Chapter XII: Part III (7)

Of these talents (to regard them in their separate state) that of a _strong imagination_, as being the commoner of the two, one would naturally suppose should be the first to exert itself in the service of criticism. And thus it seems, in fact, to have happened. For there were very early in Greece a sort of men, who, under the name of RHAPSODISTS, made it their business to illustrate the beauties of their favourite writers. Though their art, indeed, was very simple; for it consisted only in _acting_ the finest passages of their works, and in _repeating_ them, with a rapturous kind of vehemence, to an ecstatic auditory. Whence it appears, that criticism, as being yet in its infancy, was wholly turned to _admiration_; a passion which true _judgment_ as little indulges in the schools of _Art_, as sound philosophy in those of _Nature_. Accordingly these enraptured declaimers, though they travelled down to the politer ages, could not subsist in them. The fine ridicule of Plato, in one of his Dialogues[31], and the growing taste for just thinking, seem perfectly to have discredited this folly. And it was presently seen and acknowledged even by the Rhapsodist himself, that, how _divinely_ soever he might feel himself affected by the magnetic virtue of the muse, yet, as he could give no intelligible account of its subtle operations, he was assuredly no _Artist_; ΘΕΙΟΝ εἶναι καὶ μὴ ΤΕΧΝΙΚΟΝ ἐπαινέτην.

From this time they, who took upon themselves the office of commenting and recommending the great writers of Greece, discharged it in a very different manner. Their researches grew severe, inquisitive, and rational. And no wonder; for the person, who now took the lead in these studies, and set the fashion of them, was a _philosopher_, and, which was happy for the advancement of this art, the justest philosopher of antiquity. Hence _scientific_ or speculative criticism attained to perfection, at once; and appeared in all that severity of reason and accuracy of method, which Aristotle himself could bestow upon it.

But now this might almost seem as violent an extreme as the other. For though to _understand_ be better than to _admire_, yet the generality of readers _cannot_, or _will not_, understand, where there is _nothing_ for them to admire. So that _reason_, for her own sake, is obliged to borrow something of the dress, and to mimic the airs, of _fancy_: And Aristotle’s _reason_ was too proud to submit to this management.

Hence, the critical plan, which the Stagirite had formed with such rigour of science, however it might satisfy the curious speculatist, wanted to be _relieved_ and set off to the common eye by the heightenings of eloquence. This, I observed, was the easier task of the two; and yet it was very long before it was _successfully_ attempted. Amongst other reasons of this delay, the principal, as you observe, might be the fall of the public freedom of Greece, which soon after followed. For then, instead of the free and manly efforts of genius, which alone could accomplish such a reformation, the trifling spirit of the times declined into mere verbal amusements: “whence,” as you say, “so great a cloud of scholiasts and grammarians so soon over-spread the learning of Greece, when once that famous community had lost its liberty[32].”

And what Greece was thus unable, of a long time, to furnish, we shall in vain seek in another great community, which soon after flourished, in all liberal studies. The genius of Rome was bold and elevated enough for this task. But Criticism, of any kind, was little cultivated, never professed as an _art_, by this people. The specimens we have of their ability in this way (of which the most elegant, beyond dispute, are the two epistles to _Augustus_, and the _Pisos_) are slight occasional attempts; made in the negligence of common sense, and adapted to the peculiar exigencies of their own taste and learning: and not by any means the regular productions of _art_, professedly bending itself to this work, and ambitious to give the last finishing to the critical system.

For so great an effort as this we are to look back to the confines of Greece. And there at length, and even from beneath the depression of slavery (but with a spirit that might have done honour to its age of greatest liberty) a CRITIC arose, singularly qualified for so generous an undertaking. His profession, which was that of a _rhetorical sophist_, required him to be fully instructed in the graces and embellishments of eloquence; and these, the vigour of his genius enabled him to comprehend in their utmost force and beauty. In a word, LONGINUS was the person, whom, of all the critics of antiquity, nature seems to have formed with the proper talents to give the last honour to his profession, and penetrate the very soul of fine writing.

Yet so bounded is human _wit_, and with such difficulty is human _art_ compleated, that even here the advantage, which had been so fortunately gained on the one hand, was, in great measure, lost and forfeited on the other. He had softened indeed the severity of Aristotle’s plan; but, in doing this, had gone back again too far into the manner of the admiring Rhapsodist. In short, with the brightest views of nature and true beauty, which the finest imagination could afford to the best critic, he now wanted, in a good degree, that precision, and depth of thought, which had so eminently distinguished his predecessor. For, as Plotinus long ago observed of him, _though he had approved himself a master of polite literature, he was_ NO _Philosopher_; ΦΙΛΟΛΟΓΟΣ ΜΕΝ, ΦΙΛΟΣΟΦΟΣ ΔΕ ΟΥΔΑΜΩΣ.

Thus the art had been shifting reciprocally into two extremes. And in one or other of these extremes, it was likely to continue. For the fame and eminent ability of their great founders had made them considered as _models_, in their different ways, of perfect criticism. Only it was easy to foresee which of them the humour of succeeding times would be most disposed to emulate. The catching enthusiasm and picturesque fancy of the _one_ would be sure to prevail over the coolness and austerity of the _other_. Accordingly in the last and present century, when now the diligence of learned men had, by restoring the purity, opened an easy way to the study, of the old classics, a numberless tribe of commentators have attempted, after the manner of Longinus, to _flourish_ on the excellencies of their composition. And some of them, indeed, succeeded so well in this method, that one is not to wonder it soon became the popular and only authorized form of what was reputed _just Criticism_. Yet, as nothing but superior genius could make it tolerable even in the best of these, it was to be expected (what experience hath now fully shewn), that it would at length, and in ordinary hands, degenerate into the most unmeaning, frivolous, and disgustful jargon, that ever discredited polite letters.

