Chapter VII: Book XII: Argument (3)

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 13: Note I.]

[Footnote 14: Note IV.]

NOTES

ON

ÆNEÏS, BOOK XII.

Note I.

_At this, a flood, of tears Lavinia shed; }
A crimson blush her beauteous face o'erspread, } P. 146.
Varying her cheeks by turns with white and red._ }

Amata, ever partial to the cause of Turnus, had just before desired him, with all manner of earnestness, not to engage his rival in single fight; which was his present resolution. Virgil, though (in favour of his hero) he never tells us directly that Lavinia preferred Turnus to Æneas, yet has insinuated this preference twice before. For mark, in the seventh Æneïd, she left her father, (who had promised her to Æneas without asking her consent,) and followed her mother into the woods, with a troop of Bacchanals, where Amata sung the marriage-song, in the name of Turnus; which, if she had disliked, she might have opposed. Then, in the eleventh Æneïd, when her mother went to the temple of Pallas, to invoke her aid against Æneas, whom she calls by no better name than _Phrygius prædo_, Lavinia sits by her in the same chair or litter, _juxtaque comes Lavinia virgo,--oculos dejecta decoros_. What greater sign of love, than fear and concernment for the lover? In the lines which I have quoted, she not only sheds tears, but changes colour. She had been bred up with Turnus; and Æneas was wholly a stranger to her. Turnus, in probability, was her first love, and favoured by her mother, who had the ascendant over her father. But I am much deceived, if (besides what I have said) there be not a secret satire against the sex, which is lurking under this description of Virgil, who seldom speaks well of women--better indeed of Camilla, than any other--for he commends her beauty and valour--because he would concern the reader for her death. But valour is no very proper praise for woman-kind; and beauty is common to the sex. He says also somewhat of Andromache, but transiently: and his Venus is a better mother than a wife; for she owns to Vulcan she had a son by another man. The rest are Junos, Dianas, Didos, Amatas, two mad prophetesses, three Harpies on earth, and as many Furies under ground. This fable of Lavinia includes a secret moral; that women, in their choice of husbands, prefer the younger of their suitors to the elder; are insensible of merit, fond of handsomeness, and, generally speaking, rather hurried away by their appetite, than governed by their reason.

Note II.

_Sea-born Messapus, with Atinas, heads
The Latin squadrons, and to battle leads._--P. 166.

The poet had said, in the preceding lines, that Mnestheus, Serestus, and Asylas, led on the Trojans, the Tuscans, and the Arcadians: but none of the printed copies, which I have seen, mention any leader of the Rutulians and Latins, but Messapus the son of Neptune. Ruæus takes notice of this passage, and seems to wonder at it; but gives no reason, why Messapus is alone without a coadjutor.

The four verses of Virgil run thus:

_Totæ adeo conversæ acies, omnesque Latini,
Omnes Dardanidæ; Mnestheus, ucerque Serestus,
Et Messapus equûm domitor, et fortis Asylas,
Tuscorumque phalanx, Evandrique Arcades alæ._

I doubt not but the third line was originally thus:

_Et Messapus equûm domitor, et fortis Atinas:_

for the two names of Asylas and Atinas are so like, that one might easily be mistaken for the other by the transcribers. And to fortify this opinion, we find afterward, in the relation of Saces to Turnus, that Atinas is joined with Messapus:

_Soli, pro portis, Messapus et acer Atinas
Sustentant aciem_----

In general I observe, not only in this Æneïd, but in all the six last Books, that Æneas is never seen on horseback, and but once before, as I remember, in the fourth, where he hunts with Dido. The reason of this, if I guess aright, was a secret compliment which the poet made to his countrymen the Romans, the strength of whose armies consisted most in foot, which, I think, were all Romans and Italians. But their wings or squadrons were made up of their allies, who were foreigners.

Note III.

_This let me beg (and this no fates withstand)
Both for myself and for your father's land, &c._--P. 176.

The words in the original are these:

_Pro Latio obtestor, pro majestate tuorum_.

Virgil very artfully uses here the word _majestas_, which the Romans loved so well, that they appropriated it to themselves--_Majestas populi Romani_. This title, applied to kings, is very modern; and that is all I will say of it at present, though the word requires a larger note. In the word _tuorum_, is included the sense of my translation, _Your father's land_, because Saturn, the father of Jove, had governed that part of Italy, after his expulsion from Crete. But that on which I most insist, is the address of the poet, in this speech of Juno. Virgil was sufficiently sensible, as I have said in the preface, that whatever the common opinion was, concerning the descent of the Romans from the Trojans, yet the ancient customs, rites, laws, and habits of those Trojans were wholly lost, and perhaps also that they had never been: and, for this reason, he introduces Juno in this place, requesting of Jupiter that no memory might remain of Troy (the town she hated), that the people hereafter should not be called Trojans, nor retain any thing which belonged to their predecessors. And why might not this also be concerted betwixt our author and his friend Horace, to hinder Augustus from re-building Troy, and removing thither the seat of empire, a design so unpleasing to the Romans? But of this I am not positive, because I have not consulted Dacier, and the rest of the critics, to ascertain the time in which Horace writ the ode relating to that subject.

Note IV.

_Deep in the dismal regions void of light,
Three daughters, at a birth, were born to Night._--P. 177.

The father of these (not here mentioned) was Acheron: the names of the three were Alecto, Megæra, and Tisiphone. They were called Furies in hell, on earth Harpies, and in heaven Diræ. Two of these assisted at the throne of Jupiter, and were employed by him to punish the wickedness of mankind. These two must be Megæra and Tisiphone--not Alecto; for Juno expressly commands her to return to hell, from whence she came; and gives this reason:

_Te super ætherias errare licentius auras
Haud pater ipse velit, summi regnator Olympi,
Cede locis_.

