Appendix A.1.1 NOTE I. Ver. 7.

Of the ſeveral authors who have written on Epic Poetry, many of the moſt celebrated are more likely to confound and depreſs, than to enlighten and exalt the young Poetical Student. The Poetics of Scaliger, which are little more than a laboured panegyric of Virgil, would lead him to regard the Aeneid as the only ſtandard of perfection; and the more elegant and ac⯑compliſhed Vida inculcates the ſame puſillanimous leſſon, though in ſpirited and harmonious verſe.

A Critic, who lately roſe to great eminence in our own country, has endeavoured by a more ſingular method to damp the ardour of inven⯑tive Genius, and to annihilate the hopes of all who would aſpire to the praiſe of originality in this higher ſpecies of poetical compoſition. He has attempted to eſtabliſh a Triumvirate in the Epic world, with a perpetuity of dominion. Every reader who is converſant with modern criticiſm will perceive that I allude to the following paſſage in the fa⯑mous Diſſertation on the ſixth Book of Virgil:—"Juſt as Virgil ri⯑valled Homer, ſo Milton emulated both of them. He found Ho⯑mer poſſeſſed of the province of Morality; Virgil of Politics; and nothing left for him but that of Religion. This he ſeized, as aſpiring to ſhare with them in the government of the Poetic world: and, by means of the ſuperior dignity of his ſubject, hath gotten to the head of that Triumvirate, which took ſo many ages in forming. theſe are the three ſpecies of the Epic Poem; for its largeſt ſphere is human action, which can be conſidered but in a moral, political, or religious view: and theſe the three Makers; for each of their Poems was ſtruck out at a heat, and came to perfection from its firſt eſſay. Here then the grand ſcene was cloſed, and all farther improvements of the Epic at an end."

I apprehend that few critical remarks contain more abſurdity (to uſe the favourite expreſſion of the author I have quoted) than the preceding lines. Surely Milton is himſelf a proof that human action is not the largeſt ſphere of the Epic Poem; and as to Virgil, his moſt paſſionate admirers muſt allow, that in ſubject and deſign he is much leſs of an original than Camoens or Lucan. But ſuch a critical ſtatute of limita⯑tion, if I may call it ſo, is not leſs pernicious than abſurd. To diſ⯑figure the ſphere of Imagination with theſe capricious and arbitrary zones is an injury to ſcience. Such Criticiſm, inſtead of giving ſpirit [121] and energy to the laudable ambition of a youthful Poet, can only lead him to ſtart like Macbeth at unreal mockery, and to exclaim, when he is invited by Genius to the banquet, "The Table's full."

Appendix A.1.2 NOTE II. Ver. 77.

For this fable, ſuch as it is, I am indebted to a paſſage in Athenaeus, which the curious reader may find in the cloſe of that fanciful and entertaining compiler, page 701 of Caſaubon's edition.

Appendix A.1.3 NOTE III. Ver. 207.

I have ventured to ſuppoſe that Greece produced no worthy ſucceſſor of Homer, and that her exploits againſt the Perſians were not celebrated by any Poet in a manner ſuitable to ſo ſublime a ſubject;—yet an author named Chaerilus is ſaid to have recorded thoſe triumphs of his country in verſe, and to have pleaſed the Athenians ſo highly as to obtain from them a public and pecuniary reward. He is ſuppoſed to have been a cotemporary of the hiſtorian Herodotus. But from the general ſilence of the more early Greek writers concerning the merit of this Poet, we may, I think, very fairly conjecture that his compoſitions were not many degrees ſu⯑perior to thoſe of his unfortunate nameſake, who frequented the court of Alexander the Great, and is ſaid to have ſung the exploits of his Sove⯑reign, on the curious conditions of receiving a piece of gold for every good verſe, and a box on the ear for every bad one. The old Scholiaſt on Horace, who has preſerved this idle ſtory, concludes it by ſaying, that the miſerable Bard was beat to death in conſequence of his contract. Some eminent modern Critics have indeed attempted to vindicate the reputation of the more early Chaerilus, who is ſuppoſed to be confounded, both by Horace himſelf, and afterwards by Scaliger, with the Chaerilus rewarded by Alexander. Voſſius ^*, in particular, appears a warm advo⯑cate in his behalf, and appeals to various fragments of the ancient Bard [122] preſerved by Ariſtotle, Strabo, and others, and to the teſtimony of Plu⯑tarch in his favour. But on conſulting the fragments he has referred to, they rather fortify than remove my conjecture. The ſcrap preſerved by Ariſtotle in his Rhetoric is only half a verſe, and quoted without any commendation of its author. The two citations in Strabo amount to little more. The curious reader may alſo find in Athenaeus an Epitaph on Sardanapalus, attributed to this Poet; who is mentioned by the ſame author as peculiarly addicted to the groſſer exceſſes of the table.—Let us now return to that Chaerilus whom Horace has "damn'd to everlaſting fame." The judicious and elegant Roman Satiriſt ſeems remarkably un⯑juſt, in paying a compliment to the poetical judgment of his patron Au⯑guſtus, at the expence of the Macedonian hero. Alexander appears to have poſſeſſed much more poetical ſpirit, and a higher reliſh for poetry, than the cold-blooded Octavius. It is peculiarly unfair, to urge his li⯑berality to a poor Poet as a proof that he wanted critical diſcernment, when he had himſelf ſo thoroughly vindicated the delicacy of his taſte, by the enthuſiaſtic Bon-mot, that he had rather be the Therſites of Homer than the Achilles of Chaerilus.

Appendix A.1.4 NOTE IV. VERSE 231.

Though Boſſu is called "the beſt explainer of Ariſtotle, and one of the moſt learned and judicious of modern critics," by a writer for whoſe opinions I have much eſteem, I cannot help thinking that his celebrated Eſſay on Epic Poetry is very ill calculated either to guide or to inſpirit a young Poet. The abſurdity of his advice concerning the mode of forming the fable, by chuſing a moral, inventing the incidents, and then ſearching hiſtory for names to ſuit them, has been ſufficiently expoſed: and as to his leading idea, concerning the deſign of Homer in the compoſition of the Iliad and Odyſſey, I apprehend moſt poetical readers muſt feel that he is pro⯑bably miſtaken; for it is a conjectural point, and placed beyond the poſ⯑ſibility of deciſion. Perhaps few individuals differ more from each other in their modes of thinking, by the force of education and of na⯑tional manners, than a modern French Critic and an early Poet of Greece; yet the former will often pretend, with the moſt deciſive air, [123] to lay open the ſenſorium of an ancient Bard, and to count every link in the chain of his ideas. Thoſe who are moſt acquainted with the move⯑ments of imagination, will acknowledge the ſteps of this airy power to be ſo light and evaneſcent in their nature, that perhaps a Poet himſelf, in a few years after finiſhing his work, might be utterly unable to recol⯑lect the exact train of thought, or the various minute occurrences which led him to the general deſign, or directed him in the particular parts of his poem. But, in ſpite of the interval of many hundred centuries, the deciſive magic of criticiſm can call up all the ſhadows of departed thought that ever exiſted in his brain, and diſplay, with a moſt aſto⯑niſhing clearneſs, the preciſe ſtate of his mind in the moment of com⯑poſition.

"Homere," ſays Boſſu, "^*voyoit les Grecs pour qui il écri⯑voit, diviſéz en autant d'etats qu'ils avoient de villes conſiderables: chacune faiſoit un corps à part & avoit ſa forme de gouvernement inde⯑pendamment de toutes les autres. Et toute-fois ces etats differens etoient ſouvent obligéz de ſe reünir comme en un ſeul corps contre leurs enne⯑mis communs. Voila ſans doute deux ſortes de gouvernemens bien dif⯑ferens, pour etre commodement reunis en un corps de morale, & en un ſeul poëme.

"Le poëte en a donc fait deux fables ſeparées. L'une eſt pour toute la Grece reünie en un ſeul corps, mais compoſée de parties independantes les unes des autres, comme elles etoient en effect; & l'autre eſt pour chaque etat particulier, tels qu'ils etoient pendant la paix, ſans ce premier rap⯑port & ſans la neceſſeté de ſe reünir.

"Homere a donc pris pour le fond de ſa fable, cette grande verité, que la Meſintelligence des princes ruine leurs propres etats."

On the Odyſſey Boſſu remarks, "Que la verité qui ſert de fond à cette fiction, & qui avec elle compoſe la fable, eſt, que l'abſence d'une perſonne hors de chez ſoi, ou qui n'a point l'oeil à ce qui s'y fait, y cauſe de grands deſordres ^†."

On the mature conſideration of theſe two moral axioms, the Critic ſuppoſes the ſublime Bard to have begun his reſpective Poems; for Homer, continues he, "^‡ n'avoit point d'autre deſſein que de former [124] agreablement les moeurs de ſes Citoïens, en leur propoſant, comme dit Horace, ce qui eſt utile ou pernicieux, ce qui eſt honnete ou ce qui ne l'eſt pas: — il n'a entrepris de raconter aucune action particuliere d'Achille ou d'Ulyſſe. Il a fait la fable et le deſſein de ſes poemes, ſans penſer à ces princes; & enſuite il leur a fait l'honneur de donner leurs noms aux heros qu'il avoit feints."

The preceding remarks of this celebrated Critic have been frequently admired as an ingenious conjecture, which moſt happily illuſtrates the real purpoſe of Homer. To me they appear ſo much the reverſe, that if I ventured to adopt any decided opinion on a point ſo much darkened by the clouds of antiquity, I ſhould rather incline to the idea which Boſſu affects to explode, and ſuppoſe the Poems of Homer intended panegyrics on the very princes whom the Critic affirms he never thought of while he was deſigning the works which have made them immortal.

There is a ſtriking paſſage on this ſubject in a dialogue of Plato, which I ſhall enlarge upon, for two reaſons: 1ſt, As it proves that the latter perſuaſion concerning the purpoſe of Homer was enter⯑tained at Athens; and 2dly, Becauſe it gives me a pleaſing oppor⯑tunity of ſupporting the learned Madame Dacier againſt an ill-grounded cenſure of a late Engliſh critic. In her Preface to the Odyſſey, ſhe aſſerts that the judgment of antiquity decided in favor of the Iliad; and ſhe appeals to part of the ſentence in Plato to which I have alluded, as a proof of her aſſertion. Mr. Wood, in a note to the Introduction of his Eſſay on Homer, endeavours to ſhew the inſufficiency of this proof; and ſtill farther, to convince us that Madame Dacier was utterly miſ⯑taken in her ſenſe of the paſſage to which ſhe appealed. If he ventures to contradict this learned lady, he does not however inſult her with that inſolent pertneſs with which ſhe is frequently treated in the notes to Pope's Homer; and which, for the honour of our Engliſh Poet, I will not ſuppoſe to be his. But though Mr. Wood endeavours to ſup⯑port his opinion by argument, I apprehend that he is himſelf miſtaken, and that Madame Dacier is perfectly right in underſtanding the words of Socrates in their literal ſenſe, without the leaſt mixture of irony. It is true, indeed, that the aim of Socrates, in the courſe of the dialogue, is to ridicule the preſumption and ignorance of the ſophiſt Hippias, in the [125] moſt ironical manner; but the particular ſpeech on Which Madame Dacier founds her opinion, is a plain and ſimple addreſs to Eudicus, be⯑fore he enters on his debate with the Sophiſt. It turns on the moſt ſimple circumſtance, the truth of which Eudicus could hardly be ig⯑norant of, namely, the ſentiments of his own father concerning the Poems of Homer. As theſe ſentiments are ſuch as I believe moſt ad⯑mirers of the ancient Bard have entertained on the point in queſtion, I perfectly agree with Madame Dacier in thinking that Socrates means to be literal and ſerious, when he ſays to Eudicus, [...]. Plat. Hip. min. edit. Serrani, tom. i. pag. 363. " I have heard your father Apemantus ſay, that the Iliad of Homer was a finer poem than his Odyſſey, and as far ſurpaſſed it in excellence as the virtue of Achilles ſurpaſſed the virtue of Ulyſſes; for thoſe two poems, he ſaid, were purpoſely compoſed in honour of thoſe two heroes: the Odyſſey, to ſhew the virtues of Ulyſſes; the Iliad, thoſe of Achilles." Plato's Leſſer Hippias, tranſlated by Syden⯑ham, page 13.

Let us now return to Boſſu; whoſe opinion concerning the purpoſe of Homer we may venture to oppoſe, ſupported as it is by an ingenious interpretation of ſome ambiguous paſſages in the Poetics of Ariſtotle; and this oppoſition may be grounded, not ſo much on the ſentence which I have quoted from Plato, as on the probable conduct of Epic compo⯑ſition in the early ages of poetry. In ſuch periods as produced the talents of Virgil and of Dryden, when all the arts of refined flattery were perfectly underſtood, we can eaſily conceive that they might both be tempted to compliment the reigning monarch under the maſk of ſuch heroic names as hiſtory could ſupply, and their genius accommodate to their purpoſe. We find accordingly, that the Roman Bard is ſuppoſed to have drawn a flattering portrait of his Emperor in the character of Aeneas, and that the Engliſh Poet has, with equal ingenuity, enwrapt the diſſolute Charles the Second in the Jewiſh robes of King David. But in ſo rude an age as we muſt admit that of Homer to have been; when the Poet was certainly more the child of Nature than of Art; when he had no hiſtory to conſult, perhaps no patron to flatter, and no critics [126] to elude or obey; in ſuch an age, may we not more naturally conjecture, that poetical compoſition was neither laboured in its form, nor deep in its deſign? that, inſtead of being the ſlow and ſyſtematic product of po⯑litical reaſoning, it was the quick and artleſs offspring of a ſtrong and vivifying fancy, which, brooding over the tales of tradition, ſoon raiſed them into ſuch life and beauty, as muſt ſatisfy and enchant a warlike and popular audience, ever ready to liſten with delight to the heroic feats of their anceſtors.