This, Sir, was the state in which you received _modern Criticism_: a state, which could only shew you, that, of the two models, antiquity had furnished to our use, we had learned, by an awkward imitation of it, to abuse the _worst_. But it did not content your zeal for the service of letters barely to remedy this _abuse_. It was not enough, in your enlarged view of things, to restore either of these models to its ancient splendour. They were both to be revived; or rather a new original plan of criticism was to be struck out, which should unite the virtues of each of them. The experiment was made on the TWO greatest of our own poets; and, by reflecting all the lights of the imagination on the severest reason, every thing was effected, which the warmest admirer of ancient art could promise to himself from such an union. But you went farther. By joining to these powers a perfect insight into human nature, and so ennobling the exercise of _literary_, by the addition of the justest moral, censure, you have now, at length, advanced CRITICISM to its full glory.

Not but, considering the inveterate foible of mankind, which the poet so justly satirizes in the following work, I mean that, which disposes them to malign and depreciate all the efforts of wit and virtue,

—nisi quae terris semota suisque
Temporibus defuncta videt—

Considering, I say, this temper of mankind, you may sooner, perhaps, expect the censures of the dull and envious of all denominations, than the candid applause of the public, even for this service.

I apprehend this consequence the rather, because criticism, though it be _the last fruit of literary experience_, is more exposed to the cavils of ignorance and vanity, than, perhaps, any other species of learned application: all men being forward to judge, and few men giving themselves leave to doubt of their being able to judge, of the merits of well-known and popular writers.

Nor is this all: When writers of a certain rank condescend to this work of criticism, the innovation excites a very natural ferment in the _men of the profession_.

Their JEALOUSY is alarmed, as if there was a design to strip them of the only honour they can reasonably pretend to, that of sitting in judgment on the _inventions_ of their betters. But to JUDGE, he well as to INVENT, is thought a violent encroachment in the republic of Letters; not unlike the ambition of the Roman emperors, who would be consuls, and censors too, that is, would have the privilege of excluding from the senate, as well as of presiding in it.

But if jealousy were out of the case, their MALIGNITY would be much inflamed by this intrusion. For who can bear to see his own weak endeavours in any art, disgraced by a consummate model?

Besides, to say the truth, the conceptions of such writers, as I before spoke of, lie so remote from vulgar apprehension, that, without either _jealousy_ or _malignity_, DULLNESS itself will be sure to create them many peevish detractors. For an ordinary critic can scarce help finding fault with what he does not understand, or being angry where he has no ideas.

On all these accounts it may possibly happen, as I said, that your critical labours will draw upon you much popular resentment and invective.

But if such should be the _present_ effect of your endeavours to cultivate and complete this elegant part of literature, you, who know the temper of the learned world, and, by your eminent merits, have so oft provoked its injustice, will not be disturbed or surprized at it: much less should it discourage those who are disposed to do you more right, from celebrating, and, as they find themselves able, from copying your example;

For USE will father what’s begot by SENSE, as well in this, as in other instances.

You see, Sir, what there is of encomium in the turn of this Letter, was intended not so much for your sake, as my own. Had my purpose been any other, I must have chosen very ill among the various parts of your character to take _this_ for the subject of an address to you. For, after all I have said and think of your critical abilities, it might seem almost as strange in a panegyrist on Mr. Warburton to tell of his admirable criticisms on POPE and SHAKESPEAR, as it would be in him, who should design an encomium on Socrates, to insist on his excellent sculpture of MERCURY and the GRACES. Yet there is a time, when it may be allowed to lay a stress on the amusements of such men. It is, when an adventurer in either _art_ would do an honour to his profession.

I am, with the truest esteem,

Reverend Sir,

Your most obedient

and most humble servant,

R. HURD.

CAMBRIDGE,
_March 29, 1753_.

Q. HORATII FLACCI

EPISTOLA AD AUGUSTUM.