Probably this Dira, unnamed by the poet in this place, might be Tisiphone; for, though we find her in hell, in the Sixth Æneïd, employed in the punishment of the damned,

_Continuo sontes ultrix, accincta flagello,
Tisiphone quatit insultans, &c._

yet afterwards she is on earth in the tenth Æneïd, and amidst the battle,

_Pallida Tisiphone media inter millia sævit_--

which I guess to be Tisiphone, the rather, by the etymology of her name, which is compounded of τιω ulciscor, and φονος cœdes; part of her errand being to affright Turnus with the stings of a guilty conscience, and denounce vengeance against him for breaking the first treaty, by refusing to yield Lavinia to Æneas, to whom she was promised by her father--and, consequently, for being the author of an unjust war; and also for violating the second treaty, by declining the single combat, which he had stipulated with his rival, and called the gods to witness before their altars. As for the names of the Harpies, (so called on earth,) Hesiod tells us they were Iris, Aëllo, and Ocypete. Virgil calls one of them Celæno: this, I doubt not, was Alecto, whom Virgil calls, in the Third Æneïd, _Furiarum maxima_, and in the sixth again by the same name--_Furiarum maxima juxta accubat_. That she was the chief of the Furies, appears by her description in the Seventh Æneïd; to which, for haste, I refer the reader.

POSTSCRIPT

TO

THE READER.

What Virgil wrote in the vigour of his age, in plenty and at ease, I have undertaken to translate in my declining years; struggling with wants, oppressed with sickness, curbed in my genius, liable to be misconstrued in all I write; and my judges, if they are not very equitable, already prejudiced against me, by the lying character which has been given them of my morals. Yet, steady to my principles, and not dispirited with my afflictions, I have, by the blessing of God on my endeavours, overcome all difficulties, and, in some measure, acquitted myself of the debt which I owed the public when I undertook this work. In the first place, therefore, I thankfully acknowledge to the Almighty Power the assistance he has given me in the beginning, the prosecution, and conclusion, of my present studies, which are more happily performed than I could have promised to myself, when I laboured under such discouragements. For, what I have done, imperfect as it is for want of health and leisure to correct it, will be judged in after-ages, and possibly in the present, to be no dishonour to my native country, whose language and poetry would be more esteemed abroad, if they were better understood. Somewhat (give me leave to say) I have added to both of them in the choice of words, and harmony of numbers, which were wanting (especially the last) in all our poets, even in those who, being endued with genius, yet have not cultivated their mother-tongue with sufficient care; or, relying on the beauty of their thoughts, have judged the ornament of words, and sweetness of sound, unnecessary. One is for raking in Chaucer (our English Ennius) for antiquated words, which are never to be revived, but when sound or significancy is wanting in the present language. But many of his deserve not this redemption, any more than the crowds of men who daily die, or are slain for sixpence in a battle, merit to be restored to life, if a wish could revive them. Others have no ear for verse, nor choice of words, nor distinction of thoughts; but mingle farthings with their gold, to make up the sum. Here is a field of satire opened to me: but, since the Revolution, I have wholly renounced that talent: for who would give physic to the great, when he is uncalled--to do his patient no good, and endanger himself for his prescription? Neither am I ignorant, but I may justly be condemned for many of those faults, of which I have too liberally arraigned others.

----_Cynthius aurem
Vellit, et admonuit_----

It is enough for me, if the government will let me pass unquestioned. In the mean time, I am obliged, in gratitude, to return my thanks to many of them, who have not only distinguished me from others of the same party, by a particular exception of grace, but, without considering the man, have been bountiful to the poet--have encouraged Virgil to speak such English as I could teach him, and rewarded his interpreter for the pains he has taken in bringing him over into Britain, by defraying the charges of his voyage. Even Cerberus, when he had received the sop, permitted Æneas to pass freely to Elysium. Had it been offered me, and I had refused it, yet still some gratitude is due to such who were willing to oblige me: but how much more to those from whom I have received the favours which they have offered to one of a different persuasion! amongst whom I cannot omit naming the Earls of Derby[15] and of Peterborough[16]. To the first of these I have not the honour to be known; and therefore his liberality was as much unexpected, as it was undeserved. The present Earl of Peterborough has been pleased long since to accept the tenders of my service: his favours are so frequent to me, that I receive them almost by prescription. No difference of interests or opinion has been able to withdraw his protection from me. And I might justly be condemned for the most unthankful of mankind, if I did not always preserve for him a most profound respect and inviolable gratitude. I must also add, that, if the last Æneïd shine amongst its fellows, it is owing to the commands of Sir William Trumball,[17] one of the principal secretaries of state, who recommended it, as his favourite, to my care; and, for his sake particularly, I have made it mine: for who would confess weariness, when he enjoined a fresh labour? I could not but invoke the assistance of a Muse, for this last office.

_Extremum hunc, Arethusa----
----Negat quis carmina Gallo?_

Neither am I to forget the noble present which was made me by Gilbert Dolben, Esq. the worthy son of the late Archbishop of York,[18] who, when I began this work, enriched me with all the several editions of Virgil, and all the commentaries of those editions in Latin; amongst which, I could not but prefer the Dauphin's, as the last, the shortest, and the most judicious. Fabrini[19] I had also sent me from Italy; but either he understands Virgil very imperfectly, or I have no knowledge of my author.