If the learned Boſſu appears unfortunate in his ſyſtem concerning the purpoſe of Homer, he may be thought ſtill more ſo in his attempt to analyze the Divinities of Virgil; for, to throw new light on the conven⯑tion of the Gods, in the opening of the tenth Aeneid, he very ſeriouſly informs us, that "^*Venus is divine mercy, or the love of God towards virtuous men; and Juno his juſtice."

I cannot conclude theſe very free ſtrictures on a celebrated author, without bearing a pleaſing teſtimony to the virtues of the man.—Boſſu is allowed by the biographers of his country to have been remarkable for the mildeſt manners and moſt amiable diſpoſition; totally free from that imperious and bigotted attachment to ſpeculative opinions, which the ſcience he cultivated is ſo apt to produce. He endeared himſelf to Boileau by a generous act of friendſhip, that led to an intimacy between them, which was diſſolved only by the death of the former, in 1680.

Appendix A.1.5 NOTE V. VERSE 244.

As it requires much leiſure to examine, and more ſkill to unravel an intricate hypotheſis, twiſted into a long and laboured chain of quotation and argument, the Diſſerta⯑tion on the ſixth Book of Virgil remained for ſome time unrefuted. The public very quietly acquieſced in the ſtrange poſition of its author, "That Aeneas's adventure to the infernal ſhades, is no other than a figurative deſcription of his initiation into the Myſteries; and particu⯑larly a very exact one of the ſpectacles of the Eleuſinian." At length a ſuperior but anonymous Critic aroſe, who, in one of the moſt judicious [127] and ſpirited eſſays that our nation has produced on a point of claſſical literature, completely overturned this ill-founded edifice, and expoſed the arrogance and futility of its aſſuming architect. The Eſſay I allude to is entitled "Critical Obſervations on the Sixth Book of the Aeneid;" printed for Elmſly, 1770: and as this little publication is, I believe, no longer to be purchaſed, the curious reader may thank me for tranſcribing a few of its moſt ſtriking paſſages.

Having ridiculed, with great ſpirit and propriety, Warburton's gene⯑ral idea of the Aeneid as a political inſtitute, and his ill-ſupported aſſer⯑tion, that both the ancient and modern poets afforded Virgil a pattern for introducing the Myſteries into this famous epiſode, the author pro⯑ceeds to examine how far the Critic's hypotheſis of initiation may be ſupported or overthrown by the text of the Poet. "It is," ſays he, "from extrinſical circumſtances that we may expect the diſcovery of Virgil's allegory. Every one of theſe circumſtances perſuades me, that Virgil deſcribed a real, not a mimic world, and that the ſcene lay in the Infernal Shades, and not in the Temple of Ceres.

Having ſhewn, in this ſpirited manner, how far the hypotheſis of the Critic is inconſiſtent with particular paſſages, and with the general character of the Poet, the Eſſayiſt proceeds to alledge "two ſimple [130] reaſons, which perſuade him that Virgil has not revealed the ſecret of the Eleuſinian myſteries: the firſt is his ignorance, and the ſecond his diſcretion." The author then proves, by very ingenious hiſtorical arguments, 1ſt, That it is probable the Poet was never initiated him⯑ſelf; and, 2dly, That if he were ſo, it is more probable that he would not have violated the laws both of religion and of honour, in betraying the ſecret of the Myſteries; particularly, as that ſpecies of profanation is mentioned with abhorrence by a cotemporary Poet.

When Horace compoſed the Ode which contains the preceding paſſage, "the Aeneid (continues my author) and particularly the ſixth Book, were already known to the public ^*. The deteſtation of the wretch who reveals the Myſteries of Ceres, though expreſſed in general terms, muſt be applied by all Rome to the author of the ſixth Book of the Aeneid. Can we ſeriouſly ſuppoſe that Horace would have branded with ſuch wanton infamy one of the men in the world, whom he loved and honoured the moſt ^†?

"Nothing remains to ſay, except that Horace was himſelf ignorant of his friend's allegorical meaning; which the Biſhop of Glouceſter has ſince revealed to the world. It may be ſo; yet, for my own part, I ſhould be very well ſatisfied with underſtanding Virgil no better than Horace did."

Such is the forcible reaſoning of this ingenious and ſpirited writer. I have been tempted to tranſcribe theſe conſiderable por⯑tions of his Work, by an idea (perhaps an ill-founded one) that the circulation of his little Pamphlet has not been equal to its merit. But if it has been in any degree neglected by our country, it has not eſcaped [131] the reſearches, or wanted the applauſe, of a learned and judicious fo⯑reigner. Profeſſor Heyne, the late accurate and accompliſhed Editor of Virgil, has mentioned it, in his Comments to the ſixth Book of the Aeneid, with the honour it deſerves. He remarks, indeed, that the Author has cenſured the learned Prelate with ſome little acrimony; "Paullo acrius quam velis." But what lover of poetry, unbiaſſed by perſonal connection, can ſpeak of Warburton without ſome marks of indignation? If I have alſo alluded to this famous Commentator with a contemptuous aſperity, it ariſes from the perſuaſion that he has ſullied the page of every Poet whom he pretended to illuſtrate; and that he frequently degraded the uſeful and generous profeſſion of Criticiſm into a mean inſtrument of perſonal malignity: or (to uſe the more forcible language of his greateſt antagoniſt) that he "inveſted himſelf in the high office of Inquiſitor General and Supreme Judge of the Opinions of the Learned; which he aſſumed and exerciſed with a ferocity and deſpotiſm without example in the Republic of Letters, and hardly to be paralleled among the diſciples of Dominic ^*." It is the juſt lot of tyrants to be deteſted; and of all uſurpers, the literary deſpot is the leaſt excuſable, as he has not the common tyrannical plea of neceſſity or intereſt to alledge in his behalf; for the prevalence of his edicts will be found to ſink in proportion to the arbitrary tone with which they are pro⯑nounced. The fate of Warburton is a ſtriking inſtance of this impor⯑tant truth. What havock has the courſe of very few years produced in that pile of imperious criticiſm which he had heaped together! Many of his notes on Shakeſpeare have already reſigned their place to the ſuperior comments of more accompliſhed Critics; and perhaps the day is not far diſtant, when the volumes of Pope himſelf will ceaſe to be a repoſitory for the lumber of his friend. The ſevereſt enemies of Warburton muſt indeed allow, that ſeveral of his remarks on his Poeti⯑cal Patron are entitled to preſervation, by their uſe or beauty; but the greater part, I apprehend, are equally deſtitute of both: and how far the Critic was capable of diſgracing the Poet, muſt be evident to every reader who recollects that the nonſenſe in the Eſſay on Criticiſm, where [132] Pegaſus is made to ſnatch a grace, which is juſtly cenſured by Dr. War⯑ton, was firſt introduced into the poem by an arbitrary tranſpoſition of the editor.

Though arrogance is perhaps the moſt ſtriking and characteriſtical defect in the compoſition of this aſſuming Commentator, he had cer⯑tainly other critical failings of conſiderable importance; and it may poſſibly be rendering ſome little ſervice to the art which he profeſſed, to inveſtigate the peculiarities in this ſingular writer, which conſpire to plunge him in the crowd of thoſe evaneſcent critics (if I may uſe ſuch an expreſſion) whom his friend Pope beheld in ſo clear a viſion, that he ſeems to have given us a prophetical portrait of his own Commentator.

I ſhall therefore hazard a few farther obſervations, not only on this famous Critic of our age and country, but on the two greater names of antiquity, to each of whom he has been declared ſuperior by the partial voice of enthuſiaſtic friendſhip. I wiſh not to offend his moſt zealous adherents; and, though I cannot but conſider him as a literary uſurper, I ſpeak of him as a great Hiſtorian ſaid of more exalted tyrants, ſine ira et ſtudio, quorum cauſas procul habeo.—There ſeem to be three natural endowments requiſite in the formation of an accompliſhed critic;—ſtrong underſtanding, lively imagination, and refined ſenſibility. The firſt was the characteriſtic of Ariſtotle, and by the conſent of all ages he is al⯑lowed to have poſſeſſed it in a ſuperlative degree. May I be pardoned for the opinion, that he enjoyed but a very moderate portion of the other two? I would not abſolutely ſay that he had neither Fancy nor Feeling; but that his imagination was not brilliant, and that his ſenſibility was not exquiſite, may I think be fairly preſumed from the general tenor of his proſe; nor does the little relique of his poetry contradict the idea. The two qualities in which Ariſtotle may be ſuppoſed defective, were the very two which peculiarly diſtinguiſh Longinus; who certainly wanted not underſtanding, though he might not poſſeſs the philoſophi⯑cal [133] ſagacity of the Stagyrite. When conſidered in every point of view, he appears the moſt conſummate character among the Critics of anti⯑quity. If Warburton wore any reſemblance to either of theſe mighty names, I apprehend it muſt be to the former, and perhaps in imagina⯑tion he was ſuperior to Ariſtotle; but, of the three qualities which I have ventured to conſider as requiſite in the perfect Critic, I conceive him to have been miſerably deficient in the laſt, and certainly the moſt eſſential of the three; for, as the great Commentator of Horace has phi⯑loſophically and truly remarked, in a note to that Poet, "Feeling, or Sentiment, is not only the ſureſt, but the ſole ultimate arbiter of works of genius ^*." A man may poſſeſs an acute underſtanding and a lively imagination, without being a ſound Critic; and this truth perhaps can⯑not be more clearly ſhewn than in the writings of Warburton. His underſtanding was undoubtedly acute, his imagination was lively; but Imagination and Sentiment are by no means ſynonymous; and he cer⯑tainly wanted thoſe finer feelings which conſtitute accuracy of diſcern⯑ment, and a perfect perception of literary excellence. In conſequence of this defect, inſtead of ſeizing the real ſenſe and intended beauties of an author, he frequently followed the caprices of his own active fancy, which led him in queſt of ſecret meanings and myſterious alluſions; theſe he readily found, and his powers of underſtanding enabled him to dreſs them up in a plauſible and ſpecious form, and to perſuade many readers that he was (what he believed himſelf to be) the reſtorer of ge⯑nuine Criticiſm. As a farther proof that he was deſtitute of refined ſen⯑ſibility, I might alledge the peculiarity of his diction, which, as Dr. Johnſon has very juſtly remarked, is coarſe and impure. Perhaps it may be found, that in proportion as authors have enjoyed the quality which I ſuppoſe him to have wanted, they have been more or leſs diſ⯑tinguiſhed by the eaſe, the elegance, and the beauty of their language: were I required to fortify this conjecture by examples, I ſhould produce the names of Virgil and Racine, of Fenelon and Addiſon—that Addi⯑ſon, who, though inſulted by the Commentator of Pope with the names of an indifferent Poet and a worſe Critic, was, I think, as much ſuperior to his inſulter in critical taſte, and in ſolidity of judgment, as he con⯑feſſedly [134] was in the harmony of his ſtyle, and in all the finer graces of beautiful compoſition.

Appendix A.1.6 NOTE VI. VERSE 257.