Cum tot sustineas et tanta negotia solus,
Res Italas armis tuteris, moribus ornes,
Legibus emendes; in publica commoda peccem,
Si longo sermone morer tua tempora, Caesar.
Romulus, et Liber pater, et cum Castore Pollux, 5
Post ingentia fata, Deorum in templa recepti,
Dum terras hominumque colunt genus, aspera bella
Conponunt, agros adsignant, oppida condunt;
Ploravere suis non respondere favorem
Speratum meritis. diram qui contudit Hydram, 10
Notaque fatali portenta labore subegit,
Comperit invidiam supremo fine domari.
Urit enim fulgore suo, qui praegravat artis
Infra se positas: extinctus amabitur idem.
Praesenti tibi maturos largimur honores, 15
Jurandasque tuum per numen ponimus aras,
Nil oriturum alias, nil ortum tale fatentes.
Sed tuus hoc populus sapiens et justus in uno,
Te nostris ducibus, te Graiis anteferendo,
Cetera nequaquam simili ratione modoque 20
Aestimat; et, nisi quae terris semota suisque
Temporibus defuncta videt, fastidit et odit:
Sic fautor veterum, ut Tabulas peccare vetantis,
Quas bis quinque viri sanxerunt, Foedera regum
Vel Gabiis vel cum rigidis aequata Sabinis, 25
Pontificum libros, annosa volumina Vatum,
Dictitet Albano Musas in monte locutas.
Si, quia Graiorum sunt antiquissima quaeque
Scripta vel optima, Romani pensantur eadem
Scriptores trutina; non est quod multa loquamur: 30
Nil intra est olea, nil extra est in nuce duri:
Venimus ad summum fortunae: pingimus, atque
Psallimus, et luctamur Achivis doctius unctis.
Si meliora dies, ut vina, poemata reddit;
Scire velim, chartis pretium quotus arroget annus, 35
Scriptor ab hinc annos centum qui decidit, inter
Perfectos veteresque referri debet, an inter
Vilis atque novos? excludat jurgia finis.
Est vetus atque probus centum qui perficit annos.
Quid? qui deperiit minor uno mense vel anno, 40
Inter quos referendus erit? veteresne poetas,
An quos et praesens et postera respuat aetas?
Iste quidem veteres inter ponetur honeste,
Qui vel mense brevi, vel toto est junior anno.
Utor permisso, caudaeque pilos ut equinae 45
Paullatim vello; et demo unum, demo et item unum;
Dum cadat elusus ratione ruentis acervi,
Qui redit in fastos, et virtutem aestimat annis,
Miraturque nihil, nisi quod Libitina sacravit.
Ennius et sapiens, et fortis, et alter Homerus, 50
Ut critici dicunt, leviter curare videtur
Quo promissa cadant, et somnia Pythagorea.
Naevius in manibus non est, et mentibus haeret
Pene recens? adeo sanctum est vetus omne poema.
Ambigitur quotiens, uter utro sit prior; aufert 55
Pacuvius docti famam senis, Accius alti:
Dicitur Afranî toga convenisse Menandro:
Plautus ad exemplar Siculi properare Epicharmi;
Vincere Caecilius gravitate, Terentius arte.
Hos ediscit, et hos arto stipata theatro 60
Spectat Roma potens; habet hos numeratque poetas
Ad nostrum tempus, Livî Scriptoris ab aevo.
Interdum volgus rectum videt: est ubi peccat.
Si veteres ita miratur laudatque poetas,
Ut nihil anteferat, nihil illis comparet; errat: 65
Si quaedam nimis antique, si pleraque dure
Dicere cedit eos, ignave multa fatetur;
Et sapit, et mecum facit, et Jove judicat aequo.
Non equidem insector, delendave carmina Laevî
Esse reor, memini quae plagosum mihi parvo 70
Orbilium dictare; sed emendata videri
Pulchraque, et exactis minimum distantia, miror:
Inter quae verbum emicuit si forte decorum,
Si versus paulo concinnior unus et alter;
Injuste totum ducit venitque poema. 75
Indignor quicquam reprehendi, non quia crasse
Compositum, inlepideve putetur, sed quia nuper:
Nec veniam antiquis, sed honorem et praemia posci.
Recte necne crocum floresque perambulet Attae
Fabula, si dubitem; clament periisse pudorem 80
Cuncti pene patres: ea cum reprehendere coner,
Quae gravis Aesopus, quae doctus Roscius egit.
Vel quia nil rectum, nisi quod placuit sibi, ducunt;
Vel quia turpe putant parere minoribus, et, quae
Inberbi didicere, senes perdenda fateri. 85
Jam Saliare Numae carmen qui laudat, et illud
Quod mecum ignorat, solus volt scire videri;
Ingeniis non ille favet plauditque sepultis,
Nostra sed inpugnat, nos nostraque lividus odit.
Quod si tam Graiis novitas invisa fuisset, 90
Quam nobis; quid nunc esset vetus? aut quid haberet,
Quod legeret tereretque viritim publicus usus?
Ut primum positis nugari Graecia bellis
Coepit, et in vitium fortuna labier aequa;
Nunc athletarum studiis, nunc arsit equorum: 95
Marmoris, aut eboris fabros, aut aeris amavit;
Suspendit picta vultum mentemque tabella;
Nunc tibicinibus, nunc est gavisa tragoedis:
Sub nutrice puella velut si luderet infans,
Quod cupide petiit, mature plena reliquit. 100
Quid placet, aut odio est, quod non mutabile credas?
Hoc paces habuere bonae, ventique secundi.
Romae dulce diu fuit et sollenne, reclusa
Mane domo vigilare, clienti promere jura:
Scriptos nominibus rectis expendere nummos: 105
Majores audire, minori dicere, per quae
Crescere res posset, minui damnosa libido.
Mutavit mentem populus levis, et calet uno
Scribendi studio: puerique patresque severi
Fronde comas vincti coenant, et carmina dictant. 110
Ipse ego, qui nullos me adfirmo scribere versus,
Invenior Parthis mendacior; et prius orto
Sole vigil, calamum et chartas et scrinia posco.
Navem agere ignarus navis timet: abrotonum aegro
Non audet, nisi qui didicit, dare: quod medicorum est, 115
Promittunt medici: tractant fabrilia fabri:
Scribimus indocti doctique poemata passim.
Hic error tamen et levis haec insania quantas
Virtutes habeat, sic collige: vatis avarus
Non temere est animus: versus amat, hoc studet unum; 120
Detrimenta, fugas servorum, incendia ridet:
Non fraudem socio, puerove incogitat ullam
Pupillo: vivit siliquis, et pane secundo:
Militiae quanquam piger et malus, utilis urbi;
Si das hoc, parvis quoque rebus magna juvari; 125
Os tenerum pueri balbumque poëta figurat:
Torquet ab obscoenis jam nunc sermonibus aurem;
Mox etiam pectus praeceptis format amicis,
Asperitatis et invidiae corrector et irae:
Recte facta refert; orientia tempora notis 130
Instruit exemplis; inopem solatur et aegrum.
Castis cum pueris ignara puella mariti
Disceret unde preces, vatem ni Musa dedisset?
Poscit opem chorus, et praesentia numina sentit;
Coelestis implorat aquas, docta prece blandus; 135
