and in different measures. Common sense disclaiming the extravagance of this hetero- geneous 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 hind 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 supposi- tion, 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 man- ner of the old comedy in satire, could never be suffi- cient for this purpose. For all, that he derived into it from thence, was, as Quinctilian speaks, libcrtus atque inde acerbitas et abunde salis. It sharpened his invective, and polished his wit, that is, it im- INTRODUCTION. proved 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 intro- duced into it. For this, without an unity ofdesign,'\s 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 In- ventor of the satire, it must needs be understood, that he was the first, who, from its former con- fused state, reduced it into a regular consistent poem, respecting one main end, as well as observ- ing one measure. Little now remained for Horace but to polish and refine. His only material altera- tion 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 un- constrained; nature demanding some chain of con- nexion, and a respect to its origin requiring that con- nexion to be slight and somewhat concealed. But its aim, as well as origin, exacted this careless me- thod. For being, as Diomedes observes, archceoe comoediae charactere compositum, " professedly writ- (l ten after the manner of the old comedy," it was of 20 INTRODUCTION. 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 cha- racterized 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 indis- pensably 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 in- sinuate instruction, it naturally takes an air of negli- gence and inconnexion, such as we have before seen essential to the satire. All which is greatly con- firmed 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, INTRODUCTION. 21 sive Liventem satiram nigra rubigine turpes, Sen tua non alia splendescut 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 Statins, not appre- hending this identity, or exact correspondence be- tween 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 me- thod : 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 it- self all the while, and leaves to the reader the satis- faction 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 12 INTRODUCTION. the sagacity of the reader, without putting him to the trouble of a painful investigation, is what con- stitutes the supreme charm and beauty of Epis- tolary Method. II. What hath hitherto been advanced respects chiefly the didactic form. It remains to say some- thing of that other species of the epistle, the Ele- giac ; which, as I observed, had quite another ori- ginal. For this apparently sprung up from what is properly called the Elegy : a poem of very antient Greek extraction : naturally arising from the plain- tive, 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 reso- lution wholly 0 to restrain. This is the account of the Elegit/ 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 d 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, c Mcerorem 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! d Vel tibi composita cantetur Epistola voce ; JGNOTUM HOC ALUS ILLE NOVAVIT OPUS. Art. Amat. 1. iii, v. 345. INTRODUCTION . and directing them to one principal view; and su- peradding a personal address, lie 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 Di- dactic, being of a cooler and more sedate turn, pur- sues 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 dis- tant hints, and starts at once into a digressive train of thinking, which it requires some degree of enthu- siasm 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 Ro- man 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 ele- gance 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 consum- mate address. That the former was the character- 24 INTRODUCTION. isticof 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 them- selves. 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 he an unity in the subject. 2. a connexion in the method : and 3. that such connexion he easy. All which I suppose to have been religiously ob- served 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 inter- preters attended to this practice, so consonant to the rule of nature before explained, they could ne- ver have found an art of 'poetry in the epistle, we are about to examine. 2. This one point, however it hath not been seen e , is constantly pursued by an uniform, con- e J. Scaliger says, Epistolas, Grcecorum more, Phocylidce atque Theognidis [Horatius] scripsit : prceceptis philosophice divulsis mi- nimeque inter se cohcerentibus. And'of this Epistle, in particular, he presumes to say, De Arte quceres quid sentiam. Quid ? Equi~ INTRODUCTION. sistent 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 vi- lify 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 pre- vented 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 transi- tions, 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 attempt- ed 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 dis- dem quod de Arte sine arte traditd. And to the same purpose another great Critic ; Non solum antiquorum vVoOt-xk* in moralibus hoc habuere, ut awXafl/av non servarent, sed etium alia de quibus- cunque rebus preecepta. Sic Epistola Horatii ad Pisones de Pog* tied perpetuum ordinem seriemque null am habct; sed ab uno prtage, others more fit to be related on it. Next, 2. In 44 ft. HORATII FLACCI 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 avein 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 Incident: 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 : COMMENTARY, 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, I. To tain the part of a persona diamatis in the acts; and, connect the acts with songs, persuading to good morals, and suitable to the subject. Further, tragedy ARS POETICA. 45 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 fiatu : 205 Quo sane populus numerabilis, utpote parvus Et frugi castusque vereeundusque coibat. Postquam coepit agros extendere victor, et uvbem Laxior amplecti murus, vinoque diurno Placari Genius festis inpune diebus ; 210 Accessit numerisque modisque licentia major. Indoctus quid enim saperet liberque laborum 5 Rusticus urbano confusus, turpis honesto ? COMMENTARY. 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 occa- sion 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, to- gether with a short glance at the other improvements of vumbers, stile, He. 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 ex- traordinary 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 lll- yoL. r. r> a. HORATII FLACCI 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 hircurn, 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, COMMEN TAR Y. observed by his countrymen, was the kind of verse or measure employed in them. This therefore, by a dis- position 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 ARS POETICA. 47 Migret in obscuras humili sermone tabernas: Aut, dum vitat humum, nubes et inania captet. Eftutire levis indigna tragoedia versus, 23 1 Ut festis matrona moveri jussa diebus, Intererit Satyris paulum pudibunda protervis. Non ego inornata et dominantia nomina solum Verbaque, Pisones, Satyrorum scriptor amabo : J\ec sic enitar tragico differre colori ; 236 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, mejudice, 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, etres; Nec, si quid fricti ciceris probat et nucis emtor, Aequis accipiunt animis, donantve corona. 250 COMMENTARY. 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 un- common personages in this drama, the satyrs themselves. This being premised, he considers, as was observed, what belongs in common to this with the regular tra- gedy [£ot» v. 251 to 275] the laws and use of the D 2 48 Q. HORATI1 FLACCI 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. Hie et in Acci Nobilibus Trimetris apparet rarus, et Enni. In scenam missus cum magno pondere versus, 260 Aut operae celeris nimium curaque carentis, Aut ignoratae premit artis crimine turpi. Non quivis videt immodulata poemata judex : Et data Romanis venia est indigna poetis. Idcircone vager, scribamque licenter ? ut omnis 26*5 Visuros peccata putem mea ; tutus 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 2/0 Laudavere sales ; nimium patienter utrumque (Ne dicam stulte) mirati : si modo ego et vos COMMENTARY. 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 ARS POETIC A. 4.-) Scimus inurbanum lepido seponere dicto, Legitimumque sonum digitis callemus et aure. Ignotum tragicae genus invenisse Camenae 275 Dicitur, et plaustris vexisse poemata Thespis ()ui canerent agerentque, peruncti faecibus ora. Post hunc personae pallaeque repertor honestae Aeschylos et modicis instravit pulpita tignis, Et docuit magnumque loqui, nitique cothurno. Successit vetus his Comoedia, non sine multa 28 1 Laude : sed in vitium libertas excidit, et vim Dignam lege regi : lex est accepta ; chorusque Turpiter obticuit, sublatojure nocendi. Nil intentatum nostri liquere poetae : 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, 289 COMMENTARY. history of the principal improvements of the Greek tra- gedy and comedy ; which was artfully contrived to insi- nuate 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 zcant 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, winch seem to have produced it. And this gives him the opportunity. 50 a. HORATII FLACCI Vk Quam lingua, Latium ; si non offenderet unum- Quemque poetarum limae labor et mora. Vos, 6 Pompilius sanguis, carmen reprehendite, quod non Multa dies et multa litura coercuit, atque Praesectum decies non castigavit ad unguem. Ingenium misera quia fortunatius arte 295 Credit, et excludit sanos Helicone poetas Democritus ; bona pars non unguis ponere curat, Non barbam : secreta petit loca, balnea vitat. Nanciscetur enim pretium nomenque poetae, 51 tribus Anticyris caput insanabile numquam 300 Tcnsori Licino conmiserit. O ego laevus, Qui purgor bilem sub verni temporis horam ? Non alius faceret meliora poemata : veruin COMMENTARY. 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 ap- pear from looking over particulars. PART III. A CARE AND DILIGENCE IN WRITING RECOMMENDED, I. [from 1. 295 to 1. 383] 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 ARS POETICA. 