Theſe, and the ſix ſubſe⯑quent lines, allude to the following paſſage in Dr. Warton's Eſſay on Pope. "I conclude theſe reflections with a remarkable fact. In no poliſhed nation, after Criticiſm has been much ſtudied, and the rules of writ⯑ing eſtabliſhed, has any very extraordinary work ever appeared. This has viſibly been the caſe in Greece, in Rome, and in France, after Ariſtotle, Horace, and Boileau had written their Arts of Poetry. In our own country, the rules of the Drama, for inſtance, were never more com⯑pletely underſtood than at preſent; yet what unintereſting, though faultleſs, Tragedies have we lately ſeen? ſo much better is our judgment than our execution. How to account for the fact here mentioned, ade⯑quately and juſtly, would be attended with all thoſe difficulties that await diſcuſſions relative to the productions of the human mind, and to the delicate and ſecret cauſes that influence them; whether or no the natural powers be not confined and debilitated by that timidity and cau⯑tion which is occaſioned by a rigid regard to the dictates of art; or whe⯑ther that philoſophical, that geometrical, and ſyſtematical ſpirit ſo much in vogue, which has ſpread itſelf from the ſciences even into polite lite⯑rature, by conſulting only reaſon, has not diminiſhed and deſtroyed ſen⯑timent, and made our poets write from and to the head, rather than the heart; or whether, laſtly, when juſt models, from which the rules have neceſſarily been drawn, have once appeared, ſucceeding writers, by vainly and ambitiouſly ſtriving to ſurpaſs thoſe juſt models, and to ſhine and ſurpriſe, do not become ſtiff and forced, and affected in their thoughts and diction." Warton's Eſſay, page 209, 3d edition.—I admire this ingenious and modeſt reaſoning; but, for the honour of that ſeverer art, which this pleaſing writer has the happy talent to enliven and embelliſh, I will venture to ſtart ſome doubts concerning the fact itſelf for which he endeavours to account. Perhaps our acquaintance with thoſe writ⯑ings of Greece and Rome, which were ſubſequent to Ariſtotle and Ho⯑race, is not ſufficiently perfect to decide the point either way in reſpect [135] to thoſe countries. But with regard to France, may we not aſſert, that her poetical productions, which aroſe after the publication of Boileau's Didactic Eſſay, are at leaſt equal, if not ſuperior, to thoſe which pre⯑ceded that period? If the Henriade of Voltaire is not a fine Epic poem, it is allowed to be the beſt which the French have to boaſt; not to mention the dramatic works of that extraordinary and univerſal author. If this remarkable fact may indeed be found true, I ſhould rather ſuppoſe it to ariſe from the irritable nature of the poetic ſpirit, ſo peculiarly averſe to reſtraint and controul. The Bard who could gallop his Pegaſus over a free and open plain, might be eager to engage in ſo pleaſing an exerciſe; but he who obſerved the direction-poſts ſo thickly and ſo per⯑verſely planted, that, inſtead of aſſiſting his career, they muſt probably occaſion his fall, would eaſily be tempted to deſcend from his ſteed, and to decline the courſe. Let me illuſtrate this conjecture by a ſtriking fact, in the very words of the Poet juſt mentioned, who was by no means deficient in poetical confidence, and who has left us the following anec⯑dote of himſelf, in that pleaſing little anonymous work entitled, Com⯑mentaire Hiſtorique ſur les Oeuvres de l' Auteur de la Henriade. "Il lut un jour pluſieurs chants de ce poeme chez le jeune Préſident de Maiſons, ſon intime ami. On l'impatienta par des objections; il jetta ſon manuſcrit dans le feu. Le Préſident Hénaut l'en retira avec peine. "Souvenez vous (lui dit Mr. Hénaut) dans une de ſes lettres, que c'eſt moi qui ai ſauvé la Henriade, et qu'il m'en a couté une belle paire de manchettes."

To return to the Eſſay on Pope.—I rejoice that the amiable Critic has at length obliged the public with the concluſion of his moſt engaging and ingenious work: he has the ſingular talent to inſtruct and to pleaſe even thoſe readers who are moſt ready to revolt from the opinion which he endeavours to eſtabliſh; and he has in ſome degree atoned for that exceſs of ſeverity which his firſt volume diſcovered, and which ſunk the reputation of Pope in the eyes of many, who judge not for themſelves, even far below that mortifying level to which he meant to reduce it. Had Pope been alive, to add this ſpirited eſſay to the bundle of writ⯑ings againſt himſelf which he is ſaid to have collected, he muſt have felt, that, like the dagger of Brutus, it gave the moſt painful blow, from the character of the aſſailant:

Yet Pope aſcended not the throne of Poetry by uſurpation, but was ſeated there by a legal title; of which I ſhall ſpeak farther in a ſubſe⯑quent note.

Appendix A.1.7 NOTE VII. VERSE 359.

Boileau's Art of Poetry made its firſt appearance in 1673, ſix years after the publication of Pa⯑radiſe Loſt. The verſes of the French Poet to which I have particularly alluded are theſe:

The preceding lines, which are ſaid to have been levelled at the Clovis of Deſmaretz, appear ſo pointed againſt the ſubject of Milton, that we might almoſt believe them intended as a ſatire on our divine Bard. [137] There is nothing in Boileau's admirable Didactic Eſſay ſo liable to ob⯑jection as the whole paſſage concerning Epic poetry. His patronage of the old Pagan divinities, and his oblique recommendation of Claſſical heroes, are alike exceptionable. Even a higher name than Boileau has failed in framing precepts for the Epic Muſe. The maxims delivered by Taſſo himſelf, in his Diſcourſe on Epic poetry, are ſo far from perfect, that an agreeable and judicious French critic has very juſtly ſaid of him, "S'il eût mis ſa theorie en pratique, ſon poeme n'auroit pas tant de charmes ^*." I am not ſo vain as to think of ſucceeding in the point where theſe immortal authors have failed; and I muſt beg my reader to remember, that the preſent work is by no means intended as a code of laws for the Epic poet; it is not my deſign ‘To write receipts how poems may be made.’ For I think the writer who would condeſcend to frame this higher ſpe⯑cies of compoſition according to the exact letter of any directions what⯑ever, may be moſt properly referred to that admirable receipt for an Epic poem with which Martinus Scriblerus will happily ſupply him. My ſerious deſire is to examine and refute the prejudices which have pro⯑duced, as I apprehend, the neglect of the Heroic Muſe: I wiſh to kindle in our Poets a warmer ſenſe of national honour, with ambition to excel in the nobleſt province of poeſy. If my eſſay ſhould excite that gene⯑rous enthuſiaſm in the breaſt of any young poetic genius, ſo far from wiſhing to confine him by any arbitrary dictates of my own imagination, I ſhould rather ſay to him, in the words of Dante's Virgil,

Appendix A.1.8 NOTE VIII. VERSE 377.

Appendix A.2.1 NOTE I. VERSE 28.

Homer, like moſt tranſcen⯑dent characters, has found detractors in every age. We learn from a paſſage in the life of Socrates by Diogenes Laertius, that the great Poet had, in his life-time, an adverſary named Sagaris, or Syagrus; and his calumniator Zoilus is proverbially diſtinguiſhed. In the Greek An⯑thologia, there is a ſepulchral inſcription on a ſlanderer of the ſovereign Bard, which, for its enthuſiaſtic ſingularity, I ſhall preſent to the reader.

Parthenius, ſay the Commentators, was a diſciple of Dionyſius of Alexandria, who flouriſhed under Nero and Trajan. Erycius, the author of the inſcription, is ſuppoſed to have lived in the ſame age. Among the modern adverſaries of Homer, the French are moſt remarkable for their ſeverity and injuſtice: nor is it ſurpriſing, that the nation which has diſplayed the fainteſt ſparks of Epic fire, ſhould be the moſt ſolici⯑tous to reduce the oppreſſive ſplendor of this exalted luminary. The moſt depreciating remarks on genius, in every walk, are generally made by thoſe who are the leaſt able to prove its rivals; and often, perhaps, not ſo much from the prevalence of envious malignity, as from the want of vivid and delicate perception. The merits and the failings of Homer were agitated in France with all the heat and acrimony of a theological diſpute. Madame Dacier diſtinguiſhed herſelf in the conteſt by her uncommon talents and erudition: ſhe combated for the Grecian Bard with the ſpirit of Minerva defending the Father of the Gods. It muſt however be confeſt, that ſhe ſometimes overſtepped the modeſty of wiſdom, and caught, unwarily, the ſcolding tone of Juno. It is indeed amuſing, to obſerve a people, who pique themſelves on their extreme po⯑liteneſs, and cenſure Homer for the groſs behaviour of his Gods, engag⯑ing among themſelves in a ſquabble concerning this very Poet, with all the unrefined animoſity of his Olympian Synod. In the whole contro⯑verſy there is nothing more worthy of remembrance and of praiſe, than the lively elegance and the pleaſing good-humour of Mr. de la Motte, who, though not one of the moſt exalted, was certainly one of the moſt amiable, characters in the literary world; and made a generous return to the ſeverity of his female antagoniſt, by writing an ode in her praiſe. [141] Voltaire has pointed out, with his uſual ſpirit, the failings of La Motte in his Abridgement of the Iliad; but he has frequently fallen himſelf into ſimilar defects, and is equally unjuſt to Homer, againſt whom he has levelled the moſt bitter ſarcaſms, both in proſe and verſe. Voltaire at⯑tacking Homer, is like Paris ſhooting his arrow at the heel of Achilles: the two Poets are as unequal as the two ancient Warriors; yet Homer, like Achilles, may have his vulnerable ſpot; but with this happy dif⯑ference, that although the ſhaft of ridicule, which is pointed againſt him, may be tinged with venom, its wound cannot be mortal. Perhaps no better anſwer can be made to all thoſe who amuſe themſelves with writing againſt Homer, than the following reply of Madame Dacier to the Abbé Terraſſon, who had attacked her favourite Bard in two abuſive volumes:—"Que Monſieur l'Abbé Terraſſon trouve Homere ſot, ridi⯑cule, extravagant, ennuyeux, c'eſt ſon affaire, le public jugera ſi c'eſt un defaut à Homere de deplaire à M. l'Abbé Terraſſon, ou à M. l'Abbé Terraſſon de ne pas gouter Homere."

Appendix A.2.2 NOTE II. VERSE 85.

Dio Chryſoſtom, in one of his orations, has called Socrates the diſciple of Homer, and drawn a ſhort parallel of their reſpective merits; obſerving in honour of both, ‘ [...]. DION. CHRYS. p. 559.’

Appendix A.2.3 NOTE III. VERSE 119.

I mean not to injure the dignity of Pindar by this aſſertion. Though Quinctilian, in drawing the character of the Grecian Lyric Poets, has given him high pre-emi⯑nence in that choir, we may, I think, very fairly conjecture that ſome odes of Alcaeus and Steſichorus were not inferior to thoſe of the Theban Bard, who is ſaid to have been repeatedly vanquiſhed in a poetical conteſt by his female antagoniſt Corinna. The abſurd jealouſy of our ſex con⯑cerning literary talents, has led ſome eminent writers to queſtion the merits of Corinna, as Olearius has obſerved, in his Diſſertation on the fe⯑male Poets of Greece. But her glory ſeems to have been fully eſtabliſhed [142] by the public memorial of her picture, exhibited in her native city, and adorned with a ſymbol of her victory. Pauſanias, who ſaw it, ſuppoſes her to have been one of the handſomeſt women of her time; and the ingenuity of ſome Critics imputes her ſucceſs in the poetical conteſt to the influence of her beauty. They have taken ſome liberties leſs par⯑donable with her literary reputation, and, by their curious comments on a ſingle Greek ſyllable, made the ſublime Pindar call his fair rival a Sow, though the unfortunate word [...], which may be twiſted into that meaning, ſignifies, in its more obvious conſtruction, that the Poet challenged his ſucceſsful antagoniſt to a new trial of ſkill.—For a more minute account of this ſingular piece of criticiſm, I muſt refer the reader to the notes on Corinna, in the Fragmenta Poetriarum, by Wolfius. Time has left us only a few diminutive ſcraps of Corinna's Poetry; but Plutarch, in his Treatiſe on the Glory of the Athenians, has preſerved one of her critical Bon-mots, which may deſerve to be repeated. That author aſſerts, that Corinna inſtructed Pindar in his youth, and adviſed him to adorn his compoſition with the embelliſh⯑ments of fable. The obedient Poet ſoon brought her ſome verſes, in which he had followed her advice rather too freely; when his Tutreſs, ſmiling at his profuſion, [...].

Appendix A.2.4 NOTE IV. VERSE 126.

Apollonius, ſurnamed the Rhodian from the place of his reſidence, is ſuppoſed to have been a native of Alexandria; where he is ſaid to have recited ſome por⯑tion of his Poem, while he was yet a youth. Finding it ill received by his countrymen, he retired to Rhodes, where he is conjectured to have poliſhed and completed his Work, ſupporting himſelf by the profeſſion of Rhetoric, and receiving from the Rhodians the freedom of their city. He at length returned, with conſiderable honour, to the place of his birth, ſucceeding Eratoſthenes in the care of the Alexan⯑drian Library, in the reign of Ptolemy Euergetes, who aſcended the throne of Egypt in the year before Chriſt 246. That prince had been [143] educated by the famous Ariſtarchus, and rivalled the preceding ſove⯑reigns of his liberal family in the munificent encouragement of learning. Apollonius was a diſciple of the poet Callimachus; but their connection ended in the moſt violent enmity, which was probably owing to ſome degree of contempt expreſſed by Apollonius for the light compoſitions of his maſter. The learned have vainly endeavoured to diſcover the particulars of their quarrel.— The only Work of Apol⯑lonius which has deſcended to modern times, is his Poem, in four Books, on the Argonautic expedition. Both Longinus and Quintilian have aſſigned to this Work the mortifying character of Mediocrity; but there lies an appeal from the ſentence of the moſt candid and en⯑lightened Critics to the voice of Nature; and the merit of Apollonius has little to apprehend from the deciſion of this ultimate judge. His Poem abounds in animated deſcription, and in paſſages of the moſt ten⯑der and pathetic beauty. How finely painted is the firſt ſetting forth of the Argo! and how beautifully is the wife of Chiron introduced, holding up the little Achilles in her arms, and ſhewing him to his father Peleus as he ſailed along the ſhore! But the chief excellence in our Poet, is the ſpirit and delicacy with which he has delineated the paſſion of love in his Medea. That Virgil thought very highly of his merit in this particular is ſufficiently evident from the minute exactneſs with which he has copied many tender touches of the Grecian Poet. Thoſe who compare the third Book of Apollonius with the fourth of Virgil, may, I think, perceive not only that Dido has ſome features of Medea, but that the two Bards, however different in their reputation, reſembled each other in their genius; and that they both excel in deli⯑cacy and pathos.

Appendix A.2.5 NOTE V. VERSE 190.