Being invited by that worthy gentleman, Sir William Bowyer, to Denham Court, I translated the First Georgic at his house, and the greatest part of the last Æneïd.[20] A more friendly entertainment no man ever found. No wonder, therefore, if both those versions surpass the rest, and own the satisfaction I received in his converse, with whom I had the honour to be bred in Cambridge, and in the same college. The Seventh Æneïd was made English at Burleigh, the magnificent abode of the Earl of Exeter.[21] In a village belonging to his family I was born;[22] and under his roof I endeavoured to make that Æneïd appear in English with as much lustre as I could; though my author has not given the finishing strokes either to it, or to the eleventh, as I perhaps could prove in both, if I durst presume to criticise my master.

By a letter from William Walsh, of Abberley, Esq.[23] (who has so long honoured me with his friendship, and who, without flattery, is the best critic of our nation,) I have been informed, that his grace the Duke of Shrewsbury[24] has procured a printed copy of the Pastorals, Georgics, and six first Æneïds, from my bookseller, and has read them in the country, together with my friend. This noble person having been pleased to give them a commendation, which I presume not to insert, has made me vain enough to boast of so great a favour, and to think I have succeeded beyond my hopes; the character of his excellent judgment, the acuteness of his wit, and his general knowledge of good letters, being known as well to all the world, as the sweetness of his disposition, his humanity, his easiness of access, and desire of obliging those who stand in need of his protection, are known to all who have approached him, and to me in particular, who have formerly had the honour of his conversation. Whoever has given the world the translation of part of the Third Georgic, which he calls "The Power of Love," has put me to sufficient pains to make my own not inferior to his;[25] as my Lord Roscommon's "Silenus" had formerly given me the same trouble. The most ingenious Mr Addison of Oxford has also been as troublesome to me as the other two, and on the same account. After his "Bees," my latter swarm is scarcely worth the hiving.[26] Mr Cowley's "Praise of a Country Life" is excellent, but is rather an imitation of Virgil, than a version. That I have recovered, in some measure, the health which I had lost by too much application to this work, is owing, next to God's mercy, to the skill and care of Dr Guibbons[27] and Dr Hobbs,[28] the two ornaments of their profession, whom I can only pay by this acknowledgment. The whole faculty has always been ready to oblige me; and the only one of them, who endeavoured to defame me, had it not in his power.[29] I desire pardon from my readers for saying so much in relation to myself, which concerns not them; and, with my acknowledgments to all my subscribers, have only to add, that the few Notes which follow, are _par manière d'acquit_, because I had obliged myself by articles to do somewhat of that kind.[30] These scattering observations are rather guesses at my author's meaning in some passages, than proofs that so he meant. The unlearned may have recourse to any poetical dictionary in English, for the names of persons, places, or fables, which the learned need not: but that little which I say, is either new or necessary; and the first of these qualifications never fails to invite a reader, if not to please him.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 15: William Richard George, ninth earl of Derby. He died 5th November, 1702. He joined early in the Revolution.]

[Footnote 16: Charles Mordaunt, third earl of Peterborough, and first earl of Monmouth of his family, is one of the most heroic characters, according to ancient ideas of heroism, which occur in English history. Under every disadvantage of want of money, and provisions, and men, from England, of the united opposition of France, and almost all Spain, and of the untoward and untractable disposition of Charles of Austria, he had almost placed that prince upon the Spanish throne, in defiance of all opposition, as well as of Charles's own imprudence. With an army, which never amounted to 10,000 men, he drove triple the number out of Spain before him; and, had he not been removed by a wretched intrigue, he would have secured the kingdom, which he had effectually conquered. Like other heroes, he was attached to literature, and especially to poetry; and the conqueror of Spain was the patron of Dryden, and the friend of Swift, Pope, and Gay. He was a keen Whig, but not in favour with his party. "It is a perfect jest," says Swift, in a letter to Archbishop King, 5th February, 1707-8, "to see my Lord Peterborough, reputed as great a Whig as any man in England, abhorred by his own party, and caressed by the Tories." This great man died at Lisbon, 1737, aged seventy-seven.]

[Footnote 17: The name of Sir William Trumball is eminent among those statesmen, who, amidst the fatigues of state, have found leisure to cultivate the Muses. He had been ambassador to France and Constantinople; and, in 1695, was raised to the high situation mentioned in the text. In 1697, he resigned his employments, and retired to East Hamstead, in Berkshire, where he early distinguished the youthful genius of Pope. During the remaining years of Sir William's life, the young bard and the old statesman were almost inseparable companions.]

[Footnote 18: Gilbert was the eldest son of John Dolben, Archbishop of York; a man distinguished for bravery in the civil wars, and for dignity of conduct in his episcopal station. Sir William Trumball wrote a character of him, which is inserted in the new edition of the _Biographia_, Vol. V. p. 330. The archbishop is celebrated by Dryden, as a friend of David, in the first part of "Absalom and Achitophel." See Vol. IX. p. 243, 303. Of Gilbert Dolben's life, the munificence extended to Dryden is perhaps the most memorable incident.]

[Footnote 19: Printed at Venice, 1623. His countrymen claim for Fabrini more respect than Dryden allows him.]

[Footnote 20: Dryden gives a beautiful description of this spot in a note on the beginning of the Second Georgic, Vol. XIV. p. 49.]