51 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 poetam ; Quid deceat, quid non ; quo virtus, quo ferat error. Scribendi recte, sapere est et principium et fons. Rem tibi Socraticae poterunt ostendere chartae : 3 10 Verbaque provisam rem non invita sequentur. Qui didicit patriae quid debeat, et quid ainicis ; Ouo sit amore parens, quo frater amandus et hospes; Quod sit conscripti, quod judicis ollicium ; 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. COMMENTARY. madness, and, upon the strength of that appearance, to set up for wits and poets. In opposition to this mis- take, which was one great hindrance to critical correct- ness, 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 na- ture, that great exemplar of manners, as he finely calls it, or, in other words, a wide extensive view of real, prac- tical life. The joint direction of these two, as means of acquiring moral knowledge, was perfectly necessary. Vox the former, when alone, is apt to grow abstracted and unaffecting : the latter/ uninstructing and super- ficial. The philosopher talks without experience, and 52 a. HORATII FLACCI Interdum ppeciosa locis, morataque recte Fabula, nullius veneris, sine pondere et arte, 320 Valdius oblectat populum, meliusque moratur, Ouam 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 ? COMMF, N TARY. 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 he able to ad- just 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 fur- nish 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 1. 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 1. 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 ARS POETICA. 53 Semis. An haec amnios aerugo et cura peculi 330 Cum semel inbuerit, speramus cans ina tingi Posse linenda cedro, et levi servanda cupresso ? Aut prodesse volunt, aut delectare poctae ; Aut simul et jocunda et idonea diet re vitae. Quicquid praecipies, esto brevis : ut cito dicta 335 Percipiant animi dociles, tenesmtque fideles. [Omne supervacuum pleno de pectore manat.] Ficta voluptatis causa sint proxima veris : Ne, quodcumque volet, poscat sibi tabula credi ; Neu pransae Lamiae vivum puerum extrahat alvo. COMMENTARY. low and illiberal education of the Roman youth ; who, while the Greeks were taug t 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 1. '133 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 poe- try 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 didac- tic poetry [from v. 335 to 338] in the conciseness of the precept : and, 2. in works of fancy and entertainment, 54 a. KG RATH FLACCI Centuriae seniorum agitant expertia frugis : 341 Celsi praetereunt austera poemata Ramnes. Omne tulit punctum, qui miscuit utile dulci, Lectorem delectando, pariterque monendo. Hie meret aera liber Sosiis, hie et mare transit, 345 Et longum noto scriptori prorogat aevum. Sunt delicta tamen, quibus ignovisse velimus : Nam neque chorda sonum reddit, quern volt manus et mens ; Poscentique gravem persaepe remittit acutum : 349 Nee semper feriet, quodeumque minabitur, arcus. 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 COMMENTA It Y. [1. 338 to 341] in probability of fiction. But both these [1 341 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 1. 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, A ItS POETICA. 55 Ridetur, chorda qui semper oberrat eadem : 356 Sic mihi qui multum cessat, fit Choerilos ille, Quern bis terve bonum, cum risu miror ; et idem Indignor, quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus. Verum operi longo fas est obrepere somnum. 36*0 Ut pictura, poesis : 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. CO MM EN TAIt V. on the contrary, admire a work, that was generally good, notwithstanding a few faults. Nay, he goes on [from I. 360 to 36b] 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 \esafitiished, 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 greacer 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 natune, 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, 50 a. HORATIT FLACCI O major juvenum, quamvis et voce paterna 366 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 JSlessallae, nec scit quantum Cascellius Aulus; Sed tamen in pretio est : mediocribus esse poetis Non homines, non Di, non concessere columnae. Ut gratas inter mensas symphonia discors, Et crassum unguentum, et Sardo cum melle pa- paver 375 Offendunt ; poterat duci quia coena sine istis : Sic anitnis natum inventumque poema juvandis, Si paulum sum mo decessit, vergit ad imum. Ludere qui nescit, campestribus abstinet armis ; Indoctusque pilae, discive, trochive, quiescit ; 380 C O MM EN TARY. by shewing [from 1. 3fi6 to 379] that a mediocrity, how- ever 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 phase, 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 re- flexion leads him with great advantage [from 1. 379 to 391] to the general conclusion in view, viz. that as ARS POETICA. 57 Ne spissae risum tollant inpune coronae : Qui nescit versus, tamen audet fingere. Quid ni ? Liber et ingenuus ; praesertim census equestrem Sum mam nummoruin, vitioque remotus ab omni. Tu nihil invita dices faciesve Minerva : 385 Id tibi judicium est, ea mens, si quid tamen olini Scripseris, in Maeci descendat judicis auris, Et patris, et nostras ; nonumque prematur in an- num, 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 305 Ducere quo vellet. fuit haec sapientia quondam, Publica privatis secernere, sacra profanis ; Concubitu prohibere vago ; dare jura mantis ; Oppida moliri ; leges incidere ligno. Sic honor et nomen divinis vatibus atque 400 Carminibus venit. post hos insignis Homerus COMMENTAR Y. none but excellent poetry will be allowed, it should be a warning to writers, how they engage in it with- out abilities ; or publish without severe aud frequent correction. But to stimulate the poet, who, notwith- standing the allowances already made, might be some- thing struck with this last reflexion, he flings out [from 1. 391 to 408] into a fine encomium, on the dignity and 58 a. HORATII FLACCI Tyrtaeusque mares animos in Martia bella Versibus exacuit. dictae per carmina sortes, Etvitae 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 COMMENTARY. 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 ho- nours, 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 be- comes 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 Wuuid be apt to ARS POETICA. 5,9 Altera poscit opem res, et conjurat amice. 411 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 poemata 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 poeta 420 Dives agris, dives positis in foenore nummis. Si vero est, unctum qui recte ponere possit, Et spondere levi pro paupere, et eripere artis COMMENTARY. occur to the general scope and tenor of the epistle, as having turned principally on art and rules without insist- ing much on natural energy, the poet obviates at once [from v. 408 to 4iy] 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 want- ing. 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 some- times 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 ut- most propriety, adds [from v. 419 to 450] as a necessary part of this instructive monition to his brother poets, Go €t. HORATII FLACCI Litibus inplieitum ; mirabor, si sciet inter- Noseere 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 quern perspexisse laborant 435 An sit amicitia dignus. si carmina condes, Nunquam te fallant animi sub volpe latentes. Ouintilio si quid recitares : Corrige sodes Hoc, aiebat, et hoc. melius te posse negares, Bis terque expertum frustra ? delere jubebat, 440 C O M M E N TAR Y. 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, infa- tuated, 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. ARS POETICA. O'l Et male ter natos incudi reddere versus. Si dtfendere delictum, quam vertere, malles ; Nullum ultra verbum, aut operam insurnebat in- anem, Quin sine rivali toque et tua solus amares. Vir bonus et prudens versus reprehendct inertis ; Culpabit duros ; incomptis adlinet atrum 446* Transverso calamo signum ; ambitiosa recidet Ornamenta ; parum claris lucem dare coget ; Arguet ambig;ue 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 quern scabies aut morbus regitts urguet, Aut fanaticus error, et iracunda Diana; Vesanun tetigisse timent fugiuntque poetam, 45.5 Qui sapiunt : agitant pueri, incautique sequuntur. Hie, dum sublimis versus ruetatur, et errat, Si veluti merulis intentus decidit auceps COMME N T A R Y. And now, an unity of design in this epistle, and the pertinent connection of its several parts being, it is pre- sumed, from this method of illustration, clearly and indisputably shewn, what must we think of the cele- brated French interpreter of Horace, who, after a studied translation of this piece, supported by a long, elaborate commentary, minutely condescending to scru- tinize each part, could vet perceive so little of its true form and character, as to give it for his summary judg- ment, in conclusion; " Comme il [Horace] ne travailloit VOL. f. E 6' I a. HORATU FLACCI ARS PQETICA. In puteum, foveamve ; licet, Succurrite, longum Clamet, io cives : non sit qui tollere curet. 460 Si curet quis opem ferre, et demittere funem ; Qui scis, an prudens hue se projecerit, atque Servari nolit ? dicam : Siculique poetae Narrabo interitum. Deus inmortalis haberi Dum cupit Empedocles, ardentem frigidus Aetnam Insiluit. sit jus, liceatque perire poetis. 466 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 47 0 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. Quern vero arripuit, tenet, occiditque legendo, 475 Non missura cutem, nisi plena cruoris, hirudo. COMMEN TARY. pas a cela de suite et qiCil ne gardoit d? autre erdre que celui des matieres que le hazard lui donnoit a lire et d examiner, il est arrive deld qtC IL 8' Y A AUCUNE methode HI AU- CUNE LIAISON DE PARTIES DANS CE TKA1TE', qui memc rCa jamais ete acheve, Horace ?i' ay ant pas tu le terns d'y mc.ttre la derniere main, ou, ce qui est plus vraiseviblable, n\iyant pas voulu s'en donner la peine." [M. Dacicr's In- trod. 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'lL L'AVOIT E1EN ENTENDU, JL LUI AUR01T RENDU PLUS DE JUSTICE, ET EN AUROIT PARLE' PLUS MODESTEMENT. NOTES ON THE ART OF POETRY. E 2 NOTES ON THE ART OF POETRY. THE text of this epistle is given from Dr. Bent- ley'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 hcec fusius : praeser- tim si cogitent, veri critici esse, non literulam alibi ejicere, alibi innocentem syllabam et quae nunquam male merita de patriafuerit, per jocum et ludum trucidare et conjigere ; veriim recte de autoribus et rebus judicare, quod et solidce et absolutas eru- ditionis est. Heinsius. I. 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, agree- ably to the genius of the Epistle. But elegance, in 66 NOTES ON THE 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 compo- sition ; or, 2. from the peculiar ones, appropriated to the hind. 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 aniversals 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 miscon- duct 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 deli- vered, he then proceeds, Avith advantage, to the second, source of his art, viz. the consideration of the laws and rules peculiar to the hind. 0. PlCTORIBUS AT&UE PQETIS QuiDLIBET AUDENDI SEMPER FUIT AEftUA POTESTAS.] The mo- dem painter and poet will observe that this apho- rism Comes from the mouth of an objector. 