Scaliger appears to be the moſt extravagant of all the Critics who have laviſhed their undiſtinguiſh⯑ing encomiums on Virgil, by aſſerting that he alone is entitled to the name of Poet. Poetices, lib. iii. c. 2. — Though the opinion of Spence, and other modern Critics, concerning the character of Aeneas, conſidered as an allegorical portrait of Auguſtus, ſeems to gain ground, yet it might perhaps be eaſy to overturn the ingenious conjectures [144] and the fanciful reaſoning by which that idea has been ſupported. This attempt would have the ſanction of one of the moſt judicious Commentators of Virgil; for the learned Heyne expreſsly rejects all allegorical interpretation, and thinks it improbable that a Poet of ſo correct a judgment could have adopted a plan which muſt neceſſarily contract and cramp his powers. He even ventures to aſſert, that if the character of Aeneas was delineated as an allegorical portrait of Auguſtus, the execution of it is unhappy. The ſtrongeſt argument which has been adduced to ſupport this conjecture, is founded on the ingenious interpretation of the following paſſage in the opening of the third Georgic:

Theſe lines, in which Virgil expreſſes his intention of dedicating a temple to Auguſtus, have been conſidered as the nobleſt allegory of ancient Poetry ^*; and the great Critic who firſt ſtarted the idea, has expatiated, in the triumph of his diſcovery, on the myſterious beauties they contain: but the whole of this hypotheſis is unfortunately built upon the rejec⯑tion of three verſes, which are pronounced unworthy of the Poet, and which, though found in every MS. the Critic claims a right of re⯑moving. A licence ſo extraordinary cannot even be juſtified by the talents of this accompliſhed writer; for if the leſs elegant paſſages of the ancient Poets might be removed at pleaſure, their compoſitions would be expoſed to the caprice of every fantaſtic commentator. The obvious and literal interpretation not only renders this violence unne⯑ceſſary, but is more agreeable to the judgment of the Poet and the man⯑ners [145] of his age. The cuſtom of erecting real temples was ſo familiar to antiquity, that a Roman would never have ſuſpected the edifice was to be raiſed only with poetical materials. We may even conjecture, from a line of Statius, that the Poet himſelf had a temple erected to his memory; and, without any breach of probability, we may admit his intention of giving his living Emperor ſuch a teſtimony of his gra⯑titude. This adulation, though ſhocking to us, was too generally juſtified by example to oblige the Poet to palliate it by a fiction. He had before acquieſced in the divinity of his Imperial Patron, and had expreſſed the idea in its full ſenſe.

Having made ſuch an invocation in the beginning of his Work, was his delicacy afterwards to be ſhocked, and oblige him to pay a compliment under the diſguiſe of an obſcure conceit? for that allegory muſt be allowed to be obſcure, which had remained through ſo many ages unexplained. The unfortunate rejected lines, for whoſe elegance we do not contend, may at leaſt be reſcued from impropriety by a li⯑teral interpretation of the preceding paſſage; for, diſmiſs the conjectured allegory, and the chief objections againſt them remain no longer. If the phraſeology be peculiar, it is at leaſt ſupported by concurring MSS. The adjective ardens is ſometimes undoubtedly joined to a word that does not denote a ſubſtance of heat or flame, as the Critic himſelf ad⯑mits in the caſe of ardentes hoſtes, to which we may add the verbum ardens of Cicero. As to the line which is ſaid to contain the moſt glaring note of illegitimacy, ‘Tithoni primâ quot abeſt ab origine Caeſar,’ many reaſons might induce the Poet to uſe the name of Tithonus, which at this diſtance of time it is not eaſy for us to conjecture. Per⯑haps [146] he choſe it to vary the expreſſion of Aſſaraci Proles, which he had adopted in the preceding lines. The abſurdity of the ſubject-matter, and the place in which it is introduced, that are inſiſted on as the prin⯑cipal objections, ariſe ſolely from the allegorical hypotheſis: without it the conſtruction will be plain and natural. The Poet expreſſes his intention of erecting a temple to Auguſtus, and expatiates on the mag⯑nificence with which it was to be adorned: he then returns to his pre⯑ſent poetical ſubject; ‘Interea Dryadum ſylvas ſaltuſque ſequamur:’ and, having dwelt a little on that, to avoid too long a digreſſion, very naturally reſumes the praiſes of the Emperor, by alluding to the ſublimer ſong which he intended to devote to him hereafter.

Perhaps the important poſition that gave riſe to this conjecture, and to others of a ſimilar complexion, "that the propriety of allegorical com⯑poſition made the diſtinguiſhed pride of ancient poetry," is as queſtion⯑able as the conjecture itſelf; and a diligent and judicious peruſal of the ancient Poets might convince us, that ſimplicity was their genuine character, and that many of their allegorical beauties have originated in the fertile imagination of their commentators. Ariſtarchus, indeed, the celebrated model of ancient criticiſm, rejected with great ſpirit the alle⯑gorical interpretations of Homer, as we are informed by Euſthathius; but the good Archbiſhop of Theſſalonica, who, like ſome modern pre⯑lates, had a paſſion for allegory, cenſures the great Critic of Alexandria for his more ſimple mode of conſtruction, and ſuppoſes it an injury to the refined beauties and profound wiſdom of the Poet. ‘ [...]. EUSTH. vol. iii. page 1300.’

Appendix A.2.6 NOTE VI. VERSE 260.

There is hardly any emi⯑nent perſonage of antiquity who has ſuffered more from detraction, both [147] in his literary and moral character, than the poet Lucan. His fate, indeed, ſeems in all points to have been peculiarly ſevere. His early death, at an age when few Poets have even laid the foundation of their capital work, is itſelf ſufficient to excite our compaſſion and regret; but to periſh by the envious tyranny of Nero, may be conſidered as a bleſſing, when compared with the more cruel misfortune of being branded with infamy in the immortal pages of Tacitus. As I am per⯑ſuaded that the great Hiſtorian has inadvertently adopted the groſſeſt calumny againſt our Poet, I ſhall moſt readily aſſign my reaſons for thinking ſo. It may firſt be proper to give a ſhort ſketch of Lucan's life.—He was the ſon of Anneus Mela, the youngeſt brother of Seneca; and though born at Corduba, was conveyed to Rome at the age of eight months: a circumſtance, as his more indulgent critics obſerve, which ſufficiently refutes the cenſure of thoſe who conſider his language as provincial. At Rome he was educated under the Stoic Cornutus, ſo warmly celebrated by his diſciple Perſius the Satiriſt, who was the in⯑timate friend of our Poet. In the cloſe of his education Lucan is ſaid to have paſſed ſome time at Athens. On his return to Rome he roſe to the office of Quaeſtor, before he had attained the legal age. He was afterwards inrolled among the Augurs; and married a lady of noble birth, of whoſe amiable character I ſhall ſpeak more at large in a ſubſe⯑quent note. Lucan had for ſome time been admitted to familiarity with Nero, when the Emperor choſe to contend for poetical honours by the public recital of a poem he had compoſed on Niobe; and ſome verſes of this imperial production are ſuppoſed to be preſerved in the firſt Satire of Perſius. Lucan had the hardineſs to repeat a poem on Orpheus, in competition with that of Nero; and, what is more remark⯑able, the judges of the conteſt were juſt and bold enough to decide againſt the Emperor. From hence Nero became the perſecutor of his ſucceſſ⯑ful rival, and forbade him to produce any poetry in public. The well-known conſpiracy of Piſo againſt the tyrant ſoon followed; and Taci⯑tus, with his uſual ſarcaſtic ſeverity, concludes that Lucan engaged in the enterprize from the poetical injuries he had received: a remark which does little credit to the candour of the Hiſtorian; who might have found a much nobler, and, I will add, a more probable motive for his conduct, in the generous ardor of his character, and his paſſionate adora⯑tion [148] of freedom. In the ſequel of his narration, Tacitus alledges a charge againſt our Poet, which, if it were true, muſt lead us to deteſt him as the moſt abject of mankind. The Hiſtorian aſſerts, that Lucan, when accuſed of the conſpiracy, for ſome time denied the charge; but; corrupted at laſt by a promiſe of impunity, and deſirous to atone for the tardineſs of his confeſſion, accuſed his mother Atilla as his accomplice. This circumſtance is ſo improbable in itſelf, and ſo little conſonant to the general character of Lucan, that ſome writers have treated it with contempt, as a calumny invented by Nero to vilify the object of his envious abhorrence. But the name of Tacitus has given ſuch an air of authority to the ſtory, that it may ſeem to deſerve a more ſerious diſ⯑cuſſion, particularly as there are two ſubſequent events related by the ſame Hiſtorian, which have a tendency to invalidate the accuſation ſo injurious to our Poet. The events I mean are, the fate of Annaeus, and the eſcape of Atilla, the two parents of Lucan. The former died in conſequence of art accuſation brought againſt him, after the death of his ſon, by Fabius Romanus, who had been intimate with Lucan and forged ſome letters in his name, with the deſign of proving his father concerned in the conſpiracy. Theſe letters were produced to Nero, who ſent them to Annaeus, from an eager deſire, ſays Tacitus, to get poſſeſſion of his wealth. From this fact two inferences may be drawn, according to the different lights in which it may be conſidered:—If the accuſation againſt Annaeus was juſt, it is clear that Lucan had not betrayed his fa⯑ther, and he appears the leſs likely to have endangered by his confeſſion the life of a parent, to whom he owed a ſtill tenderer regard:—If Annaeus was not involved in the conſpiracy, and merely put to death by Nero for the ſake of his treaſure, we may the more readily believe, that the tyrant who murdered the father from avarice, might calumniate the ſon from envy. But the eſcape of Atilla affords us the ſtrongeſt reaſon to conclude that Lucan was perfectly innocent of the abject and unnatural treachery, of which Tacitus has ſuppoſed him guilty. Had the Poet really named his mother as his accomplice, would the vindic⯑tive and ſanguinary Nero have ſpared the life of a woman, whoſe family he deteſted, particularly when other females were put to death for their ſhare in the conſpiracy? That Atilla was not in that number, the Hiſtorian himſelf informs us in the following remarkable ſentence, [149] Atilla mater Annaei Lucani, ſine abſolutione, ſine ſupplicio, diſſimulata; thus tranſlated by Gordon: "The information againſt Atilla, the mo⯑ther of Lucan, was diſſembled; and, without being cleared, ſhe eſcaped unpuniſhed."

The preceding remarks will, I hope, vindicate to every candid mind the honour of our Poet; whoſe firmneſs and intrepidity of character are indeed very forcibly diſplayed in that picture of his death which Tacitus himſelf has given us. I ſhall preſent it to the Engliſh reader in the words of Gordon: — Lucan, "while his blood iſſued in ſtreams, perceiving his feet and hands to grow cold and ſtiffen, and life to retire by little and little to the extremities, while his heart was ſtill beating with vital warmth, and his faculties no wiſe impaired, recollected ſome lines of his own, which deſcribed a wounded ſoldier expiring in a manner that reſembled this. The lines themſelves he rehearſed; and they were the laſt words he ever uttered." The Annals of Tacitus, Book xv. — The critics differ concerning the verſes of the Pharſalia which the author quoted in ſo memorable a manner. I ſhall tranſcribe the two paſſages he is ſuppoſed to have repeated, and only add that Lipſius contends for the latter.

Such was the death of Lucan, before he had completed his twenty⯑ſeventh year. If his character as a man has been injured by the Hiſto⯑rian, his poetical reputation has been treated not leſs injuriouſly by the Critics. Quintilian, by a frivolous diſtinction, diſputes his title to be claſſed among the Poets; and Scaliger ſays, with a brutality of language diſgraceful only to himſelf, that he ſeems rather to bark than to ſing. But theſe inſults may appear amply compenſated, when we remember, that in the moſt poliſhed nations of modern Europe the moſt elevated and poetic ſpirits have been his warmeſt admirers; that in France he was idolized by Corneille, and in England tranſlated by Rowe.—The ſevereſt cenſures on Lucan have proceeded from thoſe who have unfairly compared his language to that of Virgil: but how unjuſt and abſurd is ſuch a compariſon! it is comparing an uneven block of porphyry, taken rough from the quarry, to the moſt beautiful ſuper⯑ſicies of poliſhed marble. How differently ſhould we think of Virgil as a poet, if we poſſeſſed only the verſes which he wrote at that period of life when Lucan compoſed his Pharſalia! In the diſpoſition of his ſubject, in the propriety and elegance of diction, he is undoubtedly far inferior to Virgil: but if we attend to the bold originality of his deſign, and to the vigour of his ſentiments; if we conſider the Pharſalia as the [151] rapid and uncorrected ſketch of a young poet, executed in an age when the ſpirit of his countrymen was broken, and their taſte in literature corrupted, it may juſtly be eſteemed as one of the moſt noble and moſt wonderful productions of the human mind.

Appendix A.2.7 NOTE VII. VERSE 293.

Pompey, after his defeat at Pharſalia, proceeded to Leſbos, as he had left his wife Cornelia to the protection of that iſland; which received the unfortunate hero with a ſublime generoſity. The Leſbians entreated him to remain amongſt them, and promiſed to defend him. Pompey expreſſed his gratitude for their fidelity, but declined the offer, and embarked with Cornelia. The concern of this gallant people on the departure of their amiable gueſt is thus deſcribed by Lucan:

Appendix A.2.8 NOTE VIII. VERSE 296.