[Footnote 21: John Cecil, fifth earl of Exeter. He was a non-juror, and lived in retirement at his noble seat of Burleigh. Prior was early patronised by his lordship; and dates from his mansion the lively epistle to Fleetwood Shepherd. Mr Malone supposes Prior may have assisted in composing his epitaph, where his character is thus elegantly drawn: _Johannes Cecil, Baro de Burghley, Exoniæ comes, magni Burleii abnepos haudquaquam degener. Egregiam enim indolem optimis moribus optimis artibus excoluit. Humanioribus literis bene instructus, peregre, plus vice simplici, profectus est. Et ab excultis Europæ regionibus, multam antiquitatum linguarum, necnon et rerum civilium scientiam reportavit. Cum nemo fortê meliùs vel aulam ornare, vel curare respublicas posset, maluit tamen otium et secessum. Itaque ruri suo vixit, eleganter, sumptuose, splendide, liberalibus studiis oblectatus, amicis comis et jocundus, egenis largus, legum et ecclesiæ Anglicanæ fortis semper propugnator._]

[Footnote 22: Aldwincle, in Northamptonshire.]

[Footnote 23: See Vol. XIII. p. 297.]

[Footnote 24: Charles Talbot, the twelfth earl, and only duke of Shrewsbury. He was bred a Catholic; but renounced the tenets of Rome during the time of the Popish plot. Previous to the Revolution, he had so strong a sense of the necessity of that measure, that he mortgaged his estate for 40,000l. and retired into Holland, for the purpose of offering his fealty, and sword, to the Prince of Orange. Accordingly, when that great enterprize succeeded, he was advanced to the ducal dignity, and loaded with office and honours. In 1700, the Duke went upon the Continent for his health; and, on his return, finding the Whigs disgusted at his having married a foreign lady, having visited Rome, and, above all, having declined to enter actively into their measures, he joined the Tories; he assisted in bringing about the peace of Utrecht, being appointed ambassador extraordinary for that purpose; and, finally, went to Ireland as lord-lieutenant. He died 1st February, 1717-18.--Mackay, or Davis, gives him the following character.

"Never was a greater mixture of honour, virtue, [_none_] and good sense, in any one person, than in him. A great man, attended with a sweetness of behaviour and easiness of conversation, _which charms all_ who come near him: Nothing of the stiffness of a statesman, yet the capacity and knowledge of a piercing wit. He speaks French and Italian as well as his native language: and, although but one eye, yet he has a very charming countenance, and is the most generally beloved by the ladies of any gentleman in his time. He is turned of forty years old."

The little word _none_, within the crotchets, is inserted by Swift. That wit elsewhere describes the duke "as a person of admirable qualities; and, if he were somewhat more active, and less timorous in business, no man would be thought comparable to him."--_Letter to Archbishop King, 20th May, 1712._]

[Footnote 25: Mr Malone conjectures the concealed translator may have been Lord Lansdowne, author of the poem which precedes that translation in the Miscellanies.]

[Footnote 26: Alluding to a translation of the Third Book of the Georgics, exclusive of the story of Aristæus, which appeared in the third volume of the Miscellanies; by the famous Addison, then of Queen's College, Oxford.]

[Footnote 27: The same of whom Dryden elsewhere says,

"Guibbons but guesses, nor is sure to save."
]

[Footnote 28: Also an eminent physician of the time, ridiculed, in the "Dispensary," under the title of Guiacum.]

[Footnote 29: Alluding to his ancient foe, Sir Richard Blackmore. See the "Epistle to Dryden of Chesterton," and the conclusion of the Preface to the Fables.]

[Footnote 30: A passage in a letter from our author to Jacob Tonson, dated probably February 1695-6, lets us know yet more plainly, that to the niggard disposition of this bookseller, we owe that the notes, as here acknowledged, were rather slurred over, than written with due care: "I am not sorry that you will not allow any thing towards the Notes; for, to make them good, would have cost me half a year's time at least. Those I write shall be only marginal, to help the unlearned, who understand not the poetical fables. The Prefaces, as I intend them, will be somewhat more learned. It would require seven years to translate Virgil exactly; but, I promise you once more, to do my best in the four remaining Books, as I have hitherto done in the foregoing.--Upon trial, I find all of your trade are sharpers, and you not more than others; therefore, I have not wholly left you. Mr Aston does not blame you for getting as good a bargain as you could, though I could have got a hundred pounds more; and you might have spared almost all your trouble, if you had thought fit to publish the proposals for the first subscriptions, for I have guineas offered me every day, if there had been room; I believe, modestly speaking, I have refused already twenty-five. I mislike nothing in your letter, therefore, but only your upbraiding me with the public encouragement, and my own reputation concerned in the notes; when I assure you I could not make them to my mind in less than half a year's time."]

POEMS

ASCRIBED TO DRYDEN.

_In this last division of poetry, those poems are placed
which have been ascribed to Dryden upon grounds more or less
satisfactory, yet do not seem entitled to be classed with his
acknowledged writings. To some of them he doubtless lent his
assistance, either from friendship to the author, or to the cause
in which they were written. But, even in these, the hand of Dryden
is not so effectually distinguished from that of the inferior
artist, as to entitle them to be removed from the apocryphal
station which is here assigned. Others I would have discarded
altogether, but from the consideration that they were not of great
length, and that the first complete edition of Dryden should
contain all that has hitherto been ascribed to our immortal Bard,
even upon loose and uncertain grounds._

AN ESSAY UPON SATIRE.

Among the pieces fathered upon Dryden, without satisfactory reason, this contains as little internal evidence as any of having received even the touches of that great master. Yet, as is mentioned in the Life of our poet, the suspicion of being the author subjected him to the cowardly revenge of Rochester, who hired bravoes to beat Dryden, in return for the severity with which he is here treated. The versification is so harsh, and the satire so coarse and clumsy, that I can hardly consent to think that Dryden did more than revise and correct it. If he added a few lines here and there, he had so industriously levelled them with the rest of the performance, that they cannot be distinguished from it. The real author was Sheffield, Earl of Mulgrave, afterwards Duke of Buckingham.