14- Inceptis gravibus, &c] These prepara- tory observations concerning the laws of poetic composition at large have been thought to glance ART OF POETRY. C7 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 imi- tations, [jlovos — ot» |ttJjttif(ref$ Spaua/ixaj MroftgVK And to the same purpose Plato : soixs ( a=i/ twv xaT^uiv aTTOtvltov T8TWV tcuv rpayixtuv zsptoTog <$.<6ay ysvi\] De Rep. 1. 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 u 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 cen- sures, here pointed at the epic, would bear still more directly against the tragic pc^m ; it being more glaringly inconsistent with the genius of the drama to admit of foreign and digressive ornaments, than of the extended, episodical epopccia. For both these reasons it was altogether pertinent to the poet's purpose, in a criticism on the drama, to expose ^he vicious practice of the epic models. Though, to preserve the unity of his piece, and fur the . teon before given in note on v. 1. he hath artfully done this under the cover of general criticism. 19. Sed nuxc non erat his locus.] If one was to apply this observation to our dramatic writ- 68 NOTES ON THE ings, I know of none which would afford pleasanter instances of the absurdity, here exposed, than the famous Orphan of Otway. Which, notwithstand- ing 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. Deniq.ue sit aumvis : 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 ANIMlftUE : PROFESSUS GRANDIA TURGET : SeRPIT HUMI TUTUS nimium TiMiDUsauE procellae.] If these cha- racters 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 cvpit rem prodigialifer imam, Delphinium sihis adpiugit, Jluctibus 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 ART OF POETRY. so largely supplied, hath deformed his best plays with these prodigious incongruities. -9- Qui variare cupit rem prodigialiter L'Nam, &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 in- congruous parts, without any reference to a whole, this prodigi/ is designed to characterize a whole t but deformed by the ill-judged position of its parts. The former is like a monster, whose several mem- bers, 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 irre- ducible 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 leaves ; and the painter might shew them both on the same canvass. Each is a violation of the lav/ 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 mis- placed, and disjointed. NOTES ON THE 34. Infelix operis summa: auiA 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 1 , " That the sub- ject 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 pain- ter's plan, the totum, which it will be impossible for those to express, who lay out their pains so soli- citously 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 prin- cipal 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 pic- tures, than G. Poussin : Yet his animals are ob- served 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 correct- a Sec Victor. Comm. in Dem. Phakr. p. 73. Florent. 1594 ART OF POETRY. ness of the drawing, but on the elegance of their disposition only. For, in a landskip, the eye care- lessly glances over the smaller parts, and regards them only in reference to the surrounding objects. The painter's labour therefore is lost, or rather mis- employed, to the prejudice of the whole, when it strives to finish, so minutely, particular objects. If some great masters have shewn themselves ambi- tious of this fame, the objects, they have laboured, have been always such, as are most considerable in themselves, and have, besides, an effect in illustrat- ing and setting off the entire scenery. It is chiefly in this view, that Ruisdale's waters, and Claude Lorain's shies are so admirable. 40. CUI LECTA POTENTER ERIT RES.] Pot enter i. e. xaia Suvayuv, 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 carmints AUCTOR — In VERBIS ETIAM TENUIS CAUTUSaUE SE- rendis.] Dr. Bentley hath inverted the order of these two lines ; not merely, as I conceive, without 72 NOTES ON THE 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 : [Ordihis haec virtus erit et venus, aut ego Jailor.'] 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 inven- tion, 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, de- flee in the management of known words. An appa- rent Novelty is sometimes effected 7. By turning Participles into Adverbs-r— 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 Maw'd heart, Alack, too weak the conflict to support, 'Twixt two extremes of Passion, joy and grief, Burst smilingly — Lear, A. v. S. 8, ART OF POETRY. 8$ S. By figurative terws ; 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 no- velty ; 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 expres- sion 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 Summers cloud, Without our special wender ? — Macb. A. in. S. g, $4 NOTES ON THE 10. By transposition of ivords — unauthorized use of terms — and im grammatical construction. In- stances in all his plays, passim. 11. By foreign idioms. 'Tis true these are not frequent in Shakespear. Yet some Latinisms and e'en Giecisms we have. As Quenched of hope — Cymb. ' v. S. 5. And the like. But, which is more remarks s and served his purpose just as well, the writers of that time had so latinizd the English language ; that the pure English Idiom, which Shakespear generally follows, has all the air of novelty which other wri- ters 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 appre- hension of what is meant by Callida Junctura ; And that it is, in effect, but another word for Li- centious Expression : The use of which is, as Quin- tilian well expresses it, " Ut quotidiani et semper eode/n mo do formati sermonis Fastidium levet, et nos a viflgari dicendi genere dcfendat." 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 ART OF POETRY. 8| ease and perspicuity ; In which well-tempered li- cence 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 some- times, 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 enter- tainment. And the necessity of preventing the te- dium arising from hachued 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 fre- quent and excessive use had made this expedient; ridiculous as well as cheap, they tried another, it's NOTES ON THE 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 cha- racter 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 ART OF TOETRY. So larded; and, if I might counsel you, You should compose a Sonnet, cleane without them. A row of stately Substantives would inarch, 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 Poetrv. Let children, when they versifye, sticke here And there these pidling words, for want of matter; Poets write masculine numbers. CAPER WIT. 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. Ctxilio Plautoui e dabit Romanus, ademp- tum Virgilio VARioauE?] Thequestion is but reason-*, able. 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 Home; and will, I suppose, hold every-where, under the same circumstances. Caecilius and Plautus were allowed to coin, but not Virgil and Varius. The same indul- gence our authors had at the restoration of letters ; but? 8;s NOTES ON THE 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 affecta- tion, 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 prac- tice, good writers, as they safely may, should dare to venture upon it. A perfect language is a chimaera. 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 fastidi- ous delicacy of his age, from a sober use of this pri- vilege. 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 qua? primo dura visa sunt, usu molliun- tur." Quintil. 1. i. c. v. ART OF POETRV. 70. MULTA RENASCEXTUR, &UAE JAM CECTDERE.]] 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 scientid Uterdrum, tamen dugetur legetidis oratoribus [yeteribus] et poetis : sunt enim illi veteres, qui ornare nondum poterant ea, quae dicebant, omnes prope pracclare locuti — Neque tamen erit utendum verbis Us, quibus jam consuetudu nostra non utitur, nisi quando or- nandi causd, puree, quod osfendam; sedusitatis ita poterit uti, lectissimis ut utatur is, qui in veteri- bus erit scriptis studiose et multum volutatus. [De Orat. 1. hi. c. x.] These choice words amongst such as are still in use, I take to be those which are em- ployed by the old writers in some peculiarly strong and energetic sense, vet 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 forci- bly; and we endeavour to express, not our sense .90 NOTES 0>f THE only, but our sensations, in the terms we use to explain them. The passion of wonder, which Phi- losophy would cure us of, is of singular use in raising the conception, and strengthening the ex- pression 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 say?, must be made farce, 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, hccc sunt Poet arum licentice libe- riora. [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 per- fectly of Cicero's mind in this matter. See 1. x. c. i.) Verba a vetustate repetita afferunt orationi majes- tatem aliquant non sine delectations ; nam et auc- toritatem antiquitatis habent ; et, quia intermissa sunt, gratiam noviiati similem par ant, [Lib. i. c. vi. sub fin.] But this is not all: The riches of a lan- guage are actually increased by retaining its old words ; and besides, they have often a greater real weight and dignity, than those of a more fashion- able 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 : Notts avons tcllement laissc ce qui eioit au vicl francois, ART OF rOETRY. 91 que nous avons laisse' quant et quant la plus part de cequil avoit de bon. [Trait, preparatif a 1' Apol. pour Herod. 1. i. c. xxviii.] Or, if the reader requires a more decisive testimony, let him take it in the words of that curious speaker, Fenelon. Ndtre langue ?na>ique d'un grand nombre de mots et de phrases. II me semble mt!me quon lagenee et appauvrie depuis environ cent ans en voulant la purifier. II est vrai quelle dtoit encore un pen informe et trop verbeuse. Mais le vieux language se fait regretter, quand nous le retrouvons dans Marot, dans Amiot, dans le Cardinal Ossat, dans les ouvrages les plus en- joues, et dans les plus serieux. II y avoit je ne scai quoide court, de naif, de vif et de passion e. [Reflex, gur 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 scru- pulous delicacy of some good writers amongst our- selves, 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 92 NOTES ON THE 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 peri- phrases and general expression ; the peculiar bane of every polished language. Whereas the rhetori- cian's judgment here again should direct us : Omnia verba (except is panels parum verecuudis) sunt ali- cubi optima ; nam et humilibus interim et vulga- ribus est opus, et quce cultiore in parte videntur sordida, uli res poscit, proprie dicuntur. Which seems borrowed from Dionysius of Halicarnassutr [ctsp. i>7raoou, rj piarjov, rj aXArjV rivu 6u(r%sosia.v £%ov £[x%aXa)V E^OocIv rig a-Crfi, xotXh'ivixov oiVeTai. And she herself, when opening to the chorus her last horrid purpose, says, fiercely indeed, but not frantically : Mrjfisls [as a.vio\x r j.