Polla Argentaria was the daughter of a Roman Senator, and the wife of Lucan. She is ſaid to have tranſcribed and corrected the three firſt books of the Pharſalia, after the death of her huſband. It is much to be regretted that we poſſeſs not the poem which he wrote on the merits of this amiable and accompliſhed woman; but her name is immortalized by two ſurviving Poets of that age. The veneration which ſhe paid to the memory of her huſband, is recorded by Martial; and more poetically deſcribed in that pleaſing and elegant little production of Statius, Genethliacon Lucani, a poem which I the more readily commend, as I may be thought by ſome readers un⯑juſt towards its author, in omitting to celebrate his Thebaid. I confeſs, indeed, the miſcellaneous poems of Statius appear to me his moſt va⯑luable work: in moſt of theſe there is much imagination and ſentiment, in harmonious and ſpirited verſe. The little poem which I have men⯑tioned, on the anniverſary of Lucan's birth, is ſaid to have been written at the requeſt of Argentaria. The Author, after invoking the poetical deities to attend the ceremony, touches with great delicacy and ſpirit on the compoſitions of Lucan's childhood, which are loſt, and the Phar⯑ſalia, the production of his early youth; he then pays a ſhort compli⯑ment to the beauty and talents of Argentaria, laments the cruel fate which deprived her ſo immaturely of domeſtic happineſs; and concludes with the following addreſs to the ſhade of Lucan:

I cannot cloſe this note without obſerving, that the preceding verſes have a ſtrong tendency to prove, that Lucan was perfectly innocent in regard to the accuſation which I have examined before. Had he been really guilty of baſely endangering the life of his mother, it is not pro⯑bable that his wife would have honoured his memory with ſuch enthu⯑ſiaſtic veneration, or that Statius, in verſes deſigned to do him honour, would have alluded to the mother of Nero. The Reader will pardon my recurring to this ſubject, as it is pleaſing to make uſe of every argument which may remove ſo odious and unjuſt a ſtain from a manly and exalted character.

Appendix A.3.1 NOTE I. VERSE 36.

An alluſion to ridens moriar, the cloſe of the celebrated Northern Ode, by the Daniſh king Regner Lodbrog; a tranſlation of which is inſerted in the curious little volume of Runic poetry, printed for Dodſley, 1763.

Bartholin, in his admirable Eſſay on the Cauſes which inſpired the Danes with a Contempt of Death, affirms, that it was cuſtomary with the Northern warriors to ſing their own exploits in the cloſe of life. He men⯑tions the example of a hero named Hallmundus, who being mortally wounded, commanded his daughter to attend while he compoſed a poem, and to inſcribe it on a tablet of wood. BARTHOLIN. Lib. i. cap. 10.

Appendix A.3.2 NOTE II. VERSE 60.

The poetry of Provence contains many ſpirited ſatires againſt the enormities of the Clergy. The moſt remarkable, is the bold invective of the Troubadour Guillaume Fi⯑gueira, in which he execrates the avarice and the cruelty of Rome. The Papal cauſe found a female Poet to defend it: Germonda of Montpellier compoſed a poetical reply to the ſatire of Figueira. See MILLOT's Hiſt. des Troubadours, vol. ii. p. 455.

Appendix A.3.3 NOTE III. VERSE 76.

There never was a cen⯑tury utterly deſtitute of ingenious and elegant Poets, ſays the learned Polycarp Leyſer, after having patiently traced the obſcure progreſs of Latin poetry through all the dark ages. Indeed the merit of ſome Latin Poets, in a period that we commonly ſuppoſe involved in the groſſeſt barbariſm, is ſingularly ſtriking; many of theſe are of the Epic kind, and, as they deſcribe the manners and cuſtoms of their reſpective times, a complete review of them might form a curious and entertaining work. I ſhall briefly mention ſuch as appear moſt worthy of notice.

Abbo, a Pariſian monk, of the Benedictine order, wrote a poem on the ſiege of Paris by the Normans and the Danes, at which he was pre⯑ſent, in the year 886: it is printed in the ſecond volume of Ducheſne's Script.Francorum; and, though it has little or no poetical merit, may be regarded as an hiſtorical curioſity. The following lines, addreſſed to the city of Paris, in the beginning of the work, may ſerve as a ſpecimen of its language:

Leyſer has confounded this Poet with another of this name; but Fa⯑bricius has corrected the miſtake, in his Bibliotheca Latina mediae et infimae Aetatis.

Guido, Biſhop of Amiens from the year 1058 to 1076, wrote an Heroic poem on the exploits of William the Conqueror, in which, according to Ordericus Vitalis, he imitated both Virgil and Statius. William of Apulia compoſed, at the requeſt of Pope Urban the IId, a poem, in five books, on the actions of the Normans in Sicily, Apulia, and Calabria, to the death of Robert Guiſcard their prince; addreſſing [157] his work to the ſon of that hero. It was written between the years 1080 and 1099; firſt printed in 1582, 4to; and again in Muratori's Script. Ital. Du Cange, in his Notes to the Alexiad of the Princeſs Anna Comnena, has illuſtrated that hiſtory by frequent and long quota⯑tions from William of Apulia; but though the learned Critic gives him the title of Scriptor Egregius, his poetry appears to me but a few de⯑grees ſuperior to that of the Monk Abbo, whom I have juſt mentioned. The Reader may judge from the following paſſage, which I ſelect not only as a ſpecimen of the Author's ſtyle, but as it ſhews that the wives of theſe martial Princes ſhared with them in all the perils of war.

The Princeſs Comnena has alſo celebrated the fortitude which this Heroine, whoſe name was Gaita, diſplayed in the battle; and it is re⯑markable, that the royal female Hiſtorian deſcribes the noble Amazon. more poetically than the Latin Poet.

Gualfredo, an Italian, who ſucceeded to the biſhoprick of Siena in the year 1080, and died in 1127, wrote an Heroic poem on the expedition of Godfrey of Boulogne, which is ſaid to be ſtill preſerved in MS. at Siena. I believe Gualfredo is the firſt Poet, in point of time, who treated of the happy ſubject of the Cruſades; which was afterwards em⯑belliſhed by two very elegant writers of Latin verſe, Iſcanus and Gun⯑ther, of whom I ſhall preſently ſpeak, and at length received its higheſt honour from the genius of Taſſo. There is alſo an early Latin poem on this ſubject, the joint production of two writers, named Fulco and Aegi⯑dius, whom the accurate Fabricius places in the beginning of the 13th. century; the title of the work is Hiſtoria. Geſtorum Viae: noſtri Tem⯑poris Hieroſolymitanae. It is printed in the fourth volume of Ducheſne's Script. Franc. and with conſiderable additions in the third volume of [158] Anecdota Edmundi Martene. I tranſcribe part of the opening of this poem, as the curious reader may have a pleaſure in comparing it with that of Taſſo.

I will only add the portrait of Godfrey:

The poem cloſes with the capture of Jeruſalem.

Laurentius of Verona, who flouriſhed about the year 1120, wrote an Heroic poem, in ſeven books, entitled, Rerum in Majorica Piſanorum. Edidit Ughellus, tom. 3. Italiae ſacrae.

But in merit and reputation, theſe early Latin Poets of modern time are very far inferior to Philip Gualtier de Chatillon, who ſeems to have been the firſt that caught any portion of true poetic ſpirit in Latin verſe. He was Provoſt of the Canons of Tournay ^* about the year 1200, according to Mr. Warton, who has given ſome ſpecimens of his ſtyle in the ſecond Diſſertation prefixed to his admirable Hiſtory of Engliſh Poetry. I ſhall therefore only add, that the beſt edition of his Alexandreid, an Heroic [159] poem in ten books on Alexander the Great, was printed at Leyden, 4to, 1558.

The ſuperior merit of Joſephus Iſcanus, or Joſeph of Exeter, has been alſo diſplayed by the ſame judicious Encomiaſt, in the Diſſertation I have mentioned; nor has he failed to commemorate two Latin Epic Poets of the ſame period, and of conſiderable merit for the time in which they lived—Gunther, and William of Bretagny; the firſt was a German monk, who wrote after the year 1108, and has left various hiſtorical and poetical works; particularly two of the Epic kind—Solymarium, a poem on the taking of Jeruſalem by Godfrey of Bulloign; and another, entitled Ligurinus, on the exploits of the Emperor Frederick Barba⯑roſſa, which he completed during the life of that Prince. The firſt was never printed; of the latter there have been ſeveral editions, and one by the celebrated Melancthon, in 1569. That his poetical merit was conſiderable in many reſpects, will appear from the following verſes, in which he ſpeaks of himſelf.

William of Bretagny was preceptor to Pierre Charlot, natural ſon of Philip Auguſtus, King of France, and addreſſed a poem to his pupil, entitled Karlotis, which is yet unpubliſhed; but his greater work, called Philippis, an Heroic poem in twelve books, is printed in the collections of Ducheſne and Pithaeus; and in a ſeparate 4to volume, with a copious commentary by Barthius. Notwithſtanding the praiſes beſtowed on this Author by his learned Commentator, who prefers him to all his contemporaries, he appears to me inferior in poetic ſpirit to his three rivals, Gualtier de Chatillon, Iſcanus, and Gunther. Yet his work is by no means deſpicable in its ſtyle, and may be conſidered as a valuable picture of the times in which he lived; for he was himſelf engaged in many of the ſcenes which he deſcribes. His profeſt deſign is to cele⯑brate the exploits, of Philip Auguſtus; and he cloſes his poem with the [160] death of that Monarch, which happened in 1223. He addreſſes his work, in two ſeparate poetical dedications, to Lewis, the ſucceſſor of Philip, and to Pierre Charlot his natural ſon, who was Biſhop of Noyon in 1240, and died 1249, He ſeems to have been excited to this compo⯑ſition by the reputation of Gualtier's Alexandreid; to which he thus alludes, in the verſes addreſſed to Lewis:

He takes occaſion alſo, in two other parts of his poem, to pay a liberal compliment to Gualtier, to whom, in poetical ability, he confeſſes himſelf inferior; but this inferiority his admirer Barthius will not allow. Of their reſpective talents the reader may judge, who will compare the paſſage which Mr. Warton has cited from the Alexandreid, with the following lines, in which William of Bretagny uſes the very ſimile of his predeceſſor, comparing his hero Philip to a young lion.

I will add the following paſſage from the eleventh Book, as it con⯑tains an animated portrait, and a ſimile more original than the pre⯑ceding.

[162]William of Bretagny had an immediate ſucceſſor in Latin poetry, who appears to have at leaſt an equal portion of poetical ſpirit; the name of this Author is Nicholas de Brai, who wrote an Heroic poem on the actions of Louis the VIIIth, after the death of that Monarch, and addreſſed it to William of Auvergne, who was Biſhop of Paris from the year 1228 to 1248. As a ſpecimen of his deſcriptive power, I ſelect the following lines, which form part of a long deſcription of a Goblet preſented to the King on his acceſſion:

The Author proceeds to deſcribe Thebes and Troy, as they are figured on this ſuperb Goblet; and concludes his account of the workmanſhip with the four following lines, of peculiar beauty for the age in which they appeared:

[163]This Poem, Which the author ſeems to have left imperfect, is printed in the fifth volume of Ducheſne's Script. Francorum.—England is ſaid to have produced another Heroic Poet of conſiderable merit, who cele⯑brated in Latin verſe the exploits of Richard the Firſt, and who was called Gulielmus Peregrinus, from his having attended that Prince to the Holy Land. Leland mentions him by the name of Gulielmus de Canno, and Pits calls him Poetarum ſui temporis apud noſtrates facile Princeps; but I do not find that his Work was ever printed; nor do the ſeveral biographical writers who ſpeak of him, inform us where it ex⯑iſts in MS.

In Italy the Latin language is ſuppoſed to have been cultivated with ſtill greater ſucceſs, and the reſtoration of its purity is in great meaſure aſcribed to Albertino Muſſato, whoſe merits were firſt diſplayed to our country by the learned author of the Eſſay on Pope.—Muſſato was a Paduan, of high rank and great talents, but unfortunate. He died in exile, 1329, and left, beſides many ſmaller Latin pieces, an Heroic Poem, De Geſtis Italorum poſt Henricum VII. Caeſarem, ſeu de Obſi⯑dione Domini Canis Grandis de Verona circa maenia Paduanae civitatis et Conflictu ejus.—Quadrio, from whom I tranſcribe this title, ſays it is printed in the tenth volume of Muratori. Voſſius, who ſpeaks of him as an Hiſtorian, aſſerts that he commanded in the war which is the ſubject of his Poem.

In a few years after the death of Muſſato, Petrarch received the laurel at Rome, for his Latin Epic poem, entitled Africa; a performance which has ſunk ſo remarkably from the high reputation it once obtained, that the great admirer and encomiaſt of Petrarch, who has publiſhed three entertaining quarto volumes on his life, calls it "Un ouvrage ſans chaleur, ſans invention, ſans interet, qui n'a pas meme le merite de la verſification & du ſtyle, & dont il eſt impoſſible de ſoutenir la lecture.— I muſt obſerve, however, that Taſſo, in his Eſſay on Epic Poetry, beſtows a very high encomium on that part of Petrarch's Latin poem in which he celebrates the loves of Sophoniſba and Maſiniſſa; and indeed the cenſure of this amiable French writer, who in other points has done ample juſtice to the merits of Petrarch, appears to me infinitely too ſevere. There are many paſſages in this neglected Poem conceived with great force and imagination, and expreſſed with equal elegance of lan⯑guage. [164] I ſhall ſelect ſome verſes from that part of it which has been honoured by the applauſe of Taſſo. The following lines deſcribe the anguiſh of the young Numidian Prince, when he is conſtrained to aban⯑don his lovely bride:

The well-known cataſtrophe of the unfortunate Sophoniſba is related with much poetical ſpirit. The cloſe of her life, and her firſt appearance in the regions of the dead, are peculiarly ſtriking.