Avertit morbos, metuenda pericula pellit;
Inpetrat et pacem, et locupletem frugibus annum:
Carmine Dî superi placantur, carmine Manes.
Agricolae prisci, fortes, parvoque beati,
Condita post frumenta, levantes tempore festo 140
Corpus et ipsum animum spe finis dura ferentem,
Cum sociis operum pueris et conjuge fida,
Tellurem porco, Silvanum lacte piabant,
Floribus et vino Genium memorem brevis aevi.
Fescennina per hunc invecta licentia morem 145
Versibus alternis opprobria rustica fudit;
Libertasque recurrentis accepta per annos
Lusit amabiliter: donec jam saevus apertam
In rabiem coepit verti jocus, et per honestas
Ire domos impune minax. doluere cruento 150
Dente lacessiti: fuit intactis quoque cura
Conditione super communi: quin etiam lex
Poenaque lata, malo quae nollet carmine quemquam
Describi. vertere modum, formidine fustis
Ad bene dicendum delectandumque redacti. 155
Graecia capta ferum victorem cepit, et artis
Intulit agresti Latio. sic horridus ille
Defluxit numerus Saturnius, et grave virus
Munditiae pepulere: sed in longum tamen aevum
Manserunt, hodieque manent, vestigia ruris. 160
Serus enim Graecis admovit acumina chartis;
Et post Punica bella quietus quaerere coepit,
Quid Sophocles et Thespis et Aeschylos utile ferrent:
Tentavit quoque rem, si digne vertere posset:
Et placuit sibi, natura sublimis et acer. 165
Nam spirat tragicum satis, et feliciter audet;
Sed turpem putat inscitus metuitque lituram.
Creditur, ex medio quia res arcessit, habere
Sudoris minimum; sed habet Comoedia tanto
Plus oneris, quanto veniae minus. aspice, Plautus 170
Quo pacto partis tutetur amantis ephebi;
Ut patris attenti, lenonis ut insidiosi:
Quantus sit Dossennus edacibus in parasitis:
Quam non adstricto percurrat pulpita socco.
Gestit enim nummum in loculos demittere; post hoc 175
Securus, cadat an recto stet fabula talo.
Quem tulit ad scenam ventoso gloria curru,
Exanimat lentus spectator, sedulus inflat.
Sic leve, sic parvum est, animum quod laudis avarum
Subruit ac reficit. valeat res ludicra, si me 180
Palma negata macrum, donata reducit opimum.
Saepe, etiam audacem, fugat hoc terretque poetam;
Quod numero plures, virtute et honore minores,
Indocti, stolidique, et depugnare parati
Si discordet eques, media inter carmina poscunt 185
Aut ursum aut pugiles: his nam plebecula gaudet.
Verum equiti quoque jam migravit ab aure voluptas
Omnis, ad ingratos oculos, et gaudia vana.
Quatuor aut pluris aulaea premuntur in horas;
Dum fugiunt equitum turmae, peditumque catervae: 190
Mox trahitur manibus regum fortuna retortis:
Esseda festinant, pilenta, petorrita, naves:
Captivum portatur ebur, captiva Corinthus.
Si foret in terris, rideret Democritus; seu
Diversum confusa genus panthera camelo, 195
Sive elephas albus volgi converterit ora:
Spectaret populum ludis attentius ipsis,
Ut sibi praebentem mimo spectacula plura:
Scriptores autem narrare putaret asello
Fabellam surdo. nam quae pervincere voces 200
Evaluere sonum, referunt quem nostra theatra?
Garganum mugire putes nemus, aut mare Tuscum.
Tanto cum strepitu ludi spectantur, et artes,
Divitiaeque peregrinae: quibus oblitus actor
Cum stetit in scena, concurrit dextera laevae: 205
Dixit adhuc aliquid? nil sane. quid placet ergo?
Lana Tarentino violas imitata veneno.
Ac ne forte putes me, quae facere ipse recusem,
Cum recte tractent alii, laudare maligne:
Ille per extentum funem mihi posse videtur 210
Ire poeta; meum qui pectus inaniter angit,
Inritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus inplet,
Ut magus; et modo me Thebis, modo ponit Athenis.
Verum age, et his, qui se lectori credere malunt,
Quam spectatoris fastidia ferre superbi, 215
Curam impende brevem: si munus Apolline dignum
Vis complere libris; et vatibus addere calcar,
Ut studio majore petant Helicona virentem.
Multa quidem nobis facimus mala saepe poëtae,
(Ut vineta egomet caedam mea) cum tibi librum 220
Sollicito damus, aut fesso: cum laedimur, unum
Si quis amicorum est ausus reprendere versum:
Cum loca jam recitata revolvimus inrevocati:
Cum lamentamur non adparere labores
Nostros, et tenui deducta poemata filo: 225
Cum speramus eo rem venturam, ut, simul atque
Carmina rescieris nos fingere, commodus ultro
Arcessas, et egere vetes, et scribere cogas.
Sed tamen est operae pretium cognoscere, qualis
Aedituos habeat belli spectata domique 230
Virtus, indigno non committenda poetae.
Gratus Alexandro regi Magno fuit ille
Choerilos, incultis qui versibus et male natis
Rettulit acceptos, regale nomisma, Philippos.
Sed veluti tractata notam labemque remittunt 235
Atramenta, fere scriptores carmine foedo
Splendida facta linunt. idem rex ille, poëma
Qui tam ridiculum tam care prodigus emit,
Edicto vetuit; ne quis se, praeter Apellen
Pingeret, aut alius Lysippo cuderet aera 240
Fortis Alexandri voltum simulantia. quod si
Judicium subtile videndis artibus illud
Ad libros et ad haec Musarum dona vocares;
Boeotum in crasso jurares aëre natum.
At neque dedecorant tua de se judicia, atque 245
Munera, quae multa dantis cum laude tulerunt,
Dilecti tibi Virgilius Variusque poetae:
Nec magis expressi voltus per aënea signa,
Quam per vatis opus mores animique virorum
Clarorum adparent. nec sermones ego mallem 250
Repentis per humum, quam res componere gestas,
Terrarumque situs, et flumina dicere, et arcis
Montibus impositas, et barbara regna, tuisque
Auspiciis totum confecta duella per orbem,
Claustraque custodem pacis cohibentia Janum, 255
Et formidatam Parthis, te principe, Romam:
Si quantum cuperem, possem quoque. sed neque parvum
Carmen majestas recipit tua; nec meus audet
Rem tentare pudor, quam vires ferre recusent.
Sedulitas autem stulte, quem diligit, urguet; 260
Praecipue cum se numeris commendat et arte.
Discit enim citius, meminitque libentius illud
Quod quis deridet, quam quod probat et veneratur.
Nil moror officium, quod me gravat: ac neque ficto
In pejus voltu proponi cereus usquam, 265
Nec prave factis decorari versibus opto:
Ne rubeam pingui donatus munere, et una
Cum scriptore meo capsa porrectus operta,
Deferar in vicum vendentem tus et odores,
Et piper, et quicquid chartis amicitur ineptis. 270