\og rig tj, 6 Tr)y /w'ju^fnv -Gsapkyiuv xcci toistov ffiog uiroribiig, ojuuo£ ofxaWwg avco'xaT^civ 3sT slvai. TLoir\r. y.. is, 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 co- medy, are of too fantastic and whimsical a nature to be admitted into tragedy : of which Aristotle must NOTES ON THfi there be chiefly understood to speak, and to which Horace, in this place, alone confines himself, 5* '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 \ u and it is perfectly natural, that in such a circum- * stance, 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 ex- pression 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, uminiform. One of the strongest touches in her character is that of a high, heroic spirit, sensi- ble to her own, and her family's injuries, and de- termined, at any rate, to revenge them. Yet no sooner is this revenge perpetrated, than she softens, relents, and pities. Here is a manifest unun'for- m'ttu, which can, in no proper sense of the express sion lay claim to the critic's o^-aXov, but may be so managed, by the poet's skill, as to become consist- ent with the basis or foundation of her character, that is, to be ojaaAtoj dtvfJjxaXov. 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 ART OI POETRY. 125 ava>txa\n, irregular, or ununiform, character, ill- expressed, or made inconsistent. So that the ge- nuine sense of the precept is, " Let the manners be " uniform ; or, if ununiform, yet consistently so, " or uniformly ununiform :" exactly copied, accord- ing to the reading, here given bv Horace. Where- as 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 irre- " gular 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 unmean- ing tautology with the former. 127. Aut sibi constet.] The Electra and Iphi- genia of Euripides have been quoted, in the prece- ding 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 Clytaemnestra, fall into the same excess of grief and regret, as Orestes. VOL. I. I 136 NOTES ON THE 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 giref 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, regard- ing it rather as her fate, than her fault, comforts herself in reflecting on the justice of it. ■urar^og 8' sTHrag <$>6vov ^ixaicog. 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 con- sciousness of its crimes: the other, a firm and steddy spirit, sensible indeed to its misery, but not op- pressed or astonished by it. 2. But this measure of grief, so delicately marked, and, with such truth of character, ascribed to Elec- tra, ought not, it is further insisted, to have shewn itself, immediately, on the murder of Clytaemnestra. But why not? There is nothing in the character of JSlectra, the maxims of those times, or in the dispo- ART OF POETRY. 127 sifion 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 ex- pect it. 1. ElectreCs character is indeed that of a fierce, and determined, but withall of a generous and vir- tuous woman. Her motives to revenge were, prin- cipally, a strong sense of justice, and superior affec- tion 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 dis- tress of such a spectacle ? 2. The maxims of t hose times also favour this con- duct. 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 xn Tables. Hence blood for blood [alixa 6' aiparog davsjerp.^, — as the messenger, in his account of the death of .-Egysthus, 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 enor- mous offenders was believed, not only conso- 12 128 NOTES ON THE nant 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 ccesi 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 Jictis fabidis doctissimi homines memorise prodiderunt, eum, qui patru ulciscendi causd ma- trem necavisset, variatis hominum sententiis, non solum divind, sed etiam sapient issimce Dece sententid absolutum [Cic. pro Milon.] The venerable coun- cil of Areopagus, when judging by the severe rules of written justice, it seems, did not condemn the cri- minal; 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 oi divine, jus- tice. Of this too the Chorus takes care to inform us : Ns'jxei rot (jlxav ^sog orav ru^rj. Act. iv. This explains the reason of Electras question to Orestes, who had pleaded the impiety of murder- ing a mother, Kai /xev apjveuv wargt, (Worses e NOTES ON THE 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 FAVE.vrauE, &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 uill need some explanation and restriction. To conceive aright of its office, we must suppose the chorus to be a number of persons, by some pro- bable 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 princi- pally consist in declaring their sentiments, and in- dulging 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 partialitiet from affection or interest. Though even these may be supposed in cases, where the character, towards which they draiv, 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 man- kind, in all ages and nations, when acting freely ART OF POETRY. 157 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 ivrong; 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 reflect- ing to us the image not of the sage's speculation, but, of the obvious sense of common, untutor'd minds. The reader will rind 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 differ- ent circumstances, to corrupt and defile morality ; but allowance is also to be made for the false poli- cies, which may prevail in different countries ; and especially if they constitute any part of the subject, which the drama would represent. If the cliorus 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 VOL. I. L 158 NOTES ON THE to their observation ; but will be at liberty to pursue their natural inclination of speaking the truth. But should this venerable assembly, instead of sustain- ing the dignity of free subjects, be, in fact, a com- pany 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 evi- dent. -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 vir- tue, 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 cha- racter ; 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, con- trary 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 ,TES ON THE character. But we are to look for it no further. This is the utmo:' - ar i 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 common- " wealths." 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 him- self 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 the has derived great advantages of probability from its mistaken moral. If there be truth in this re- flexion, it will help to justify some of the ancient choirs, that have been most objected to by the mo- derns. To give an instance or two, and leave the ART OF POETRY. 161 curious reader to extend the observation at his leisure. I. In the Hippolytus of Euripides, the chorus, which is let into Phaedra'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 unbe- coming part to his chorus, which, in order to ob- serve 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 Phee- dra, which, on our stricter moral plan, is repug- nant to the plain rules of duty, was, in the circum- stances supposed, fully justified on the pagan sys- tem. Phaedra had confessed the secret of her cri- minal 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 ex- pence of her life. Rather than bear the insupport- ble 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. " Phaedra, says the chorus, oppressed and '•' borne down by her afflictions, has recourse to this " expedient of suicide,, 162 NOTES ON THE T akyzuv -v:ov 'ipwra. " for the sake of her good fame, and in order to free " herself from the tortures of a cruel psssion." And how agreeable this was to the pagan system, in ge- neral, let the reader collect from the following tes- timonies in Cicero : Si omnia fugiendce turpitudi- nis adipiscendaeque honestatis causd facicmus, non modo stimulus doloris, sed etlam fulmina fortunce contemnamus licebit : prcesertim cum paratum sit Mud ex hesternd dispuiatione perfugium. Ut enim, si, cui naviganti prcedones insequantur, Deus cjuis dixerit, Ejice te navi ; prtesto est, qui excipiat, &c. omnem omittas timorem ; sic, urgen- iibus asperis et odiosis doloribus, si tanti non sint id ferendi sint, quo sit confugiendum rides. [Tusc. Disp. 1. ii. 26".] And, again, in the close of the V th disputation, Mihi quidem in vita servanda videtur ilia lex, quae in Grceeorum conviviis obtinet : Aut bibat, inquit, aut abeat. Et recte. Aut enim jtuatur aliquis pariter cum aliis voluptate potandi ; avt. ne sobrius in violent iam vinolentorum incidat, ante discedat : sic injurias fortune, »uas ferre NE&UEAS, defugiendo relingluas. 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 ART OF POETRY. 163 consists of Corinthian ivomen, is faithful to a stranger against their sovereign*? This good Frenchman, it seems, thought it a kind of trea- son, even on the stage, and where a moral charac- ter was to be sustained, to take part against a tyrant. d See also to the same purpose P. Corneille's Exam, sur la Medee. 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 ft to be without the least foundation. For 1. the cho- rus 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 Crcon is principal. Every step, in the progress of the play, depends so immediately xrpon him, that he is almost constantly upon the stage. No reflexions could therefore be made by the chorus, nor any part against him be un- dertaken, 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 cho- i-us, 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. 164 NOTES ON THE But he will further say, that the moral charac- ter 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 trans- gressed 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 exprcsly allowed to the injuries of the husband. And, it is probable, the wife might in- cline 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 i p the utmost horror and commiseration, on the heathen. " We do not find, says this agree- " able writer, any comedy in so polite an author, as " Terence, raised upon the violations of the marriage- " bed. The falshood of the wife or husband has ART OF POETRY. *' given occasion to noble tragedies; but a Scipio and " Laelius would have looked upon incest or murder, '■' to have been as proper subjects forcomedy." This is strictly and precisely the truth. And, therefore, as the crimes of incest or murder were believed deserv- ing of the highest punishment by the Pagans, and every good man was ready to interest himself in seeing it infiicted e ; 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 con- sent 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, Mr/j-tx. I will do it ; for this revenge on a hu sband 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 jnstitiam, ivholesome justice. And, therefore, the scholiast, with M. Daciers leave, gave a fit and proper account e See note on v. 1"27. 