With Petrarch I may cloſe this curſory review of the neglected authors who wrote Heroic poems in Latin, during the courſe of the dark ages.—A peculiar circumſtance induces me to add another name to the preceding liſt. John, Abbot of Peterborough, in the reign of Edward the Third, wrote an Heroic poem, entitled Bellum Navarrenſe, 1366, de Petro rege Aragoniae, & Edwardo Principe. This per⯑formance, containing five hundred and ſixty verſes, is ſaid to be pre⯑ſerved in MS. in the Bodleian Library; and I have thought it worthy of notice, becauſe it treats of the very ſubject on which Dryden informs us he had once projected an Epic poem.

Of the many Latin compoſitions of the Epic kind, which later times have produced, the Chriſtiad of Vida, the Sarcotis of Maſſenius, and the Conſtantine of Mambrun, appear to me the moſt worthy of regard; but even theſe are ſeldom peruſed: and indeed the Poet, who in a poliſhed age prefers the uſe of a dead language to that of a living one, can only expect, and perhaps only deſerves, the attention of a few curious ſe⯑queſtered ſtudents.

Appendix A.3.4 NOTE IV. VERSE 81.

Dante Allighieri was born at Florence, in May 1265, of an ancient and honourable family. Boccacio, who lived in the ſame period, has left a very curious and entertaining Treatiſe, on the Life, the Studies, and Manners of this extraordinary Poet; whom he regarded as his maſter, and for whoſe memory he pro⯑feſſed the higheſt veneration. This intereſting biographer relates, that Dante, before he was nine years old, conceived a paſſion for the lady whom he has immortalized in his ſingular Poem. Her age was near his own; and her name was Beatrice, the daughter of Folco Portinari, a noble citizen of Florence. Of this fair one the beſt accounts are ob⯑ſcure. Some refining commentators have even denied her corporeal exiſt⯑ence; affirming her to be nothing more or leſs than Theology. But we may queſtion if Theology was ever the miſtreſs of ſo young a lover. The paſſion of Dante, however, like that of his ſucceſſor Petrarch, ſeems to have been of the chaſte and Platonic kind, according to the account he has himſelf given of it, in one of his early productions, entitled Vita Nuova; a mixture of myſterious poetry and proſe, in which he mentions both the origin of his affection and the death of his miſtreſs, who, according to Boccacio, died at the age of twenty-four. The ſame author aſſerts, that Dante fell into a deep melancholy in conſequence of this event, from which his friends endeavoured to raiſe him; by per⯑ſuading him to marriage. After ſome time he followed their advice, and repented it; for he unfortunately made choice of a lady who bore ſome reſemblance to the celebrated Xantippe. The Poet, not poſſeſſing the patience of Socrates, ſeparated himſelf from her with ſuch vehement expreſſions of diſlike, that he never afterwards admitted her to his pre⯑ſence, though ſhe had borne him ſeveral children.—In the early part of his life he gained ſome credit in a military character; diſtinguiſhing himſelf by his bravery in an action where the Florentines obtained a ſignal victory over the citizens of Arezzo. He became ſtill more emi⯑nent by the acquiſition of civil honours; and at the age of thirty-five he roſe to be one of the chief magiſtrates of Florence, when that dignity was conferred by the ſuffrages of the people. From this ex⯑altation [167] the Poet himſelf dated his principal misfortunes, as appears from the fragment of a letter quoted by Lionardo Bruni; one of his early biographers, where Dante ſpeaks of his political failure with that liberal frankneſs which integrity inſpires.—Italy was at that time diſ⯑tracted by the contending factions of the Ghibellins and the Guelphs: the latter, among whom Dante took an active part, were again divided into the Blacks and the Whites. Dante, ſays Gravina, exerted all his influence to unite theſe inferior parties; but his efforts were ineffectual, and he had the misfortune to be unjuſtly perſecuted by thoſe of his own faction. A powerful citizen of Florence, named Corſo Donati, had taken meaſures to terminate theſe inteſtine broils, by introducing Charles of Valois, brother to Philip the Fair, King of France. Dante, with great vehemence, oppoſed this diſgraceful project, and obtained the baniſhment of Donati and his partizans. The exiles applied to the Pope (Boniface the VIIIth) and by his aſſiſtance ſucceeded in their deſign. Charles of Valois entered Florence in triumph, and thoſe who had oppoſed his admiſſion were baniſhed in their turn. Dante had been diſpatched to Rome as the ambaſſador of his party, and was re⯑turning, when he received intelligence of the revolution in his native city. His enemies, availing themſelves of his abſence, had procured an iniquitous ſentence againſt him, by which he was condemned to baniſh⯑ment, and his poſſeſſions were confiſcated. His two enthuſiaſtic bio⯑graphers, Boccacio acid Manetti, expreſs the warmeſt indignation againſt this injuſtice of his country. Dante, on receiving the intelligence, took refuge in Siena, and afterwards in Arezzo, where many of his party were aſſembled. An attempt was made to ſurprize the city of Florence, by a ſmall army which Dante is ſuppoſed to have attended: the deſign miſcarried, and our Poet is conjectured to have wandered to various parts of Italy, till he found a patron in the great Can della Scala, Prince of Verona, whom he has celebrated in his Poem. The high ſpirit of Dante was ill ſuited to courtly dependence; and he is ſaid to have loſt the favour of his Veroneze patron by the rough frankneſs of his beha⯑viour. From Verona he retired to France, according to Manetti; and Boccacio affirms that he diſputed in the Theological Schools of Paris with great reputation. Bayle queſtions his viſiting Paris at this period of his life, and thinks it improbable, that a man, who had been one of [168] the chief magiſtrates of Florence, ſhould condeſcend to engage in the public ſquabbles of the Pariſian Theologiſts; but the ſpirit both of Dante, and the times in which he lived, ſufficiently account for this ex⯑erciſe of his talents; and his reſidence in France at this ſeaſon is con⯑firmed by Boccacio, in his life of our Poet, which Bayle ſeems to have had no opportunity of conſulting.

The election of Henry Count of Luxemburgh to the empire, in November 1308, afforded Dante a proſpect of being reſtored to his na⯑tive city, as he attached himſelf to the intereſt of the new Emperor, in whoſe ſervice he is ſuppoſed to have written his Latin treatiſe De Monarchia, in which he aſſerted the rights of the Empire againſt the encroachments of the Papacy. In the year 1311, he inſtigated Henry to lay ſiege to Florence; in which enterprize, ſays one of his Biographers, he did not appear in perſon, from motives of reſpect towards his native city. The Emperor was repulſed by the Florentines; and his death, which happened in the ſucceeding year, deprived Dante of all hopes concerning his re-eſtabliſhment in Florence.

After this diſappointment, he is ſuppoſed to have paſſed ſome years in roving about Italy in a ſtate of poverty and diſtreſs, till he found an honourable eſtabliſhment at Ravenna, under the protection of Guido Novello da Polenta, the lord of that city, who received this illuſtrious exile with the moſt endearing liberality, continued to protect him through the few remaining years of his life, and extended his munifi⯑cence to the aſhes of the Poet.

Eloquence was one of the many talents which Dante poſſeſſed in an eminent degree. On this account he is ſaid to have been employed on fourteen different embaſſies in the courſe of his life, and to have ſuc⯑ceeded in moſt of them. His patron Guido had occaſion to try his abilities in a ſervice of this nature, and diſpatched him as his ambaſſador to negociate a peace with the Venetians, who were preparing for hoſti⯑lities againſt Ravenna. Manetti aſſerts that he was unable to procure a public audience at Venice, and returned to Ravenna by land, from his apprehenſions of the Venetian fleet; when the fatigue of his journey, and the mortification of failing in his attempt to preſerve his generous patron from the impending danger, threw him into a fever, which ter⯑minated in death on the 14th of September 1321. He died, however, [169] in the palace of his friend, and the affectionate Guido paid the moſt ten⯑der regard to his memory. This magnificent patron, ſays Boccacio, commanded the body to be adorned with poetical ornaments, and, after being carried on a bier through the ſtreets of Ravenna by the moſt illuſ⯑trious citizens, to be depoſited in a marble coffin. He pronounced him⯑ſelf the funeral oration, and expreſſed his deſign of erecting a ſplendid monument in honour of the deceaſed: a deſign which his ſubſequent misfortunes rendered him unable to accompliſh. At his requeſt, many epitaphs Were written on the Poet: the beſt of them, ſays Boccacio, by Giovanni del Virgilio of Bologna, a famous author of that time, and the intimate friend of Dante. Boccacio then cites a few Latin verſes, not worth tranſcribing, ſix of which are quoted by Bayle as the com⯑poſition of Dante himſelf, on the authority of Paul Jovius. In 1483 Bernardo Bembo, the father of the celebrated Cardinal, raiſed a hand⯑ſome monument over the neglected aſhes of the Poet, with the following inſcription:

Before this period the Florentines had vainly endeavoured to obtain the bones of their great Poet from the city of Ravenna. In the age of Leo the Xth they made a ſecond attempt, by a ſolemn application to the Pope, for that purpoſe; and the great Michael Angelo, an enthuſiaſtic admirer of Dante, very liberally offered to execute a magnificent mo⯑nument to the Poet. The hopes of the Florentines were again unſuc⯑ceſsful. The particulars of their ſingular petition may be found in the notes to Condivi's Life of Michael Angelo.

The perſon and manners of Dante are thus repreſented by the deſcrip⯑tive pen of Boccacia:—"Fu adunque queſto noſtro Pceta di Mezzana ſtatura; e poichè alla matura età fu pervenuto, andò alquanto gravetto, ed era il ſuo andar grave, e manſueto, di oneſtiſſimi panni ſempre veſtito, [170] in quello abito, che era alla ſua matura età convenevole; il ſuo volto [...] lungo, il naſo aquilino, gli occhi anzi groſſi, che piccioli, le maſcelle grandi, e dal labbro di ſotto, era quel di ſopra avanzato; il colore era bruno, i capelli, e la barba ſpeſſi neri e creſpi, e ſempre nella faccia ma⯑linconico e penſoſo—Ne coſtumi publici e domeſtici mirabilmente fu compoſto e ordinato; più che niuno altro corteſe e civile; nel cibo [171] e nel poto fu modeſtiſſimo.—Though Dante is deſcribed as much inclined to melancholy, and his genius particularly delighted in the gloomy and ſublime, yet in his early period of life he ſeems to have poſſeſſed all the lighter graces of ſprightly compoſition, as appears from the following airy and ſportive ſonnet:

Theſe lively verſes were evidently written before the Poet loſt the object of his earlieſt attachment, as ſhe is mentioned by the name of Bice. At what time, and in what place, he executed the great and ſin⯑gular work which has rendered him immortal, his numerous Commen⯑tators ſeem unable to determine. Boccacio aſſerts, that he began it in his thirty-fifth year, and had finiſhed ſeven Cantos of his Inferno before his exile; that in the plunder of his houſe, on that event, the begin⯑ning [171] of his poem was fortunately preſerved, but remained for ſome time neglected, till its merit being accidentally diſcovered by an intelligent Poet named Dino, it was ſent to the Marquis Maroello Maleſpina, an Italian nobleman, by whom Dante was then protected. The Marquis reſtored theſe loſt papers to the Poet, and intreated him to proceed in a work which opened in ſo promiſing a manner. To this incident we are probably indebted for the poem of Dante, which he muſt have continued [172] under all the diſadvantages of an unfortunate and agitated life. It does not appear at what time he completed it perhaps before he quitted Ve⯑rona, as he dedicated the Paradiſe to his Veroneſe patron.—The Critics have variouſly accounted for his having called his poem Comedia. He gave it that title, ſaid one of his ſons, becauſe it opens with diſtreſs, and cloſes with felicity. The very high eſtimation in which this production was held by his country, appears from a ſingular inſtitution. The re⯑public of Florence, in the year 1373, aſſigned a public ſtipend to a per⯑ſon appointed to read lectures on the poem of Dante: Boccacio was the firſt perſon engaged in this office; but his death happening in two years after his appointment, his Comment extended only to the ſeventeen firſt Cantos of the inferno. The critical diſſertations that have been written on Dante are almoſt as numerous as thoſe to which Homer has given birth: the Italian, like the Grecian Bard, has been the ſubject of the higheſt panegyric, and of the groſſeſt invective. Voltaire has ſpoken of him with that precipitate vivacity, which ſo frequently led that lively Frenchman to inſult the reputation of the nobleſt writers. In one of his entertaining letters, he ſays to an Italian Abbé, "Je fais grand cas du courage, avec lequel vous avez oſé dire que Dante etoit un fou, et ſon ouvrage un monſtre—Le Dante pourra entrer dans les biblio⯑theques des curieux, mais il ne ſera jamais lu." But more temperate and candid Critics have not been wanting to diſplay the merits of this origi⯑nal Poet. Mr. Warton has introduced into his laſt volume on Engliſh Poetry, a judicious and ſpirited ſummary of Dante's performance. We have ſeveral verſions of the celebrated ſtory of Ugolino; but I believe no entire Canto of Dante has hitherto appeared in our language, though his whole work has been tranſlated into French, Spaniſh, and Latin verſe. The three Cantos which follow, were tranſlated a few years ago, to oblige a particular friend. The Author has ſince been ſolicited to execute an entire tranſlation of Dante; but the extreme inequality of this Poet would render ſuch a work a very laborious undertaking, and it appears very doubtful how far ſuch a verſion would intereſt our country. Perhaps the reception of theſe Cantos may diſcover to the Tranſlator the ſentiments of the public. At all events, he flatters himſelf that the enſuing portion of a celebrated poem may afford ſome pleaſure from its novelty, as he has endeavoured to give the Engliſh reader an idea of [173] Dante's peculiar manner, by adopting his triple rhyme; and he does not recollect that this mode of verſification has ever appeared before in our language; it has obliged him of courſe to make the number of tranſ⯑lated lines correſpond exactly with thoſe of the original. The diffi⯑culties attending this metre will ſufficiently ſhew themſelves, and obtain ſome degree of indulgence from the intelligent and candid reader.