COMMENTARY.

EPISTOLA AD AUGUSTUM.] In conducting this work, which is _an apology for the poets of his own time_, the method of the writer is no other, than that which plain sense, and the subject itself, required of him. For, as the main dislike to the Augustan poets had arisen from an _excessive reverence_ paid to their elder brethren, the _first_ part of the epistle [from v. 1 to 118] is very naturally laid out in the ridicule and confutation of so absurd a prejudice. And having, by this preparation, obtained a candid hearing for his defence, he then proceeds [in what follows, to the _end_] to vindicate their real _merits_; setting in view the excellencies of the _Latin poetry_, as cultivated by the great modern masters; and throwing the blame of their ill success, and of the contempt in which they had lain, not so much on themselves, or their _profession_ (the dignity of _which_, in particular, he insists highly upon, and asserts with spirit) as on the vicious taste of the age, and certain unfavouring circumstances, which had accidentally concurred to dishonour _both_.

This idea of the _general_ plan being comprehended, the reader will find it no difficulty to perceive the order and arrangement of _particular_ parts, which the natural transition of the poet’s thought insensibly drew along with it.

5-118. ROMULUS, ET LIBER PATER, &c.] The subject commences from v. 5, where, by a contrivance of great beauty, a pertinent _illustration_ of the poet’s argument becomes an offering of the happiest _address_ to the emperor. Its _double_ purpose may be seen thus. His primary intention was to take off the force of prejudice against _modern_ poets, arising from the superior veneration of the _ancients_. To this end the first thing wanting was to demonstrate by some striking instance, that it was, indeed, nothing but _prejudice_; which he does effectually in taking that instance from the _heroic_, that is, the most revered, ages. For if such, whose acknowledged virtues and eminent services had raised them to the rank of _heroes_, that is, in the pagan conception of things, to the honours of _divinity_, could not secure their fame, in their own times, against the malevolence of slander, what wonder that the race of _wits_, whose obscurer merit is less likely to dazzle the public eye, and yet, by a peculiar fatality, is more apt to awaken its jealousy, should find themselves oppressed by its rudest censure? In the _former_ case the honours, which equal posterity paid to excelling worth, declare all _such_ censure to have been the calumny of malice only. What reason then to conclude, it had any other original in the _latter_? This is the poet’s _argument_.

But now, of these worthies themselves, whom the justice of grateful posterity had snatched out of the hands of detraction, there were some, it seems, whose illustrious services the virtue or vain-glory of the emperor most affected to emulate; and these, therefore, the poet, by an ingenious flattery, selects for examples to his general _observation_,

_Romulus, et Liber pater, et cum Castore Pollux
Post ingentia fata_, &c.

Further, as the good fortune of Augustus, though adorned with the _same_ enviable qualities, had exempted _him_ from the injuries which had constantly befallen _those admired characters_, this peculiar circumstance in the history of his prince affords him the happiest occasion, flattery could desire, of paying distinguished honours to his glory.

_Praesenti tibi maturos largimur honores._

And this constitutes the fine _address and compliment of his Application_.

But this justice, which Augustus had exacted, as it were, by the very authority of his virtue, from his applauding people, was but ill discharged in other instances.

_Sed tuus hoc populus sapiens et justus in uno,
Te nostris ducibus, te Graiis anteferendo,
Cetera nequaquam simili ratione modoque
Aestimat_, &c.

And thus the very _exception_ to the general rule, which forms the encomium, leads him with advantage into his _argument_; which was to observe and expose “the malignant influence of prepossession in obstructing the proper glories of living merit.” So that, as good sense demands in every reasonable panegyric, the praise results from the nature and foundation of the subject-matter, and is not violently and reluctantly dragged into it.

His general charge against his countrymen “of their bigotted attachment to those, dignified by the name of _ancients_, in prejudice to the just deserts of the moderns,” being thus delivered; and the folly of such conduct, with some agreeable exaggeration, exposed; he sets himself with a happy mixture of irony and argument, as well becomes the genius and character of the _epistle_, to confute the pretences, and overturn the very _foundations_, on which it rested.

One main support of their folly was taken from an allowed fact, viz. “That the oldest _Greek_ writers were incontestably superior to the modern ones.” From whence they inferred, that it was but according to nature and the course of experience, to give the like preference to the oldest _Roman_ masters.

His confutation of this sophism consists of two parts. _First_, [from v. 28 to 32] he insists on the _evident_ absurdity of the opinion he is confuting. There was no reasoning with persons, capable of such _extravagant positions_. But, _secondly_, the pretended fact itself, with regard to the Greek learning, was _grossly misunderstood, or perversely applied_. For [from v. 32 to 34] it was not true, nor could it be admitted, that the very _oldest_ of the _Greek_ writers were the best, but those only, which were old, in comparison of the mere modern Greeks. The so much applauded models of Grecian antiquity were themselves _modern_, in respect of the still _older_ and ruder essays of their first writers. It was long discipline and cultivation, the same which had given the Greek _artists_ in the Augustan reign a superiority over the Roman, that by degrees established the good taste, and fixed the authority of the Greek _poets_; from which point it was natural and even necessary for succeeding, _i. e._ the modern Greeks to decline. But no consequence lay from hence to the advantage of the Latin poets, in question; who were wholly unfurnished with any previous study of the arts of verse; and whose works could only be compared with the very _oldest_, that is, the rude forgotten essays of the Greek poetry. So that the fine sense, so closely shut up in this concise couplet, comes out thus: “The modern Greek masters of the _fine arts_ are confessedly superior to the modern Roman. The reason is, they have practised them longer, and with more diligence. Just so, the modern Roman writers must needs have the advantage of their _old_ ones: who had no knowledge of writing, as an _art_, or, if they had, took but small care to put it in practice.”