166' NOTES ON THE 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 free- dom is properly mentioned. For this distinguishes their case from that of the nutrix, who upon receiving the account of Jason's cruelties, cries out, 'Arap xaxog y cou s]g .a^?avac7-«, Spo.v medy, as opposed to Tragoedia, [as in fact, we find it in 1. 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 mu- sic, the poet takes in the other improvements of the l 7 8 NOTES ON THE tragic chorus, these happening, as from the nature of the thing they would do, at the same time. 214. Sic priscae motum&ue 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 heing, 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. Traxitsue vagus per puepita 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 an- cients 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 becom- ART OF POETRY. 179 ing, graceful, and niajestic ; in which view we cannot but perceive the important assistance it must needs lend to virtue, and how greatly it must con- tribute 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 col- lected from the name, usually given, to it, which was Ku.[xl:.zia. This word cannot weil be translated into our language ; but expresses all that grace and con- cinnity 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 com- monwealth. 216. Sic fidibus etiam 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 ct Thespis et JEschylus utile ferrent. This improvement consisted, 1. In a more instruc- tive 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 }iis subject, SncJ l8o NOTES ON TH2 introducing the rest) being placed first ; the decla- mation, as attending that, next ; the language, fa- cundia, that is, the subject of the declamation, next; and the sentiment, sententia, the ground and basis of the language, last. Et tulit eloquium i 'nsolltum facundia prceceps. literally, " A vehemence and rapidity of language " produced an unusual vehemence and rapidity of " elocution in the declaimer !" This " rapidity of lan- — Arti. What hath chiefly misled the Critics in their ex- planation 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: l. 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 iEgypt, in lS2 >•••! ;:s ON THE suffering no change of ner poetry, but continuing, to his time, her fondness for the Songs of his [De Leg. 1. ii. sub. init.] winch 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 ex- ceeded 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 Empe- rors ; in whose time, indeed, music had undergone a miserable prostitution, beiftg broken, as one of the best of those writers complain!, into an effemi- nate and impure delicacy — In scenis ejfeminata et impudicis modis fracta, [Quint, i. 1. 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. 1. ii. If)-] who, following Plato in his high-flown principles of legislation, exclarnes, Ilia qucc solebant quondam compter i severitate jucunda Livianis et Ncevianis modis ; nunc nt eadem exult ent, cervices oculosque pariter cum Modorum flexionibus torqaeant ! For the severitas jucunda of the music, to which Livius's plays were *et, it may be tolerably guessed from hence, that he was the first who brought a ART OF POETRY. lSj written Play upon the sta5e ; i. e. the first writer whose plays were acted to a regular and precom posed music. And it is not, we know, wry usual for the first e«says in any art to be perfect. It should seem then, that the Jiexiones 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 le- gislator, treading in the steps of Plato. Though in- deed I have no doubt, that the music in those times was much changed, and had even suffered some de- gree 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 dege- nerating 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, Aid hac dulcedinc corrupt elaque depravati, ut quidam putant ; out cum severitas eorum ob alia vitia ceci- disset, turn fait in auribus animisque mutatis etiam kmc mutationi locus. [Leg. ii. 15.] But be this as it will, Horace, as we have seen, is no way con- cerned in the dispute about the ancient music. 184 NOTES ON THE *> • _^ ^ m 219. Sententia Delphis.] Sententia is properly an aphorism taken from life, briefly representing either tvhat is, or what ought to he the conduct of it: Orafio sumpta de vita, quae aid quid sit, aut quid esse oporteat, invito, hreviter ostendit. [Ad Herenn. Rhet. 1. 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 prcccep- tores, 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 Ouintilian expresly tells us of the old Latin poets, whose fame, it seems, was principally raised upon this merit. Tragocdice scriptores, Accius et Pacuvius, clarissimi gravitate senten- tiarum, §c. [). x. c. I.] To how intolerable an extreme this humour of moralizing in plays was afterwards carried, Seneca has given us an example, A'.iT OF POETRY. 1 85 But here a question will be started, " Why then " did the Greeks moralize so much, or, if we con- " demn Accius and Seneca, how shall we defend " Sophocles and Euripides ?" An ingenious £ mo- dern hath taken some pains to satisfy this diffi- culty, 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 i( 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 acknow- ledged allusions, as well as from reflexions on the genius and government of the Athenians, at large. But this, thougli 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 verv choice of this medium for the conveyance of their political applications, presupposes the prior acknow- ledged 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 S P. Brumoy, Disc, sur le parall, dti Theat. p. 165. Amst. 1732. KOTES ON THE sense of such people always delighting to shew itself in sententious or proverbial yvwy.ai, or observations. Their character, like that of the clown in Shukespear, is to be very swift and sententious. [As you like it, Act v. sc. 1.] Tl.'s is obvious to common expe- rience, and was long since observed by the philo- sopher, oi aypoixoi luaKiga yvco[jLOTtj7roi elvt f xcci pa- 8j'a>£ a7TQ, X r Z$ ra-s'pi, UapQsvs, y.o{j£,ag Kai %aviiv £VpU0TO$ h 'EA? v aoi ctotuoc, Kcu zsovug TTtfjvau p.cO\B^sg a.xa;xavra.s. h Imitations of Horace by Thomas Nevile, M. A. Fellow of Jesus College, Cambridge, 1758. 188 NOTES ON THE Toiov s7r) Qpsva. /BaXXsic xolq7tov t\g aQavarov, u xoli yovswv, MaAaxauyTjToTo ^' (jttvs. Ayhas ts xSpoi ztroW' averAacra}', "Egyo<£ crav ayo^soovTsg SuvajXiV. A7a£ t at'tiao 8o|u,8£ tj xQof Saj o' evsxot iXie popEPEI£ SfiiiAk UEPEI£: And as to the restored word igofl*, besides the necessity of it to complete the sense, it exactly suits with «r&7? rt 0090*; in v. 12. Lastly, the measure will now sufficiently justify itself to the learned reader. VOL. t. N \ 190 NOTES ON THE 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 shin* 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 philoso- pher of the stage, as the Athenians called him, and who is characterized by Ouinctilian, as sententik densus, et in Us, quae a sapientibus tradita sunt, pccne 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 j and therefore ART OF POETRY. 191 Sophocles, though his engagements in the state kept him at a. greater distance from the schools, had yet his share of this philosophical humour. Xow 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 qulclem tanhim abest tit proinde, ac de hominum est vitd merita, laudetur, ut a plerisqne neglecta, a ?nultis etiam vituperetur. In another place he tells us, that in his time Aristo- tle was not much known, or read, even by the phi- losophers 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 af- fectation 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 demon- strating 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 ad- vantage, be employed. 192 NOTES ON THE 220. Carmine aui tragico, &c] The con- nexion with v. 201, from whence the poet had di- gressed, 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 sub- ject, 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 obsccenos dejlexa tragccdia visits, Multaque prteteriti verba pudoris habet. Trist. 1. ii. v. 40Q. For the tragedy, here referred to, cannot be the re- gular Roman tragedy. That he had distinctly con- sidered before, and, besides, it in no age admitted, much less in this, of which we are speaking, so in- tolerable 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 ; " Comcc- tf . diarum formae sunt tres : Palliatae, Togatae, Atel- " lame, salibus et jocis eompositae, quae in se non ha- " bent nisi vetustam elegantiam." [Prol. in Terent] ART OF POETRY. 193 And Athena?us [1. vi.] speaking of some pieces of this sort, which L. Sylla had composed, calls them o/a, 8ta to s* (ra.TvpiXH |X£Ta£aAe7v, 6xJ/s a.7rsNHI. [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 con- clude that he was the first person who set this ex- ample of composing Atellane plays in the vulgar dialect : which took so much that he was even fol- ART OF POETRY. 199 lowed in this practice bv the Roman General. This account of the matter perfectly suits with the enco- mium given to Pomponius. He would naturally, on such an alteration, endeavour to give this buffoon sort of Comedy a more rational cast : And this re- form of itself would entitle him to great honour. Hence the sensibus Celebris of Paterculus k . 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 bar- barous 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, KATA TINA AH2NA nATPION: That Pomponius afterwards reformed its barbarities, and brought it on the Stage in a Roman dress ; which together were thought so great improvements, that k This, I think, must be the interpretation of sensibus cele- brem, supposing it to be the true reading. But a learned critic has shewn with great appearance of reason, that the text is cor- rupt and should be reformed into sensibus celerem. According to which reading the encomium here past on Pomponius must be understood of his H it, and not the gravity of his moral Sen- tences. Either way his title to the honour of Invention is just the same. — See a Specimen of a new Kdition of Paterculus iu BiBLIOTHEftUE BRITANN'Iftt' E, Juillet, SfC. 1 200 NOTES OK THE 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 Cy- clops, the only piece cf 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 [>?. v. 223.] apo- logized 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 di- version of the vulgar. For while the grotesque ap- pearance, and jesting vein of these fantastic person- ages 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 pro- bability, 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 re- ceives from the characters of the clowns in Shake- ART OF POETRY. 