Like other lampoons of the time, the "Essay on Satire" was handed about in manuscript copies, about November 1679. It is inserted in the quarto edition of Sheffield Duke of Buckingham's Works, with many alterations and improvements by Pope, to whose correction it had been subjected by the noble poet. It is obvious, and has been well argued by Mr Malone, that if Dryden had taken any considerable pains with the original copy, Pope would have had but little to do.

Sheffield, in his "Essay on Poetry," pays our author a very supercilious and aristocratic compliment on this, his own poem, having been attributed to him, and the castigation which ensued:

Though praised and punished for another's rhimes,
His own deserve as much applause _sometimes_.

It is thus that noble authors distribute their praise, like their bounty, duly seasoned with humbling admonition. In the copy of the Essay, revised by Pope, this impertinent couplet is omitted.

AN

ESSAY UPON SATIRE.

How dull, and how insensible a beast
Is man, who yet would lord it o'er the rest!
Philosophers and poets vainly strove
In every age the lumpish mass to move;
But those were pedants, when compared with these,
Who know, not only to instruct, but please.
Poets alone found the delightful way,
Mysterious morals gently to convey
In charming numbers; so that as men grew
Pleased with their poems, they grew wiser too.
Satire has always shone among the rest;
And is the boldest way, if not the best,
To tell men freely of their foulest faults,
To laugh at their vain deeds, and vainer thoughts.[31]
In satire, too, the wise took different ways,
To each deserving its peculiar praise.
Some did all folly with just sharpness blame,
Whilst others laughed and scorned them into shame.
But of these two, the last succeeded best,
As men aim rightest when they shoot in jest.
Yet, if we may presume to blame our guides,
And censure those, who censure all besides,
In other things they justly are preferred;
In this alone methinks the ancients erred:
Against the grossest follies they declaim;
Hard they pursue, but hunt ignoble game.
Nothing is easier than such blots to hit,
And 'tis the talent of each vulgar wit:
Besides, 'tis labour lost; for, who would preach
Morals to Armstrong,[32] or dull Aston[33] teach?
'Tis being devout at play, wise at a ball,
Or bringing wit and friendship to Whitehall.
But with sharp eyes those nicer faults to find,
Which lie obscurely in the wisest mind,
That little speck which all the rest does spoil,--
To wash off that would be a noble toil;
Beyond the loose-writ libels of this age,
Or the forced scenes of our declining stage;
Above all censure too, each little wit
Will be so glad to see the greater hit;
Who judging better, though concerned the most,
Of such correction will have cause to boast.
In such a satire all would seek a share,
And every fool will fancy he is there.
Old story-tellers, too, must pine and die,
To see their antiquated wit laid by;
Like her, who missed her name in a lampoon,
And grieved to find herself decayed so soon.
No common coxcomb must be mentioned here;
Not the dull train of dancing sparks appear;
Nor fluttering officers, who never fight;
Of such a wretched rabble, who would write?
Much less half-wits; that's more against our rules;
For they are fops, the other are but fools.
Who would not be as silly as Dunbar?[34]
As dull as Monmouth,[35] rather than Sir Carr?[36]
The cunning courtier should be slighted too,
Who with dull knavery makes so much ado;
Till the shrewd fool, by thriving too too fast,
Like Æsop's fox, becomes a prey at last.
Nor shall the royal mistresses[37] be named,
Too ugly, or too easy to be blamed;
With whom each rhyming fool keeps such a pother,
They are as common that way as the other;
Yet, sauntering Charles, between his beastly brace, }
Meets with dissembling still in either place, }
Affected humour, or a painted face. }
In loyal libels we have often told him,
How one has jilted him, the other sold him:
How that affects to laugh, how this to weep;
But who can rail so long as he can sleep?
Was ever prince by two at once misled,
False, foolish, old, ill-natured, and ill-bred?
Earnely[39] and Aylesbury,[40] with all that race--
Of busy blockheads, shall have here no place;
At council set as foils on Dorset's score,
To make that great false jewel shine the more;
Who all that while was thought exceeding wise,
Only for taking pains, and telling lies.
But there's no meddling with such nauseous men;
Their very names have tired my lazy pen:
'Tis time to quit their company, and choose
Some fitter subject for a sharper muse.
First, let's behold the merriest man alive[41]
Against his careless genius vainly strive;
Quit his dear ease, some deep design to lay,
'Gainst a set time, and then forget the day:
Yet he will laugh at his best friends, and be
Just as good company as Nokes and Lee.
But when he aims at reason or at rule,
He turns himself the best to ridicule.
Let him at business ne'er so earnest sit,
Shew him but mirth, and bait that mirth with wit,
That shadow of a jest shall be enjoyed,
Though he left all mankind to be destroyed.
So cat transformed sat gravely and demure,
Till mouse appeared, and thought himself secure;
But soon the lady had him in her eye,
And from her friend did just as oddly fly.
Reaching above our nature does no good;
We must fall back to our old flesh and blood;
As by our little Machiavel we find,
That nimblest creature of the busy kind.
His limbs are crippled, and his body shakes; }
Yet his hard mind, which all this bustle makes, }
No pity of its poor companion takes. }
What gravity can hold from laughing out,
To see him drag his feeble legs about,
Like hounds ill-coupled? Jowler lugs him still
Through hedges, ditches, and through all that's ill.
'Twere crime in any man but him alone,
To use a body so, though 'tis one's own:
Yet this false comfort never gives him o'er,
That, whilst he creeps, his vigorous thoughts can soar:
Alas! that soaring to those few that know,
Is but a busy grovelling here below.
So men in rapture think they mount the sky, }
Whilst on the ground the entranced wretches lie: }
So modern fops have fancied they could fly. }
As the new earl,[42] with parts deserving praise,
And wit enough to laugh at his own ways,
Yet loses all soft days and sensual nights,
Kind nature checks, and kinder fortune slights;
Striving against his quiet all he can,
For the fine notion of a busy man.
And what is that at best, but one, whose mind
Is made to tire himself and all mankind?
For Ireland he would go; faith, let him reign;
For, if some odd fantastic lord would fain
Carry in trunks, and all my drudgery do,