Further, this plea of antiquity is as uncertain in its _application_, as it was destitute of all truth and reason in its original _foundation_. For if age only must bear away the palm, what way is there of determining, which writers are _modern_, and which _ancient_? The impossibility of fixing this to the satisfaction of an objector, which is pursued [to v. 50] with much agreeable raillery, makes it evident, that the circumstance of antiquity is absolutely nothing; and that in _estimating the merit_ of writers, the real, intrinsic excellence of their writings _themselves_ is alone to be regarded.

Thus far the poet’s intent was to combat the _general_ prejudice of the critic,

_Qui redit in fastos et virtutem aestimat annis._

Taking the fact for granted “of his strong prepossession for antiquity, _as such_” he would discredit, both by raillery and argument, so absurd a conduct. What he gains, by this disposition, is to come to the _particulars_ of his charge with more advantage. For the popular contempt of modern composition, sheltering itself under a shew of learned admiration of the _ancients_, whose age and reputation had made them truly venerable, and whose genuine merits, in the main, could not be disputed, a direct attack upon their fame, at setting out, without any softening, had disgusted the most _moderate_; whereas this prefatory appeal to common sense, under the cover of general criticism, would even dispose bigotry itself to afford the poet a candid hearing. His accusation then of the public taste comes in, here, very pertinently; and is delivered, with address [from v. 50 to 63] in a particular detail of the judgements passed upon the most celebrated of the old Roman poets, by the generality of the modern critics; where, to win upon their prejudices still further by his generosity and good faith, he scruples not to recount such of their determinations on the merit of ancient writers, as were reasonable and well founded, as well as others, that he deemed less just, and as such intended more immediately to expose.

We see then with what art the poet conducts himself in this attack on the _ancients_, and how it served his purpose, by turns, to soften and aggravate the _charge_. _First_, “he wanted to lower the reputation of the old poets.” This was not to be done by general invective or an affected dissimulation of their just praise. He admits then [from v. 63 to 66] their reasonable pretensions to _admiration_. ’Tis the _degree_ of it alone, to which he objects.

_Si veteres_ ITA _miratur laudatque_, &c.

_Secondly_, “he wanted to draw off their applauses from “the ancient to the modern poets.” This required the _advantages_ of those moderns to be distinctly shewn, or, which comes to the same, the _comparative deficiencies_ of the ancients to be pointed out. These were not to be dissembled, and are, as he openly insists [to v. 69] _obsolete language_, _rude and barbarous construction_, and _slovenly composition_,

_Si quaedam nimis_ ANTIQUE, _si pleraque_ DURE,
_Dicere cedit eos_, IGNAVE _multa_.

But what then? an objector replies, these were venial faults, surely; the _deficiencies_ of the times, and not of the men; who, with such incorrectnesses as are here noted, might still possess the greatest _talents_, and produce the noblest _designs_. This [from v. 69 to 79] is readily admitted. But, in the mean time, one thing was clear, that they were not _finished models_—_exactis minimum distantia_. Which was the main point in dispute. For the bigot’s absurdity lay in this,

_Non veniam antiquis, sed honorem et praemia posci._

Nay, his folly is shewn to have gone still greater lengths. These boasted models of antiquity, with all their imperfections, had occasionally [v. 73, 74] though the instances were indeed rare and thinly scattered, _striking beauties_. These, under the recommendation of _age_, which, of course, commands our reverence, might well impose on the judgements of the _generality_, and standing forth with advantage, as from a shaded and dark _ground_, would naturally catch the eye and admiration of the more _learned_. Thus much the poet candidly insinuates in excuse of the bigot’s _ill judgment_. But, unluckily, he had cut himself off from the benefit of this plea, by avowedly grounding his _admiration_, not merely on the intrinsic excellence, so far as it went, of the ancient poetry itself; but on the advantage of any extraneous circumstance, which but casually stuck to it. The accident of a play’s having passed though the mouth, and been graced by the action, of a just speaker, was sufficient [from v. 79 to 83] (so inexcusable were his prejudices) to attract his wonder, and justify his esteem. In so much that it became an insolence, generally cried out upon, for any one to censure such pieces of the theatre,

_Quae gravis Æsopus, quae doctus Roscius egit._

This being the case, it was no longer a doubt, whether the affected admiration of antiquity proceeded from a deluded judgment only, or a much worse cause. It could plainly be resolved into no other, than the willful agency of the malignant affections; which, wherever they prevail, corrupt the simple and ingenuous sense of the mind, either 1. [v. 83] _in engendring high conceits of self_, and referring all degrees of excellence to the supposed infallible standard of every man’s own judgment; or 2. [to v. 86] _in creating a false shame_, and reluctancy in us to be directed by the judgments of others, though _seen_ to be more equitable, whenever they are found in opposition to our own rooted and preconceived opinions. The bigotry of _old Men_ is, especially, for this reason, invincible. They hold themselves upbraided by the sharper sight of their juniors; and regard the adoption of new sentiments, at their years, as so much absolute loss on the side of the dead stock of their old literary possessions. These considerations are generally of such prevalency in great veteran critics, that [from v. 86 to 90] whenever, as in the case before us, they pretend an uncommon zeal for antiquity, and their sagacity piques itself on detecting the superior value of obscure rhapsodists whom no body else reads, or is able to understand, we may be sure the secret view of such, is, not the generous defence and patronage of _ancient_ wit, but a low malevolent pleasure in decrying the just pretensions of the _modern_.