Appendix A.3.5 NOTE V. VERSE 127.

Boccacio was almoſt utterly unknown to our country as a Poet, when two of our moſt accompliſhed Critics reſtored his poetical reputation.

Mr. Tyrwhitt, to whom Chaucer is as deeply indebted as a Poet can be to the judgment and erudition of his commentator, has given a ſketch of Boccacio's Theſeida, in his introductory diſcourſe to the Canterbury Tales; and Mr. Warton has enriched the firſt volume of his Hiſtory of Engliſh Poetry with a conſiderable ſpecimen of this very rare Italian Epic poem, of which our country is ſaid to poſſeſs but a ſingle copy.—The father of Boccacio was an Italian merchant, a native of Certaldo, near Florence, who in his travels attached himſelf to a young woman of Paris; and our Poet is ſuppoſed to have been the illegitimate offspring of that connection. He was born in 1313, and educated as a ſtudent of the canon law; but a ſight of Virgil's tomb, according to Filippo Villani, his moſt ancient Biographer, made him reſolve to re⯑linquiſh his more irkſome purſuits, and devote himſelf entirely to the Muſes. His life ſeems to have been divided between literature and love, as he was equally remarkable for an amorous diſpoſition, and a paſſionate attachment to ſtudy. His moſt celebrated miſtreſs was Mary of Arragon, the natural daughter of Robert, King of Naples, the gene⯑rous and enthuſiaſtic patron of Petrarch. To this lady, diſtinguiſhed by the name of The Fiammetta, Boccacio addreſſed his capital poem, the Theſeida; telling her, in an introductory letter, that it contained many alluſions to the particular circumſtances of their own ſecret attachment. In his latter days he retired to Certaldo, and died there in the year 1475, of a diſorder ſuppoſed to have ariſen from exceſſive application. Few authors have rendered more eſſential ſervice to the republic of let⯑ters than Boccacio, as he not only contributed very much to the improvement of his native language, but was particularly inſtrumental in promoting the revival of ancient learning: a merit which he ſhared with Petrarch. The tender and generous friendſhip which ſubſiſted between theſe two engaging authors, reflects the higheſt honour on both; and their letters to each other may be ranked among the moſt intereſting productions of that period. Boccacio compoſed, according [199] to Quadrio, no leſs than thirty-four volumes. His Novels are univer⯑ſally known: his Poetical Works are as follow: 1. La Theſeida in Ottava Rima. 2. L'Amoroſa Viſione in Terza Rima. 3. Il Filoſtrato in Ottava Rima. 4. Il Ninfale Fieſolano in Ottava Rima.—He piqued himſelf on being the firſt Poet who ſung of martial ſubjects in Italian verſe; and he has been generally ſuppoſed the inventor of the Ottava Rima, the common Heroic meaſure of the Italian Muſe; but Quadrio has ſhewn that it was uſed by preceding writers; and Paſquier, in his Recherches, has quoted two ſtanzas of Thibaud king of Navarre, writ⯑ten in the ſame meaſure, on Blanch queen of France, who died in 1252. The neglect into which the Poems of Boccacio had fallen ap⯑pears the more ſtriking, as he peculiarly prided himſelf on his poetical character; informing the world, by an inſcription on his tomb, that Poetry was his favourite purſuit—Studium fuit alma Poeſis, are the laſt words of the epitaph which he compoſed for himſelf.

Appendix A.3.6 NOTE VI. VERSE 142.

Giovanni Giorgio Triſſino was born of a noble family in Vicenza, 1478: he was particularly diſ⯑tinguiſhed by a paſſion for Poetry and Architecture; and one of the very few Poets who have been rich enough to build a palace. This he is ſaid to have done from a deſign of his own, under the direction of the cele⯑brated Palladio. He had the merit of writing the firſt regular tragedy in the Italian language, entitled Sophoniſba; but in his Epic poem he is generally allowed to have failed, though ſome learned Critics (and Gravina amongſt them) have endeavoured to ſupport the credit of that performance. His ſubject was the expulſion of the Goths from Italy by Beliſarius; and his poem conſiſts of twenty-ſeven books, in blank verſe. He addreſſed it to the Emperor Charles the Vth; and profeſſes in his Dedication to have taken Ariſtotle for his preceptor, and Homer for his guide.

The reader will excuſe a trifling anachroniſm, in my naming Triſſino before Arioſto, for poetical reaſons. The Italia Liberata of the former was firſt publiſhed in 1548; the Orlando Furioſo, in 1515. Triſſino died at Rome, 1550; Arioſto at Ferrara, 1533.

Appendix A.3.7 NOTE VII. VERSE 194.

The reputation of Torquato Taſſo has almoſt eclipſed that of his father Bernardo, who was himſelf a conſiderable Poet, and left two productions of the Epic kind, L'Amadigi, and Il Floridante: the latter remained unfiniſhed at his death, but was afterwards publiſhed in its imperfect ſtate by his ſon; who has ſpoken of his father's poetry with filial regard, in his different critical works. The Amadigi was written at the requeſt of ſeveral Spaniſh Grandees, in the court of Charles the Vth, and firſt printed in Venice by Giolito, 1560. The curious reader may find an entertaining account of the Author's ideas in compoſing this work, among his Letters, volume the firſt, page 198. I cannot help remarking, that the letter referred to contains a ſimile which Torquato has introduced in the opening of his Jeruſalem Delivered.

The Italians have formed a very pleaſing and valuable work, by col⯑lecting the letters of their eminent Painters; which contain much in⯑formation on points relating to their art. The letters of their Poets, if properly ſelected, might alſo form a few intereſting volumes: as a proof of this, I ſhall inſert a ſhort letter of the younger Taſſo, becauſe it ſeems to have eſcaped the notice of his Biographers, and relates the remarkable circumſtance of his having deliberated on five different ſubjects before he decided in favour of Goffredo: ‘Al M. Illuſtre Sig. Conte Ferrante Eſtenſe Taſſone.’

Io ho ſcritto queſta mattina a V. S. che io deſidero di far due Poemi a mio guſto; e ſebben per elezione non cambierei il ſoggetto che una volta preſi; nondimeno per ſoddisfar il ſignor principe gli do l' elezione di tutti queſti ſoggetti, i quali mi paijono ſovra gli altri atti a ricever la forma eroica.

Eſpedizion di Goffredo, e degli altri principi contra gl' Infedeli, e ritorno. Dove avrò occaſione di lodar le famiglie d' Europa, che io vorrò.

This letter is the more worthy of notice, as the ſubject on which Taſſo fixed has been called by Voltaire, and perhaps very juſtly, Le plus grand qu'on ait jamais choiſi. Le Taſſe l'a [...]traité dignement, adds the lively Critic, with unuſual candour; yet in his ſubſequent remarks he is peculiarly ſevere on the magic of the Italian Poet. The merits of Taſſo are very ably defended againſt the injuſtice of French criticiſm, and particularly that of Boileau and Voltaire, in the well-known Letters on Chivalry and Romance. Indeed the genius of this injured Poet ſeems at length to triumph in the country where he was moſt inſulted, as the French have lately attempted a poetical verſion of his Jeruſalem.

I enter not into the hiſtory of Taſſo, or that of his rival Arioſto, becauſe the public has lately received from Mr. Hoole a judicious ac⯑count of their lives, prefixed to his elegant verſions of their reſpective Poems.

Appendix A.3.8 NOTE VIII. VERSE 197.

Aleſſandro Taſſoni, the ſuppoſed inventor of the modern Heroi-comic Poetry, was born at Modena, 1565. His family was noble; but his parents dying during his infancy, left him expoſed to vexatious law-ſuits, which abſorbed a great part of his patrimony, and rendered him dependant. In 1599 he was engaged as Secretary to Cardinal Aſcanio Colonna, whom he at⯑tended on an embaſſy into Spain. He was occaſionally diſpatched into Italy on the ſervice of that Prelate, and in the courſe of one of theſe ex⯑peditions wrote his Obſervations on Petrarch. In 1605 he is ſuppoſed [202] to have quitted the ſervice of the Cardinal, and to have lived in a ſtate of freedom at Rome, where, in 1607, he became the chief of a literary ſociety, entitled Academia degli Umoriſti. He was afterwards em⯑ployed in the ſervice of Charles Emanuel, Duke of Savoy; which, after ſuffering many vexations in it, he quitted with a deſign of devoting himſelf to ſtudy and retirement. But this deſign he was induced to re⯑linquiſh, and to ſerve the Cardinal Lodoviſio, nephew of Pope Gregory XV. from whom he received a conſiderable ſtipend. On the death of this patron, in 1632, he was recalled to his native city by Francis the Firſt, Duke of Modena, and obtained an honourable eſta⯑bliſhment in the court of that Prince. Age had now rendered him unable to enjoy his good fortune: his health declined in the year of his return, and he expired in April 1635. His genius was particularly diſ⯑poſed to lively ſatire; and the incidents of his life had a tendency to increaſe that diſpoſition. After having paſſed many vexatious and un⯑profitable years in the ſervice of the Great, he had his portrait painted, with a fig in his hand; and Muratori ſuppoſes him to have written theſe two lines on the occaſion:

His celebrated Poem, La Secchia rapita, was written, as he has him⯑ſelf declared, in 1611; begun in April, and finiſhed in October. It was circulated in MS. received with the utmoſt avidity, and firſt printed at Paris 1622. In a catalogue of the numerous editions of the Secchia, which Muratori has prefixed to his Life of Taſſoni, he includes an Engliſh tranſlation of it, printed 1715.

Appendix A.3.9 NOTE IX. VERSE 209.

The famous Lope de Vega, frequently called the Shakeſpear of Spain, is perhaps the moſt fertile Poet in the annals of Parnaſſus; and it would be difficult to name any author, ancient or modern, ſo univerſally idolized while living by all ranks of people, and ſo magnificently rewarded by the liberality of the Great. He was the ſon of Felix de Vega and Franciſca Fernandez, [203] who were both deſcended from honourable families, and lived in the neighbourhood of Madrid. Our Poet was born in that city, on the 25th of November 1562. He was, according to his own expreſſion, a Poet from his cradle; and, beginning to make verſes before he had learned to write, he uſed to bribe his elder ſcholl-fellows with a part of his breakfaſt, to commit to paper the lines he had compoſed. Having loſt his father while he was ſtill a child, he engaged in a frolic, very natural to a lively boy, and wandered with another lad to various parts of Spain, till, having ſpent their money, and being conducted before a magiſtrate at Segovia, for offering to ſell a few trinkets, they were ſent home again to Madrid. Soon after this adventure, our young Poet was taken under the protection of Geronimo Manrique, Biſhop of Avila, and began to diſtinguiſh himſelf by his dramatic compoſitions, which were received with great applauſe by the public, though their author had not yet completed his education; for, after this period, he became a member of the univerſity of Alcala, where he devoted himſelf for four years to the ſtudy of philoſophy. He was then engaged as Secretary to the Duke of Alva, and wrote his Arcadia in compliment to that patron; who is frequently mentioned in his Occaſional Poems. He quitted that em⯑ployment on his marriage with Iſabel de Urbina, a lady (ſays his friend and biographer Perez de Montalvan) beautiful without artifice, and vir⯑tuous without affectation. His domeſtic happineſs was ſoon interrupted by a painful incident:—Having written ſome lively verſes in ridicule of a perſon who had taken ſome injurious freedom with his character, he re⯑ceived a challenge in conſequence of his wit; and happening, in the duel which enſued, to give his adverſary a dangerous wound, he was obliged to fly from his family, and ſhelter himſelf in Valencia. He re⯑ſided there a conſiderable time; but connubial affection recalled him to Madrid. His wife died in the year of his return. His affliction on this event led him to relinquiſh his favourite ſtudies, and embark on board the Armada which was then preparing for the invaſion of England. He had a brother who ſerved in that fleet as a lieutenant; and being ſhot in an engagement with ſome Dutch veſſels, his virtues were cele⯑brated by our afflicted Poet, whoſe heart was peculiarly alive to every generous affection. After the ill ſucceſs of the Armada, the diſconſolate Lope de Vega returned to Madrid, and became Secretary to the Marquis [204] of Malpica, to whom he has addreſſed a grateful Sonnet. From the ſervice of this Patron he paſſed into the houſehold of the Count of Lemos, whom he celebrates as an inimitable Poet. He was once more induced to quit his attendance on the Great, for the more inviting com⯑forts of a married life. His ſecond choice was Juana de Guardio, of noble birth and ſingular beauty. By this lady he had two children; a ſon, who died in his infancy, and a daughter, named Feliciana, who ſurvived her father. The death of his little boy is ſaid to have haſ⯑tened that of his wife, whom he had the misfortune to loſe in about ſeven years after his marriage. Having now experienced the precari⯑ouſneſs of all human enjoyments, he devoted himſelf to a religious life, and fulfilled all the duties of it with the moſt exemplary piety; ſtill continuing to produce an aſtoniſhing variety of poetical compoſitions. His talents and his virtues procured him many unſolicited honours. Pope Urban the VIIIth ſent him the Croſs of Malta, with the title of Doctor in Divinity, and appointed him to a place of profit in the Apoſtolic Chamber; favours for which he expreſſed his gratitude by dedicating his Corona Tragica (a long poem on the fate of Mary Queen of Scots) to that liberal Pontiff. In his ſeventy-third year he felt the approaches of death, and prepared himſelf for it with the ut⯑moſt compoſure and devotion. His laſt hours were attended by many of his intimate friends, and particularly his chief patron the Duke of Seſſa, whom he made his executor; leaving him the care of his daughter Feliciana, and of his various manuſcripts. The manner in which he took leave of thoſe he loved was moſt tender and affecting. He ſaid to his Diſciple and Biographer, Montalvan, That true fame conſiſted in being good; and that he would willingly exchange all the applauſes he had received, to add a ſingle deed of virtue to the actions of his life. Having given his dying benediction to his daughter, and performed the laſt ceremonies of his religion, he expired on the 25th of Auguſt 1635.