I'll not only pay him, but admire him too.
But is there any other beast that lives,
Who his own harm so wittingly contrives?
Will any dog that has his teeth and stones,
Refinedly leave his bitches and his bones,
To turn a wheel? and bark to be employed,
While Venus is by rival dogs enjoyed?
Yet this fond man, to get a statesman's name,
Forfeits his friends, his freedom, and his fame.
Though satire nicely writ with humour stings
But those who merit praise in other things;
Yet we must needs this one exception make,
And break our rules for silly Tropos' sake;[43]
Who was too much despised to be accused,
And therefore scarce deserves to be abused;
Raised only by his mercenary tongue,
For railing smoothly, and for reasoning wrong.
As boys, on holidays let loose to play,
Lay waggish traps for girls that pass that way;
Then shout to see, in dirt and deep distress,
Some silly cit in her flowered foolish dress,--[44]
So have I mighty satisfaction found,
To see his tinsel reason on the ground;
To see the florid fool despised, and know it,
By some who scarce have words enough to show it;
For sense sits silent, and condemns for weaker
The finer, nay sometimes the wittier speaker:
But 'tis prodigious so much eloquence
Should be acquired by such little sense;
For words and wit did anciently agree,
And Tully was no fool, though this man be:
At bar abusive; on the bench unable;
Knave on the woolsack; fop at council-table.
These are the grievances of such fools as would
Be rather wise than honest, great than good.
Some other kind of wits must be made known,
Whose harmless errors hurt themselves alone;
Excess of luxury they think can please,
And laziness call loving of their ease;
To live dissolved in pleasures still they feign,
Though their whole life's but intermitting pain;
So much of surfeits, head-aches, claps are seen,
We scarce perceive the little time between;
Well-meaning men, who make this gross mistake,
And pleasure lose only for pleasure's sake;
Each pleasure has its price, and when we pay
Too much of pain, we squander life away.
Thus Dorset,[45] purring like a thoughtful cat,
Married,--but wiser puss ne'er thought of that;
And first he worried her with railing rhyme,
Like Pembroke's mastives at his kindest time;
Then for one night sold all his slavish life,
A teeming widow, but a barren wife.
Swelled by contact of such a fulsome toad,
He lugged about the matrimonial load;
Till fortune, blindly kind as well as he,
Has ill restored him to his liberty;
Which he would use in his old sneaking way,
Drinking all night, and dozing all the day;
Dull as Ned Howard, whom his brisker times
Had famed for dulness in malicious rhymes.[46]
Mulgrave[47] had much ado to 'scape the snare,
Though learned in all those arts that cheat the fair;
For, after all his vulgar marriage-mocks,
With beauty dazzled, Numps was in the stocks;
Deluded parents dried their weeping eyes,
To see him catch his Tartar for his prize:
The impatient town waited the wished-for change,
And cuckolds smiled in hopes of sweet revenge;
Till Petworth plot made us with sorrow see,
As his estate, his person too was free:
Him no soft thoughts, no gratitude could move;
To gold he fled from beauty and from love;
Yet failing there he keeps his freedom still,
Forced to live happily against his will;
'Tis not his fault, if too much wealth and power
Break not his boasted quiet every hour.
And little Sid.[48] for simile renowned,
Pleasure has always sought, but never found;
Though all his thoughts on wine and women fall,
His are so bad, sure he ne'er thinks at all.
The flesh he lives upon is rank and strong,
His meat and mistresses are kept too long.
But sure we all mistake this pious man,
Who mortifies his person all he can:
What we uncharitably take for sin,
Are only rules of this odd capuchin;
For never hermit, under grave pretence,
Has lived more contrary to common sense;
And 'tis a miracle, we may suppose,
No nastiness offends his skilful nose;
Which from all stink can, with peculiar art,
Extract perfume and essence from a f----t.
Expecting supper is his great delight;
He toils all day but to be drunk at night;
Then o'er his cups this night-bird chirping sits,
Till he takes Hewet[49] and Jack Hall[B] for wits.
Rochester I despise for want of wit,
Though thought to have a tail and cloven feet;
For, while he mischief means to all mankind,
Himself alone the ill effects does find;
And so, like witches, justly suffers shame,
Whose harmless malice is so much the same.
False are his words, affected is his wit;
So often he does aim, so seldom hit;
To every face he cringes while he speaks,
But when the back is turned the head he breaks.
Mean in each action, lewd in every limb,
Manners themselves are mischievous in him;
A proof that chance alone makes every creature,
A very Killigrew without good nature.
For what a Bessus[52] has he always lived,
And his own kickings notably contrived?
For, there's the folly that's still mixt with fear,
Cowards more blows than any hero bear;
Of fighting sparks some may their pleasures say,
But 'tis a bolder thing to run away.
The world may well forgive him all his ill,
For every fault does prove his penance still;
Falsely he falls into some dangerous noose,
And then as meanly labours to get loose;
A life so infamous is better quitting,
Spent in base injury and low submitting.[53]
I'd like to have left out his poetry;
Forgot by all almost as well as me.
Sometimes he has some humour, never wit,
And if it rarely, very rarely, hit,
'Tis under so much nasty rubbish laid,
To find it out's the cinderwoman's trade,
Who, for the wretched remnants of a fire,
Must toil all day in ashes and in mire.
So lewdly dull his idle works appear,
The wretched text deserves no comments here;
Where one poor thought sometimes, left all alone,
For a whole page of dulness must atone.
How vain a thing is man, and how unwise!
E'en he, who would himself the most despise!
I, who so wise and humble seem to be,
Now my own vanity and pride can't see.
While the world's nonsense is so sharply shown,
We pull down others but to raise our own;
That we may angels seem, we paint them elves,
And are but satires to set up ourselves.
I, who have all this while been finding fault,
E'en with my master, who first satire taught;
And did by that describe the task so hard,
It seems stupendous and above reward;
Now labour with unequal force to climb
That lofty hill, unreached by former time,--
'Tis just that I should to the bottom fall,
Learn to write well, or not to write at all.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 31: Would Dryden have pardoned such a rhyme?]