201 spear ; uho, 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 beeu shewn, that the poet could not intend, in these lines, to Jue 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 tiie Bacchic chorus ; which was properly the satyric piece, before iEschylus 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 nadavit, which Lambin rightly interprets, nudos introdu.vit Satyros, the poet herebv expressing the monstrous indecorum of this entertainment in its first unimproved stat'«. 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 uf gravity. For thus, upon tne authority of a very ingenious and learned critic, I explane incolami gravitate, i. e. rejecting every thing serious, bidding fareivcll. as v>e say, to all gravity. Thus [L. iii. O. 5.] Jncolumi Jove et arte Roma : 202 NOTES ON T TIIR /. e. bidding farewell to Jupiter [Capitolinus] and Rome ; agreeably -to what is said just before, Anciliorum et nominis et togas Oblitus, cetemceqite Vest us. or, as salvus is used still more remarkably in Mar- tial [10. 1. v.] Enmus est lecttta salvo iibi, Roma, Marone : Et sua riserunt secula Mosonidem. Farewell, all gravity, is as remote from the ori- ginal sense of the words fare well, as incohmi gra- vitate from that of incolumis, or salvo Marone from that of salvus. 223. Inlecebris erat et grata novitate mo- ran dus 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 KKT OF FORTH Y. 203 ** unworthy his pen. He, who could not bear th« u elegant mimes of Laberius, that he should think " this farcical and obscene trash, worth his peculiar ** notice, is somewhat strange." I doubt not, it ap- peared 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 e 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. 204 VOTES ON THE 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 attend- ed to the drift of the epistle, as to the important use and necessity of the satyric drama. He must other- wise have seen, that, in an essay to improve and re- gulate 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 correc- tion, and not, as visionary projectors use, to pro- pose 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. W hat 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 ab- solutely, and under every shape, to reject. This he judged might most conveniently be done by adopting the Greek Satyrs instead of their own Oscan charac- ters. With tiiis 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 ART OF POETRY. 205 were intended to free it from that obscene and farci- cal trash, which appears to have been no less offen- sive 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 con- sideration. 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. l6\] 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 ohsccenajocantes, Qui semper vetiti crimen amor is habent ? Nec satis incestis temerari vocibus aures, Assuescunt oculi mult a pudenda pati. Trist. I. 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, VOL. I. O 206 NOTES ON THft de Comced. et Tragoed. 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, 1. xvi, c. 7.) and hath left a few elegant, moral scraps behind him. Butwhat 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 fatter 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. Ac- cordingly Diomedes [iii. p. 488. ed. Putsch.] defines it to be an irreverent and lascivious imitation of ob- scene acts — mimus est sermonis cujusUbetmotus sine reverentia, vel factotum et turpium cum lascivia imitatio. And Scaliger himself owns veri mimi proprium esse qu&dam soi'dida ut affectet, loc. cit. It seem, 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. Cohtrov. 1. iii. c. 18.] and its sole end and boast, rim 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 ART OF POETRY. 207 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 connect- ing particle, verum, expresses the opposition in- tended between the original satyr and that which the poet approves. For having insinuated the pro- priety 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 criticis- ing the Atellanes, which came directly in his way, after having closed his account of the Roman tra- gedy, he relates, as it were, incidentally, the prac- tice 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 satyri* drama. NOTES ON THE, 227. Ne GuicuxauE Deus, auicuNatJE adh:~ Pebitur heros, &c] Gods and Heroes were intro- duced as well into the satyric as tragic drama, and often the very same Gods and Heroes, which had born a part in tlie preceding tragedy: a practice, which Horace, I suppose, intended, by this hint, to recom- mend as most regular. This gave the serious, tra- gic 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 justi- fying 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 Grcecorum poetis mihi non " notus :" which reason hath more force, than ap- pears at first sight. For the very nature of this di- version 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 j'uerit persona ridicula :" contrary to what the grammarian repre- sents it. But how so } Busiris was a savage, inhos- pitable tyrant, who sacrificed strangers. And what should hinder this character from being made ridi- culous, as well as Polypheme in the Cyclops ? I'heir characters were not unlike. And, as is seen, in that case, the ancients knew to set forth such. ART OF POETRY. 209 monsters of cruelty in a light, that rendered them equally ahsurd and detestable. This was agreeable to their humanity, which, by such representations, loved to cultivate a spirit of benevolence in the spec tators ; and shews the moral tendency of even the absurdest of the ancient dramatic shews. The ob- jection 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 0 , which I have now by me, as it should seem, from his own hand, " lectionem " vero quam restituimus etiam in optima codice " Puteano postea invenimus." The learned reader will therefore, henceforth, look upon the text of IViomedes, in this place, as fully settled. 220. MlGRET IN OBSCURAS &C. AuT, DUM VI- tat &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 i 0 In the library of Emmanuel College, Cambridge. 210 NOTES ON THE and yet the dignity of her character demanded a de- cent 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 allu- sion to a Roman matron. Conformably to that idea, a plain, unornamented expression [from v. 234 to 236.J must not always be used. The three follows ing 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, in- cline to admit the following conjecture, which, proposes to read, instead of inQrnata, honor at a. 1. The context, I think, requires this change. For the two faults observed above [v. 229, 30.] were, l t a too low expression, and, 2. a too lofty. Corre- sponding to this double charge, the poet having fixed the idea of this species of composition [v. 23 1, 2, 3-] should naturally be led to apply it to both points in questions: ]. to the comic part, in pre- scribing 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 dominantla nomlna solum V zrbaque, Pisones, satijrorum scriptor amabo s ART OF POETRY. 211 e. 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 states liness not agreeing to the condescending levity of the satyr. 2. Aec sic enitar tragico d/fferre colori, lit nihil inter sit Davusne loqnatur, 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 im- proves the expression as well as the sense. For be- sides the opposition, implied in the disjunctive, wee, 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 pro~ priety, 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.] Iwnore indigna vocabula are such words as have parum splendoris and are sine pon- dere. And " qua? 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. 7 1 . 212 NOTES ON THE 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 pe- culiar to the satyrs. For the cast of them being necessarily romantic, and the persons, those fan- tastic beings, called satyrs, the to o/xoiov, or proba- ble, will require the subject to have gained a popular belief, without which the representation must ap- pear unnatural. Now these subjects, which have gained a popular belief, in consequence of old tra- dition, 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, indict a, he, on a like occasion, terms ignota. The con- nexion lies thus. Having mentioned Silenus in v. 239, one of the commonest characters in this drama, an objection immediately offers itself; " but what f good poet will engage in subjects and characters " so trite and hackney 'd ?" The answer is, ex noto, Jictum 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, tan- tum series junctura que pollet. ART OF POETRY. 213 244- Sylvis deducti caveant &c] Having .before [v. 23-2] settled the true idea of the satyric style in general, he now treats of the peculiar lan- guage 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, pn the other. The Jirst of these cautions seems le- veled at a false improvement, vyhich, on the intro- duction of the Roman satyr, was probably at- tempted on the simple, rude plan of the Greek, without considering the rustic extraction and man- ners 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 es- sential 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 Pasto- ral, which have been current in all times, and in all languages, shews there is something very taking iir this poem. And no wonder, since it addresses it- self 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 jn representing to us the tranquillity, the inno- 214 NOTES ON THE cence, 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 instruc- tion, or interest the heart. Hence the different forms, under which this poem hath appeared. Theocritus thought it suffi- cient 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 poefs rule, immunda crepent ignominiosaque dicta. Virgil avoided this extreme. Without depart- ing very widely from the simplicity of rustic nature, his shepherds are more decent, their lives more se- rene, 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 allego- rize these agreeable fancies, and make them the ve- hicles of historical, and sometimes even of philoso- phic, information. Our Spenser wanted to engross all the beauties of his masters : and so, to the artless and too natu- ral drawing of the Greek, added the deep allegorip design of the Latin, poet. ART OF POETRY. 