_Ingeniis non ille favet plauditque sepultis,
Nostra sed impugnat, nos nostraque lividus odit._

The poet had, now, made appear the unreasonable attachment of his countrymen to the fame of their old writers. He had thoroughly unravelled the sophistical pretences, on which it affected to justify itself; and had even dared to unveil the _secret iniquitous principle_, from which it arose. It was now time to look forward to the _effects_ of it; which were, in truth, very baleful; its poisonous influences being of force to corrupt and wither, as it were, in the bud, every rising species of excellence, and fatally to check the very hopes and tendencies of true genius. Nothing can be truer, than this remark; which he further enforces, and brings home to his adversaries, by asking a pertinent question, to which it concerned them to make a serious reply. They had magnified v. 28 the perfection of the Greek models. But what [to v. 93] if the Greeks had conceived the same aversion to _novelties_, as the Romans? How then could _those_ models have ever been furnished to the public use? The question, we see, insinuates what was before affirmed to be the truth of the case; that the unrivalled excellence of the Greek poets proceeded only from long and vigorous exercise, and a painful uninterrupted application to the arts of verse. The liberal spirit of that people led them to countenance every new attempt towards superior literary excellence; and so, by the public favour, their writings, from rude essays, became at length the standard and admiration of succeeding wits. The Romans had treated their adventurers quite otherwise, and the effect was answerable. This is the purport of what to a common eye may look like a _digression_ [from v. 93 to 108], in which is delineated the very different genius and practice of the two nations. For the _Greeks_ [to v. 102] had applied themselves, in the intervals of their leisure from the toils of war, to the cultivation of every species of elegance, whether in _arts_, or _letters_; and loved to cherish the public emulation, by affording a free indulgence to the various and volatile disposition of the times. The activity of these restless spirits, was incessantly attempting some new and untryed _form_ of composition; and, when _that_ was brought to a due degree of perfection, it turned, _in good time_, to the cultivation of some _other_.

_Quod cupide petiit, mature plena reliquit._

So that the very caprice of _humour_ [v. 101] assisted, in this libertine country, to advance and help forward the public taste. Such was the effect of _peace and opportunity_ with them.

_Hoc paces habuere bonae ventique secundi._

Whereas the _Romans_ [to v. 108] by a more composed temperament and saturnine complexion had devoted their pains to the pursuit of domestic utilities, and a more dexterous management of the _arts of gain_. The consequence of which was, that when [to v. 117] by the decay of the old frugal spirit, the necessary effect of overflowing plenty and ease, they began, at length, to seek out for the elegancies of life; and _a fit of versifying_, the first of all liberal amusements, that usually seizes an idle people, had come upon them; their ignorance of rules, and want of exercise in the art of writing, rendered them wholly unfit to succeed in it. So that their awkward attempts in poetry were now as disgraceful to their _taste_, as their total disregard of it, before, had been to their _civility_. The root of this mischief was the idolatrous regard paid to their ancient poets: which unluckily, when the public emulation was set a going, not only checked its progress, but gave it a wrong bias; and, instead of helping true genius to outstrip the lame and tardy endeavours of ancient wit, drew it aside into a vicious and unprofitable mimicry of its very imperfections. Whence it had come to pass, that, whereas in other _arts_, the previous knowledge of rules is required to the practice of them, in this of _versifying_, no such qualification was deemed necessary.

_Scribimus indocti doctique poemata passim._

This mischance was _doubly_ fatal to the Latin poetry. For the ill success of these blind adventurers had increased the original mischief, by confirming, as it needs must, the superstitious reverence of the old writers; and insensibly brought, as well the art itself, as the modern professors of it, into disrepute with the discerning public. The vindication of _both_, then, at this critical juncture, was become highly seasonable; and to this, which was the poet’s main purpose, he addresses himself through the remainder of the epistle.

118 to the end. HIC ERROR TAMEN, &c.] Having sufficiently obviated the popular and reigning prejudices against the modern poets, his office of _advocate_ for their fame, which he had undertaken, and was now to discharge, in form, required him to set their real merits and pretensions in a just light. He enters therefore immediately on this task. And, in drawing the character of the _true poet_, endeavours to impress the Emperor with as advantageous an idea as possible, of the worth and dignity of his calling. And this, not in the fierce insulting tone of a zealot for the _honour of his order_, which to the _great_ is always disgusting, and where the occasion is, confessedly, not of the last importance, plainly absurd; but with that unpretending air of insinuation, which good sense, improved by a thorough knowledge of the world, teaches: with that seeming indifference which disarms prejudice: in a word, with that gracious _smile in his aspect_, which his strong admirer and faint copyer, Persius, so justly noted in him, and which convinces almost without the help of argument; or to say it more truly, _persuades_ where it doth not properly _convince_. In this disposition he sets out on his defence; and yet omits no _particular_, which could any way serve to the real recommendation of _poets_, or which indeed, the gravest or warmest of their friends have ever pleaded in their behalf. This defence consists [from v. 118 to 139] in bringing into view their many _civil_, _moral_, and _religious_ virtues. For the muse, as the poet contends (and nothing could be more likely to conciliate the esteem of the politic emperor) administers, in this threefold capacity, to the service of the state.

But _Religion_, which was its _noblest end_, was, besides, the _first object_ of poetry. The dramatic muse, in particular, had her birth, and derived her very character, from it. This circumstance then leads him with advantage, to give an historical deduction of the rise and progress of the Latin poesy, from its first rude workings in the days of barbarous superstition, through every successive period of its improvement, down to his own times. Such a view of its descent and gradual reformation was directly to the poet’s purpose. For having magnified the virtues of his order, as of such importance to society, the question naturally occurred, by what unhappy means it had fallen out, that it was, nevertheless, in such low estimation with the public. The answer is, that the state of the Latin poetry, as yet, was very rude and imperfect: and so the public disregard was occasioned, only, by its not having attained to that degree of perfection, of which its _nature_ was capable. Many reasons had concurred to keep the Latin poetry in this state, which he proceeds to enumerate. The _first and principal_ was [from v. 139 to 164] the little attention paid _to critical learning, and the cultivation of a correct and just spirit of composition_. Which, again, had arisen from the coarse illiberal disposition of the Latin muse, who had been nurtured and brought up under the roof of rural superstition; and this, by an impure mixture of licentious jollity, had so corrupted her very nature, that it was only by slow degrees, and not till the conquest of Greece had imported arts and learning into Italy, that she began to chastise her manners, and assume a juster and more becoming deportment. And still she was but in the condition of a rustic _beauty_, when, practising her aukward airs, and making her first ungracious essays towards a _manner_.