[Footnote 32: Sir Thomas Armstrong, then an officer of the guards, and gentleman of horse to the king. He seems to have been remarkable for riot and profligacy, even in that profligate age; witness his stabbing a gentleman in the pit of the theatre. Thus principled, he became, unfortunately for himself and his patron, a favourite of the Duke of Monmouth, and engaged deeply in all his intrigues, particularly in that of the Rye-house plot, on the discovery of which he fled to Holland, of which he was a native: nevertheless, he was there seized and delivered. He was tried by Jefferies; and sustained the brutality of that judge with more spirit than his friends or his enemies expected. Upon a conviction of outlawry for treason, he was executed, June 1685.]

[Footnote 33: Aston is mentioned as a sort of half wit in some of the lampoons of the day; but I have not been able to trace any thing of his history, except that he seems to have been a courtier of the period; perhaps the same Colonel Aston, whom the reader will find in a subsequent note, acting as Mulgrave's second, in an intended duel with Rochester. If this be so, from the slight with which he is here mentioned, there may have been a coolness in their friendship, although, indeed, the mere want of _morals_ was not considered as an insufferable stigma in the reign of Charles II., and might pass for a good-natured joke, were the epithet _dull_ omitted. The name Aston is mentioned in the "Epistle to Julian."]

[Footnote 34: Robert Constable, third Viscount of Dunbar. He is elsewhere mentioned with the epithet of "brawny Dunbar." He married, 1st, Mary, daughter of Lord Bellasis; 2dly, the countess-dowager of Westmoreland.]

[Footnote 35: The unfortunate duke; the qualities of whose mind did not correspond to his exterior accomplishments. Rochester says of him,--

But, now we talk of Maestricht, where is he
Famed for that brutal piece of bravery?
He, with his thick impenetrable scull,
The solid hardened armour of a fool,
Well might himself to all war's ills expose,
Who, come what will, yet had no brains to lose.
]

[Footnote 36: Sir Carr Scroop, a poet and courtier. See Note on the "Epistle to Julian."]

[Footnote 37: The royal mistresses were, the Duchesses of Cleveland and of Portsmouth. Neither was supposed over-scrupulous in fidelity to their royal lover. The Duchess of Cleveland, in particular, lavished her favours even upon Jacob Hall, the rope-dancer; at least, so Count Hamilton assures us, in the "Memoirs of Grammont." The Duchess of Portsmouth was a pensioner of the French court; by whom she was thrown into the arms of Charles, with the express purpose of securing his attachment to the cause of France. Charles knew, as well as any of his subjects, the infidelity of one mistress, and the treachery of the other; and Sheffield has elsewhere vindicated the epithet of "sauntering," which is here bestowed on that indolent monarch. "I am of opinion," says the duke, "that, in his latter times, there was as much of laziness as of love in all those hours he passed among his mistresses; who, after all, only served to fill up his seraglio, while a bewitching kind of pleasure, called _sauntering_, and talking without constraint, was the true sultana-queen he delighted in."[38] While Sheffield thus solemnly confirms, in prose, the character given of Charles in the "Essay upon Satire," he ascertains his claim to the property of the poem. And I must add, I should be sorry to think Dryden was accessary to lampooning persons, to whom he had offered the incense of his verse. See the "Epistle to Lady Castlemain," afterwards Duchess of Cleveland, and "The Fair Stranger," addressed to Louise Querouailles, afterwards Duchess of Portsmouth.]

[Footnote 38: _Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham's Works_, Vol. II. p. 61. 4to, 1723.]

[Footnote 39: Sir John Earnely was bred to the law; but became distinguished as a second-rate statesman. He was chancellor of the exchequer in 1686; and was made one of the commissioners of the treasury, in the room of the Earl of Rochester.]

[Footnote 40: Robert Bruce, second Earl of Elgin, in Scotland, created after the Restoration an English peer, by the titles of Baron and Viscount Bruce, Earl of Aylesbury. In 1678, he was of the privy-council to his majesty, and a gentleman of the bed-chamber. In the reign of James II., the Earl of Aylesbury succeeded to the office of lord-chamberlain, upon the death of the Earl of Arlington, in July 1685; an office which he held only two months, as he died in October following.]

[Footnote 41: The Earl of Shaftesbury; of whose decrepit body, and active mind, much has been said in the notes on "Absalom and Achitophel," and on the "Medal."]