215 One easily sees that this aenigmatic 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 cha- racter, 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 fa- mous Tasso, by an effort of genius which hath done him more honour than even his epic talents, pro- duced 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. Jt 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 pas- toral 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 maimers, 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 } g 1 6 NOTES ON THE 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 in- vention 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 Com us 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 child- ish before, is readily admitted and excused. A sim- ple 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 pur- pose 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 gene- rally followed) and his continuance of the pastoral strain, even to satiety, through Jive 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 besidesj ART OF POETRY. 217 When the distress rises to any height, the wanton- ness of pastoral imagery grows distasteful. Where as the genius of comedy admits of humbler dis- tresses ; 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 5 which, while it so naturally supplies the place of the old sylvan theology, gives a wiklness 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 upoa it by that great critic, as well as wit, Cervantes. He concludes hi? famous adventures, with a kind of project for his knight and squire to turn shepherds : an evident ridicule on the turn ©f 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 218 NOTES ON TH* 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 p indeed pronounces M. de Fontenelle's dis- course 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 ftUIBUS EST EftUUS ET pater et res.] The poet, in his endeavour to re- claim 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 e magna, parte senatus adest. Trist. ii. v. 501. P Mr. Hume, Of Simplicity amd Refujbmenx. ART OF POETRY. 219 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 sa- tyrs, 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. * 1. ii. c. met. Iamb.] trisyllabo pede et maxime " tribraches 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 undistin- guishing 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' h'mself in the following manner: " Les " Romains donnoient encore le nom de Satvre a 64 une espece de Place Pastorale ; qui tenoit. dit on 220 NOTES ON THE " le milieu entre la Tragedie et la Comedie. (Test " tout ce que nous en scavons" \JSlem. de VHist. des Belles Lett. torn. xvii. p. 211.] 264. Et data Romanis venia est indigna poe- tis.] It appears certainly, that what is said here concerning the metre of dramatic poems, was pecu- liarly calculated for the correction of the Roman negligence, and inaccuracy in this respect. This, if it had not been so expresly to!d 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 cor- responding defects in the state of the Roman stage. 2~0. At vestri proavi Plautinos et numeros et laudavere sales ; nimium pati enter utrum- avE, Ne dicam stulte, mirati ;] It hath been thought strange, that Horace should pass so severe a censure on the wit of Plautns, which yet appeared to Cicero so admirable, that he speaks of it as elegans, urbanum, ingeniosum, facetum. [De Off. i. 2y.J Nor can it be said, that this difference of judgment was owing to the improved delicacy of taste for wit, ART OF POETRY. 221 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 cen- " sures, 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 Plau- tus' wit in the main, and, but in this view, probably had not criticized him at all, I collect from his ex- press 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 r6s. IUl, scripta quibus comcedia 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 Grceca exemplaria, i. e. as his cri- tics understand him, to Aristophanes, and the other writers of the old Comedy ; but such a direction in this place, were altogether improper, and the sup- position is, besides, a palpable mistake. For the. vol. 1. p .222 NOTES ON THE Gra'ca exomplaria are referred to onh/, 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 PlauT tus, and the old corned}-. 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 Ci- cero in effect owns, when he tells us, the main end of jesting at the bar [De Orat. ccxl.] is, not to ac- quire the credit of consummate humour, but to carry the cause, nt projiciamus aliquid : that is, to make an impression on the people ; which is gene- rally, 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 ART OF POETRY. 323 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 Ouin- tilian, in his account of it, expresly observes of the old comedy. Xescio an ulla poesis (post Homerum) aut simiiior sit oratoribus, aut ad oratores fa- ciendos aptior. The reason, doubtless, was, that strength, and prompt and eloquent freedom, fires et facundissimu lihertas, which he had before ob- served, 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 Angustan age; not- withstanding 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, participat- ing more of the freedom of the old comic banter, and rejecting, as improper to its end, the refine- ments of the new, insensibly depraved the public taste ; which, by degrees only, and not till a studied and cautious declamation had, by the necessary in- fluence of absolute power, succeeded to the liberty p 2 224 NOTES ON THE of their old oratory, was fully reconciled to the de- licacy and strict decorum of Menander's wit. E-en the case of Terence, which, at first sight, might seem to bear hard against it, corifin s this account. This poet, struck with the suor me elegance of Menander's manner, and attempting too soon, be- fore 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 Phorni. The sense of which, is not, as his commentator* have idly thought, that his style was low and trijling, for this could never be pretended, but that his dialogue was insipid, and his cliaracters, and, in general, his whole composition, without that comic heightening, which their vitiated tastes re- quired. This further appears from those common verses of Caesar, where, characterizing the genius of Terence's plays, as devoid of this comic spirit, he calls them lenia scripta : Lenibus atque utinam scriptis adjuncta foretvis Comic a : words, which are the clearest comment on the lines in question. ART OF POETRY. S25 But this famous judgment of Caesar 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 an- swer 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. I. The most judicious critic of antiquity, when he is purposely considering the excellencies of the Creek comedians, and, what is more, expo- sing 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 226- NOTES ON THE elegant, is but the faintest shadow of the Greek, comedy. But then his reason is, quod sermo ipse Roma mis von recipere videatur Mam solis conces- som Atticis venerem. [L. x. 1.] It seems then as if the main defect, which this critic observed in Te- rence'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 earn ne Grceci quidem in alio genere Unguce 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 tvant, 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 hu- mour. Of which kind is that in the Hecyra : Turn ta i'gitur nihil adtulisti hue plus und sen- tentid ? ART OF POETRY. 227 For these reasons I should suppose that Menander and the writers of the new comedy, from w hom Terence copied, had little of this beauty. But what shall we say then to Caesar's dimidiate Mcnander ? It refers, I believe, solely to what Ouintilian, 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 Cccsar leads to this meaning. Tu quoque, tu in sunimis, 6 dimidiate Mcnander, Poneris, et merito, puri sermosts amator. . His excellence consisted in the purity and urba- nity 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 Caesar's address carries with it the highest compli- ment. Ouintilian had said in relation to this point, Vix levem consequ'nnur umbram. But Caesar, in a fond admiration of his merit, cries out, Tu quoque, • tu in summis, 6 dimidiate AJe- NANDER. His censure of him is delivered in the following lines : Lcnibus atque utinam scriptis adjunctaforet vis Comica, ut cequato virtus polleret honore Cum Gnecis, neque in hdc despectus parte jaceres ; Vnum hoc maccror et doleo tibi deesse, Terenti. 22$ NOTES ON THE Which, again, gives no countenance to the suppo- sition 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 — cequato virtus po/leret honore cum Gr^cis. And this was what occasioned Caesar'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 farther 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 Caesar 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 ap- peared on it. Nay the humour continued through the Augustan age 0 , when, as we learn from Horace, in many parts of his writings, the public applause still followed Plautus ■ in whom though himself o And no wonder, when, as Suetonius tells us, the emperor himself was so delighted with the old comedy, [c. 89.] ART OF POETRY. 229 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 Ouintilian are perfectly charmed : ita omnem vita; imaginem expressit, ita est omnibus rebus, personis, aff'ectibus accommpdatus. This character, one would think, should have fitted him also for a complete model to the orator. And this, as might he ex- pected, 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 : rel anus, diligenter lectus, ad cuncta efficienda sujjiciat, 1. x. c. 1. Yet Ci- cero, 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 Home, where an orator was much more likely to 230 NOTES ON THE 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 DitTO.] 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 ex- pected from their exquisite discernment in other instances. Even Horace himself, though his pic- tures of life are. commonly the most delicate, and wrought up in the highest beauty of humour, yet, when he arTeets 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 grassier, in the whole cast of ancient wit; which is rather a kind of rude, illiberal satire, than a just and tem- perate ridicule, restrained by the exact rules of civility and good setose, 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 ex- emples, quoique vijs et bans en leur genre, ont que/que chose de imp dur, qui ne s'accommoderoit pas a tint re maniere de rirre ; et ee seroit ce que nous appeltons rompre en visiers, que dedire. en face des veritez aussi forts que cellcs-la. [llec. de bons ART OF POETRY. 231 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 men- tions corporal infirmities [DeOr. 1. ii. c. 59.] as one of the most legitimate sources of the ridiculous. Est deformitatis et corporis vitiorum satis hella materies. And in another place, Valde ridentur etiam imagines, qace fere in deformitatem, aut in aliquod vitium corporis ducuntur cum similitudine titrpioris, &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 miM for** mam ipse fingere, [ib. c. 65.] The universal pre- valence 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 pro- 232 NOTES ON THE duced and indulged the utmost freedom of expression, uninfluenced by hopes of favour, and unawed by fear of personal ofience; 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 defor- mities ; 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, l. The orators, who catched it from the constitution themselves, contri- buted in their turn to forward and help on this dis- position to uncivilized mirth. For, the form of their government requiring immediate, and almost con- tinual, 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, expo- sing their adversary to the broad mirth of the popu- lace, by enlarging on his /oir stature, ugh/ 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 Cieero himself. 