_in longum tamen aevum
Manserunt, hodieque manent_ vestigia ruris.

Her late acquaintance with the Greek models had, indeed, improved her air, and inspired an inclination to emulate their noblest graces. But how successfully, we are given to understand from her unequal attempts in the two sublimer species of their poetry, the TRAGIC, AND COMIC DRAMAS.

1. [from v. 160 to 168] The _study of the Greek tragedians_ had very naturally, and to good purpose, in the infancy of their taste, disposed the Latin writers to _translation_. Here they stuck long; for their tragedy, even in the Augustan age, was little else; and yet they succeeded but indifferently in it. The bold and animated genius of Rome was, it is readily owned, well suited to this work. And for force of colouring, and a truly tragic elevation, the Roman poets came not behind their great originals. But unfortunately their judgment was unformed, and they were too soon satisfied with their own productions. Strength and fire was all they endeavoured after. And with this praise they sate down perfectly contented. The discipline of correction, the curious polishing of art, which had given such a lustre to the Greek tragedians, they knew nothing of; or, to speak their case more truly, they held disgraceful to the high spirit and energy of the Roman genius:

TURPEM PUTAT IN SCRIPTIS METUITQUE LITURAM.

2. It did not fare better with them [from v. 168 to 175] in their attempts to rival _the Greek comedy_. They preposterously set out with the notion of its being easier to execute this drama than the tragic: whereas to hit its genuine character with exactness was, in truth, a point of much more difficulty. As the _subject_ of comedy was taken from common life, they supposed an ordinary degree of care might suffice, to do it justice. No wonder then, they overlooked or never came up to that nice adjustment of the _manners_, that truth and decorum of _character_, wherein the glory of comic painting consists, and which none but the quickest eye can discern, and the steadiest hand execute; and, in the room, amused us with _high colouring_, and _false drawing_; with _extravagant, aggravated portraitures_; which, neglecting the modest proportion of real life, are the certain arguments of an unpractised pencil, or vicious taste.

What contributed to this prostitution of the comic muse, was [to v. 177] the seducement of that corruptress of all virtue, _the love of money_; which had thoroughly infected the Roman wits, and was, in fact, the sole object of their pains. Hence, provided they could but catch the applauses of the people, to which the pleasantry of the comic scene more especially aspires, and so secure a good round _price_ from the magistrates, whose office it was to furnish this kind of entertainment, they became indifferent to every nobler view and honester purpose. In particular [to v. 182] they so little considered _fame and the praise of good writing_, that they made it the ordinary topic of their ridicule; representing it as the mere illusion of vanity, and the pitiable infirmity of _lean-witted_ minds, to be catched by the lure of so empty and unsubstantial a benefit.

Though, were any one, in defiance of public ridicule, so _daring_ (as there is no occasion in life, which calls for, or demonstrates a greater firmness), as frankly to avow and submit himself to this generous _motive_, the surest inspirer of every virtuous excellence, yet one thing remained to check and weaken the vigour of his emulation. This [from v. 182 to 187] was the folly and ill taste of the undiscerning multitude; who, in all countries, have a great share in determining the fate and character of scenical representations, but, from the popular constitution of the government, were, at Rome, of the first consequence. These, by their rude clamours, and the authority of their numbers, were enough to dishearten the most intrepid genius; when, after all his endeavours to reap the glory of an absolute work, the _action_ was almost sure to be mangled and broken in upon by the shews of _wild beasts and gladiators_; those _dear delights_, which the Romans, it seems, prized much above the highest pleasures of the drama.

Nay, the poet’s case was still more desperate. For it was not the untutored rabble, as in other countries, that gave a countenance to these illiberal sports: even _rank and quality_, at Rome, debased itself in shewing the fiercest passion for these _shews_, and was as ready, as abject commonalty itself, to prefer the uninstructing pleasures of the _eye_ to those of the _ear_.

EQUITI _quoque jam migravit ab aure voluptas
Omnis ad ingratos oculos et gaudia vana._

And, because this barbarity of taste had contributed more than any thing else to deprave the poetry of the stage, and discourage its best masters from studying its perfection, what follows [from v. 189 to 207] is intended, in all the keenness of raillery, to satyrize this madness. It afforded an ample field for the poet’s ridicule. For, besides the riotous disorders of their theatre, the senseless admiration of _pomp and spectacle_ in their plays had so inchanted his countrymen, that the very decorations of the scene, the tricks and trappings of the comedians, were surer to catch the applauses of the gaping multitude, than any regard to the justness of the poet’s design, or the beauty of his execution.

Here the poet should naturally have concluded his _defence of the dramatic writers_; having alledged every thing in their favour, that could be urged, plausibly, from _the state of the Roman stage: the genius of the people: and the several prevailing practices of ill taste_, which had brought them into disrepute with the best judges. But finding himself obliged, in the course of this vindication of the modern _stage-poets_, to censure as sharply, as their very enemies, the vices and defects of their _poetry_; and fearing lest this severity on a sort of writing, to which himself had never pretended, might be misinterpreted as the effect of envy only, and a malignant disposition towards the art itself, under cover of pleading for its _professors_, he therefore frankly avows [from v. 208 to 214] his preference of the _dramatic_, to every other species of poetry; declaring the sovereignty of its pathos over the _affections_, and the magic of its illusive scenery on the _Imagination_, to be the highest argument of poetic excellence, the last and noblest exercise of the human genius.

One thing still remained. He had taken upon himself to apologize for the Roman poets, in _general_; as may be seen from the large terms, in which he proposes his subject.

_Hic error tamen et levis haec insania quantas
Virtutes habeat, sic collige._

But, after a general encomium on the _office_ itself, he confines his defence to the _writers for the stage_ only. In conclusion then, he was constrained, by the very purpose of his address, to say a word or two in behalf of the remainder of this neglected family; of those, who, as the poet expresses it, had _rather trust to the equity of the closet, than subject themselves to the caprice and insolence of the theatre_.