[Footnote 42: This was Arthur, first Earl of Essex of his name. He was son of that Lord Capel, who so gallantly defended Colchester during the civil wars, and was executed upon the place being taken. Lord Essex had been lieutenant of Ireland from 1672 to 1677, and was supposed to have fixed his ambition upon returning to that situation. Being disappointed, he joined in the measures of Shaftesbury and Monmouth, and was a violent opponent of the court. He was committed to the Tower on account of his accession to the Rye-house plot; and, upon the morning on which Lord Russel was conveyed to his trial, he was found with his throat cut, the King and Duke of York being in the Tower at the very time, to witness some experiment on the ordnance. It was afterwards asserted, that he had been murdered by order of the court. Even Burnet, however, seems to acquit them of the crime, both because Essex was a free-thinker, and accustomed to vindicate suicide, and because his surgeon declared to him, that, from the mode in which the wound was inflicted, it could only have been done with his own hand. But the violent proceedings against Braddon and Speke, who attempted to investigate this mysterious affair, threw some suspicion upon the court party. If Charles was accessary to the murder, the time was strangely chosen, and the king's dissimulation equally remarkable; for, on hearing the event, be exclaimed, "Alas! Lord Essex might have trusted my clemency, I owed his family a life."]

[Footnote 43: This was the infamous Lord Chief-Justice Scroggs. He had ready eloquence, and much impudence. At first he stickled hard for the Popish Plot; but, finding that ceased to be the road to preferment, he became as eager on the other side. North allows, that his course of life was scandalous.]

[Footnote 44: This seems to have been copied by Gay in his Trivia:

Why do you, boys, the kennel's surface spread,
To tempt, with faithless pass, the matron's tread?
How can you laugh to see the damsel spurn,
Sink in your frauds, and her green stocking mourn?
]

[Footnote 45: The witty Earl of Dorset, whom we have often had occasion to mention in these notes. His first wife was the Countess-Dowager of Falmouth. Sheffield insinuates, that he had previously lampooned this lady, and hints at some scandal now obsolete. She died without any issue by Dorset.]

[Footnote 46: Alluding to Dorset's verses to Mr Edward Howard. "On his incomparable incomprehensible Poem, called the British Princess."]

[Footnote 47: Mulgrave here alludes to some anecdotes of his own life and amours, which probably were well known at the time, but are now too obscure to be traced. He was three times married, and always to widows. His lordship is here pleased to represent himself as a gallant of the first order, skilled in all the arts of persuasion and conquest. But his contemporaries did not esteem him so formidable, at least if we may believe the author of a satire, called, "A Heroical Epistle from Lord Allpride to Doll Common;" a bitter and virulent satire on Mulgrave. He is thus described, in an epigram on Lord Allpride:

Against his stars the coxcomb ever strives,
And to be something they forbid contrives.
With a red nose, splay foot, and goggle eye,
A ploughman's booby mien, face all awry,
A filthy breath, and every loathsome mark,
The punchinello sets up for a spark:
With equal self-conceit he takes up arms,
But with such vile success his part performs,
That he burlesques the trade, and, what is best
In others, turns, like Harlequin, to jest:
So have I seen, at Smithfield's wonderous fair,
When all his brother-monsters flourish there,
A lubbard elephant divert the town,
With making legs, and shooting of a gun.
Go where he will, he never finds a friend,
Shame and derision all his steps attend;
Alike abroad, at home, i'the camp, and court,
This knight o'the burning pestle makes us sport.

This seems to have been written by the offended Sir Car Scrope.]

[Footnote 48: Derrick is inclined to think, that Sidney, brother of the Earl of Leicester, and of the famous Algernon Sidney, is here meant. But the character better suits Sir Charles Sedley or Sidley, for he spelled the name both ways. In explanation of the line, there is, in the 4to edition of Sheffield's Works, this short note, "Remarkable for making pleasant and proper similies upon all occasions." In a satire in the State Poems, Vol. II.

To a soul so mean e'en Shadwell is a stranger;
Nay, little Sid. it seems, less values danger.
]

[Footnote 49: Sir George Hewet was a coxcomb of the period, after whom Etherege is said to have modelled Sir Fopling Flutter's character:

Scarce will their greater grief pierce every heart,
Should Sir George Hewit or Sir Car depart.
Had it not better been, than thus to roam,
To stay and tie the cravat string at home;
To strut, look big, shake pantaloon, and swear
With Hewit, "Damme, there's no action here!"

_Rochester's Farewell._

His pretensions to gallantry are elsewhere ridiculed:

Yet most against their genius blindly run,
The wrong they chuse, and what they're made for shun;
Thus Arlington thinks for state affairs he's fit,
Hewit for ogling, C----ly for a wit.

_The Town Life._

And again,

May Hewet's _billets doux_ successful prove,
In tempting of her little Grace to love.

Sir George Hewet attended the Prince of Denmark when he joined the Prince of Orange.

Jack Hall, the rotten Uzza of "Absalom and Achitophel," (Vol. IX. pp. 331. 373.) He seems to have gone into opposition to the court with Sidley, his patron. There is a comical account given of a literary effort of his in one of the State Poems:

Jack Hall---- ---- ----
---- ---- ----left town,
But first writ something that he durst not own;
Of prologue lawfully begotten,
And full nine months maturely thought on;
Born with hard labour and much pain,
Ousely was doctor chamberlain.[50]
At length, from stuff and rubbish picked,
As bears' cubs into form are licked,
When Wharton, Etherege, and Soame, }
To give it their last strokes were come, }
Those critics differed in their doom; }
Yet Swan[51] says, he admired it 'scaped,
Being Jack Hall's, without being clapped.
]

[Footnote 50: _Then a famous accoucheur._]

[Footnote 51: _The same, I suppose, whom Dryden dignifies with the title of honest Mr Swan_, Vol XIII. p. 97.]

[Footnote 52: A cowardly braggadocio character in Beaumont and Fletcher's excellent play of "King and no King."]