2. From the Forum rhe humour insensibly spread amongst all orders, and particu- larly, amongst the writers for the stage, where it was ART OF POETRY. 233 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 reasomalready {riven, were none of the most observant of decorum) but, as we shall also rind, it had perhaps the greatest influence in producing and farming that spirit itself. This will appear, if we recollect, in fevr words, the rise, progress, and character of the an- cient 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 aro^e, and with a character answering to tins original, the sati/r/c 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 whe n tragedy, which arose out of it, was brought to its last perfection. Much the same may be ob- served of the Roman drama, which, we are told, had its rise in the unrestrained festivity of the rustic youth. This gave occasion to their Satyrae. that is, medleys of an irregular form, acted for the diversion of the people. And, when afterwards Livius Andro- nicus had, by a further reform, reduced these Satyr se 234 NOTES ON THE into regular tragedies, another species of buffoon ridicule was cultivated, under the name of Atellanoe fabulce ; which, according to Diomedes' character of them, were replete ivith jocular witticisms, and very much resembled the Greek satyrs. Diet is jo- cular ilms refertce, similes fere sunt safyricis jabu- lis Grwcorum. These were ever after retained, and annexed to their most regular dramatic entertain- ments 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 w : as 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 Satyrcc them- selves, 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 bf it, seems to have been the festal licence of particular seasons, such as the Dionysia and Panathencea, amongst the Greeks ; and the Bacchanalia and Saturnalia, at Rome. These latter, it is observable, were continued to the latest vPT OF POETRY. 235 period of the Roman empire, preserving in them an image, as weii of the frank and libertine wit of their old stage, as of the original equality and indepen- dency of their old times. Ouintilian tb reks, That, with some regulation, good use might have been made of these seasons of licence, for the Itivating 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 : Qubi illce ipsce, qure mexx'sunt ac vocantur, quas certis diebus fester licenfice dicere solebnmus, si paulum adhibita ratione Jingerentur, aid all quid in his se- rium quoque esset admtxtum, ■plurimum poterunt utilit&t'is ajferrc: qurr nunc juvenum, out sibi luden- tium esrercitatio eat. [Quint. 1. 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 Sympo- sium, even in that polite age, welcome to all com- panies P. P This is further confirmed from Lvtcian, who, in the descrip- tion of a splendid feast in his AAEKTPTfiN, and in the .Sym- posium of his AAniQAT, brings in the rEAfiTOITOIOI as necessary attendants on the entertainment. — Eut the reader will not take what is said of the fine satyr cf Xenophon's Symposium, who hath not observed, that this sort of compositions, which were in great credit with the ancients, arc of the nature of dramas, HQIKOI AOrOI, .as Aristotle would call them. In which the dialogists, who arc rval personages as in the old comedy, give a liver/, and sometimes (exaggerated expression of t heir own characters. Under thL? idea of a Symposium we are prepared to expect bad characters 236 NOTES ON THE 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 recur- ring 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 as well as good. Nothing in the kind of composition itself con- fined the writer to the latter; and the decorum of a festal conver- satit a, which, in a republic especially, would hare a mixture of satyr in it, seemed to demand the former. We see then the un- doubted 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 dis- courses are ever liable, Socrates is brought in to correct the loose- ness of them, in both dialogues, and in some measure doth the office of the dramatic chorus, bonis kavendi. But it is the less Btrange that the modems have not apprehended the genius of these Symposia, when AthenjKUS, 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. Bat 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. ART OF POETRY. 237 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 lioinan 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 con- tinuance 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 rea- sons 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 Entirely, 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 b 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 speCTTneri VOL. T. Q. 23 S NOTES ON THE of that strong, yet elegant ridicule, which hath never yet been equalled by any other nation in the world, . 275. Ignotum tragicae genus invenisse ca- menae, &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 divi- sion 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 me- thod, in which it is conducted, extremely proper. 1. To shew, how great the advantage of their situa- tion 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 pro- portion on the stage of iEschylus ; and their comedy also (which, from that time, began to be cultivated) asserting its proper character, and, but for the culpa- ble omission of a chorus, reaching the full extent and perfection of its kind. ART OF POETRY. 229 2. To shew, what still remained to them, he brings down the history of tragedy no lower than iEschylus; under whom it received its due form and all the essen- tials of its nature, yet still wanted, to its absolute per- fcx ti >n, the further accuracy and correctness of a So- photles. And, for their comedy, he hints the prin- - cipal defect of that ; its omission, after the manner of the new comedy, of the chorus. There is great ad- dress in this conduct. The censure also implied in it, is perfectly just. For, 1. the character of the Ro- man tragedy, in the times of Horace, was exactly that of iEschylus. ^Eschylus, says Quintilian, was the first. " qui protidit tragoedias," i. e. who composed true legitimate tragedies, subiimis et gravis et gran- diloquus swpe usque ad vitium ; sed rudis in pleris- que et incompositus [L. x. c. i.] the very descrip- tion, which Horace gives [2 Ep. i. 16*5.] of the Roman tragedy. natura subiimis et acer, Nam spirat tragicum satis et feliciter audet ; Sed turpem putat inscitus rneiuitque lituram. 2. The state of their comedy, as managed by their best writers, Afranius and Terence, was, in- deed, 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 Uqucre poetce, &c. a 2 240 NOTES ON THE /. e. our poets, as well as the Greek, have, in some degree, applied themselves to improve and reguTate the stage. In particular, a late innovation, in taking tlieir subjects, both of tragedy and comedy, from domestic facts, is highly to be applauded. Their sole disadvantage is, a neglect or contempt ofthaf labour and accuracy, which gave the last perfection to the Grpek scene. After this clear and natural exposition of the con- nexion 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 axoAe9;ai/, or consistent, natural order in this part of the epistle; which was in imminent danger of losing all its grace and beaut)-, by the wild trans- positions of that critic. 278. Post hunc personae pallaegiue, &c] M. J)acier hath here puzzled himself with a difficulty of his own raising. He wonders, that Horace should omit, in this history, the other improvements of JEs- chylus, 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 constitu- tion of the drama, speaks of such changes, made in it by iEschylus, as respected that end. Horace, treat- ART OF POETRY. 241 ng in general of its form, as perfected by the pains and application of the same poet,selects those improve- ments only, which contrast best to the rude essays of Thespis, and, while they imply the rest, exhibit tra- gedy, as it were, in her proper person, on the stage. The reader feels the effect of this in the poetry. 2SS. VEL Q.UI PRAETEXTAS, VEL &UI DOCUERE togatas.] There hath been much difficulty here in settling a very plain point. The question is, whether prcctextas means tragedy, or a species of comedy ? The answer is very clear from Diomedes, whose account is, in short, this. " 1 Togatce is a " general term for all sorts of Latin plays, adopting " the Roman customs and dresses ; as Palliatce is, " for all, adopting the Grecian. Of the Togatce, the " several * species are, 1 . Praetexta, or Prcetextata, in which Roman kings and generals were intro- Jf dueed, and is so called, because the prcetexta was " the distinguishing habit of such persons. 2. Ta- f< hernaria, frequently called 3 Togata, though that li word, as we have seen, had properly a larger (i sense. 3. Atellana. 4. Planipedis." He next marks the difference of these several sorts of Togatce, from the similar, corresponding ones of the Pal- liata', which are these: "1. 4 Tragcedia, abso- lutely so styled. 2. 5 Comcedia. 3. e Satyri. " 4. 7 MT/xo£." [These four sorts of the palliatce were also probably in use at Rome ; certainly, at least, the two former.] It appears then from hence, 242 NOTES ON THE that proetexfata was properly the Roman tragedy. But he adds, " Togata prcvtextata a tragcedia « differt, and it is also said, to be only like, tra- " gedy, tragcedice similis." What is this difference and this likeness ? The explanation follows. " 8 He- " roes are introduced in tragedy, such as Orestes, " Chryses, and the like. In the praetextata, Bru- " tus, Decius, or Marcellus." So then we see, when Graecian charae^rs were introduced,, it was called simply tragcedia j when Roman, prcetextata j yet both, tragedies. The sole differt i ice la)' in the persons being foreign or domestic. The correspondence in every other respect was exact. The same is ob- served of the Roman comedy ; when it adopted 9 Greek characters, it was called comccdia: when Roman, 20 Togata Tahemaria, or 3 Togata, sim- ply. That the reader may assure himself of the fidelity of this account, let him take it at large, in the Grammarian's own words. " togata? fabulae " dicuntur, qua? scriptae sunt secundum ritus et " habitus hominum togatorum, id est, Rornanorum " (Toga namque Romana est), sicut Graecas fabulas