The ſplendor of his funeral was equal to the reſpect paid to him while living.—His magnificent patron, the Duke of Seſſa, invited the chief no⯑bility of the kingdom to attend it. The ceremony was prolonged through the courſe of ſeveral days; and three ſermons in honour of the deceaſed were delivered by three of the moſt celebrated preachers. Theſe [205] are printed with the works of the Poet, and may be conſidered as curious ſpecimens of the falſe eloquence which prevailed at that time. A vo⯑lume of encomiaſtic verſes, chiefly Spaniſh, and written by more than a hundred and fifty of the moſt diſtinguiſhed characters in Spain, was pub⯑liſhed ſoon after the death of this lamented Bard. To this collection his friend and diſciple Perez de Montalvan prefixed a circumſtantial ac⯑count of his life and death, which I have chiefly followed in the pre⯑ceding narrative. An ingenious Traveller, who has lately publiſhed a pleaſing volume of Letters on the Poetry of Spain, has imputed the duel in which Lope de Vega was engaged to the gallantries of his firſt wife; but Montalvan's relation of that adventure clears the honor of the lady, whoſe innocence is ſtill farther ſupported by a poem written in her praiſe by Pedro de Medina Medinilla: it is printed in the works of our Poet, who is introduced in it, under the name of Belardo, celebrating the ex⯑cellencies and lamenting the loſs of his departed Iſabel.

Of the perſon and manners of Lope de Vega, his friend Montalvan has only given this general account:—that his frame of body was parti⯑cularly ſtrong, and preſerved by temperance in continued health;—that in converſation he was mild and unaſſuming; courteous to all, and to women peculiarly gallant;—very eager when engaged in the buſineſs of his friends, and ſomewhat careleſs in the management of his own. Of his wealth and charity I ſhall have occaſion to ſpeak in a ſubſequent note. The chief expences in which he indulged himſelf were books and pictures; of the latter, he diſtributed a few as legacies to his intimate friends: to the Duke of Seſſa, a fine portrait of himſelf; and to me, ſays Montalvan, another, painted when he was young, ſurrounded by dogs, monkies, and other monſters, and writing in the midſt of them, without attending to their noiſe.—Of the honours paid to this extraor⯑dinary Poet, his Biographer aſſerts that no perſon of eminence viſited Spain without ſeeking his perſonal acquaintance; that men yielded him precedence when they met him in the ſtreets, and women ſaluted him with benedictions when he paſſed under their windows. If ſuch ho⯑mage can be deſerved by the moſt unwearied application to poetry, Lope de Vega was certainly entitled to it. He declared that he con⯑ſtantly wrote five ſheets a day; and his biographers, who have formed a calculation from this account, conclude the number of his verſes to be [206] no leſs than 21,316,000. His country has very lately publiſhed an ele⯑gant edition of his poems in 19 quarto volumes; his dramatic works are to be added to this collection, and will probably be ſtill more volumi⯑nous. I ſhall ſpeak only of the former.—Among his poems there are ſeveral of the Epic kind; the three following appear to me the moſt remarkable. 1. La Dragontea. 2. La Hermoſura de Angelica. 3. La Jeruſalem Conquiſtada. The Dragontea conſiſts of ten cantos, on the laſt expedition and death of our great naval hero Sir Francis Drake, whom the Poet, from his exceſſive partiality to his country, conſiders as an ava⯑ricious pirate, or rather, as he chuſes to call him, a marine Dragon: and it may be ſufficient to obſerve that he has treated him accordingly. The poem on Angelica ſeems to have been written in emulation of Arioſto, and it is founded on a hint in that Poet: it was compoſed in the early part of our Author's life, and contains many compliments to his ſove⯑reign Philip the IId: it conſiſts of 20 cantos, and cloſes with Angeli⯑ca's being reſtored to her beloved Medoro. In his Jeruſalem Conquiſtada he enters the liſts with Taſſo, whom he mentions in his preface as hav⯑ing ſung the firſt part of the hiſtory which he had choſen for his ſubject. From the great name of Lope de Vega, I had ſome thoughts of preſent⯑ing to the reader a ſketch of this his moſt remarkable poem; but as an Epic Poet he appears to me ſo much inferior to Taſſo, and to his coun⯑tryman and cotemporary Ercilla, that I am unwilling to ſwell theſe extenſive notes by an enlarged deſcription of ſo unſucceſsful a work: the Author has propheſied in the cloſe of it, that, although neglected by his own age, it would be eſteemed by futurity:—a ſingular proof that even the moſt favoured writers are frequently diſpoſed to declaim againſt the period in which they live. If Lope de Vega could think himſelf neglected, what Poet may ever expect to be ſatisfied with popu⯑lar applauſe?—But to return to his Jeruſalem Conquiſtada. Richard the Second of England, and Alphonſo the Eighth of Caſtile, are the chief heroes of the poem; which contains twenty cantos; and cloſes with the unfortunate return of theſe confederate Kings, and the death of Saladin. It was firſt printed 1609, more than twenty years after the firſt appear⯑ance of Taſſo's Jeruſalem.—One of the moſt amiable peculiarities in the character of Lope de Vega, is the extreme liberality with which he commends the merit of his rivals. In his Laurel de Apollo, he cele⯑brates [207] all the eminent Spaniſh and Portugueze Poets; he ſpeaks both of Camoens and Ercilla with the warmeſt applauſe. Among the moſt pleaſ⯑ing paſſages in this poem is a compliment which he pays to his father, who was, like the father of Taſſo, a Poet of conſiderable talents.

Among the ſmaller pieces of Lope de Vega, there are two particularly curious; a deſcriptive poem on the garden of his patron the Duke of Alva, and a ſonnet in honour of the Invincible Armada: the latter may be conſidered as a complete model of Spaniſh bombaſt: "Go forth and burn the world," ſays the Poet, addreſſing himſelf to that mighty fleet; "my ſighs will furniſh your fails with a never-failing wind; and my breaſt will ſupply your cannon with inexhauſtible fire."—Perhaps this may be equalled by a Spaniſh character of our Poet, with which I ſhall cloſe my imperfect account of him. It is his friend and biogra⯑pher Montalvan, who, in the opening of his life, beſtows on him the following titles: El Doctor Frey Lope Felix de Vega Carpio, Portento del Orbe, Gloria de la Nacion, Luſtre de la Patria, Oracula de la Len⯑gua, Centro de la Fama, Aſſumpio de la Invidia, Cuydado de la Fortuna, Fenix de los Siglos, Principe de los Verſos, Orfeo de las Ciencias, Apolo de las Muſas, Horacio de los Poetas, Virgilio de los Epicos, Homero de los Heroycos, Pindaro de los Lyricos, Sofocles de los Tra⯑gicos, y Terencio de los Comicos, Unico entre los Mayores, Mayor entre los Grandes, y Grande a todas Luzes, y en todas Materias.

Appendix A.3.10 NOTE X. VERSE 239.

Don Alonzo de Ercilla y Zuniga was equally diſtinguiſhed as a Hero and a Poet; but this exalted character, notwithſtanding his double claim to our regard, is almoſt to⯑tally unknown in our country, and I ſhall therefore endeavour to give the Engliſh reader the beſt idea that I can, both of his gallant life, and of his ſingular poem.—He was born in Madrid, on the 7th of Auguſt 1533, the third ſon of Fortun Garcia de Ercilla, who, though deſcended from a noble family, purſued the profeſſion of the law, and was ſo remarkable for his talents, that he acquired the appellation of "The ſubtle Spaniard." The mother of our Poet was alſo noble, and from her he inherited his [208] ſecond title, Zuniga: Ercilla was the name of an ancient caſtle in Biſcay, which had been long in the poſſeſſion of his paternal anceſtors. He loſt his father while he was yet an infant, a circumſtance which had, great influence on his future life; for his mother was received, after the de⯑ceaſe of her huſband, into the houſehold of the Empreſs, Iſabella, the wife of Charles the Vth, and had thus an early opportunity of introducing our young Alonzo into the palace. He ſoon obtained an appointment there, in the character of page to the Infant Don Philip, to whoſe ſervice he devoted himſelf with the moſt heroic enthuſiaſm, though Philip was a maſter who little deſerved ſo generous an attachment. At the age of fourteen, he attended that Prince in the ſplendid progreſs which he made, at the deſire of his Imperial father, through the principal cities of the Netherlands, and through parts of Italy and Germany. This ſingular expedition is very circumſtantially recorded in a folio volume, by a Spa⯑niſh hiſtorian named Juan Chriſtoval Calvete de Eſtrella, whoſe work affords a very curious and ſtriking picture of the manners and ceremonies of that martial and romantic age. All the cities which were viſited by the Prince contended with each other in magnificent feſtivity: the bril⯑liant ſeries of literary and warlike pageants which they exhibited, though they anſwered not their deſign of conciliating the affection of the ſullen Philip, might probably awaken the genius of our youthful Poet, and excite his ambition to acquire both poetical and military fame. In 1551, he returned with the Prince into Spain, and continued there for three years; at the end of which he attended his royal maſter to England on his marriage with Queen Mary, which was celebrated at Wincheſter in the ſummer of 1554. At this period Ercilla firſt aſſumed the military character; for his ſovereign received advice, during his reſidence at Lon⯑don, that the martial natives of Aranco, a diſtrict on the coaſt of Chile, had revolted from the Spaniſh government, and diſpatched an experienced officer, named Alderete, who attended him in England, to ſubdue the inſurrection, inveſting him with the command of the rebellious pro⯑vince. Ercilla embarked with Alderete; but that officer dying in his paſſage, our Poet proceeded to Lima. Don Hurtado de Mendoza, who commanded there as Viceroy of Peru, appointed his ſon Don Garcia to ſupply the place of Alderete, and ſent him with a conſiderable force to oppoſe the Arancanians. Ercilla was engaged in this enterprize, and [209] greatly diſtinguiſhed himſelf in the obſtinate conteſt which enſued. The noble character of the Barbarians who maintained this unequal ſtruggle, and the many ſplendid feats of valour which this ſcene afforded, led our author to the ſingular deſign of making the war, in which he was himſelf engaged, the ſubject of an Heroic poem; which he entitled "La Araucana," from the name of the country. As many of his own par⯑ticular adventures may be found in the following ſummary of his work, I ſhall not here enlarge on his military exploits; but proceed to one of the moſt mortifying events of his life; which he briefly mentions in the concluſion of his poem. After paſſing with great honour through many and various perils, he was on the point of ſuffering a diſgraceful death, from the raſh orders of his young and inconſiderate Commander. On his return from an expedition of adventure and diſcovery, to the Spaniſh city of Imperial, he was preſent at a ſcene of public feſtivity diſplayed there, to celebrate the acceſſion of Philip the IId to the crown of Spain; at a kind of tournament, there aroſe an idle diſpute between Ercilla and Don Juan de Pineda, in the heat of which the two diſputants drew their ſwords; many of the ſpectators joined in the broil; and, a report ariſing that the quarrel was a mere pretence, to conceal ſome mu⯑tinous deſign, the haſty Don Garcia, their General, committed the two antagoniſts to priſon, and ſentenced them both to be publicly beheaded. Ercilla himſelf declares, he was conducted to the ſcaffold before his pre⯑cipitate judge diſcovered the iniquity of the ſentence; but his innocence appeared juſt time enough to ſave him; and he ſeems to have been fully reinſtated in the good opinion of Don Garcia, as, among the com⯑plimentary ſonnets addreſſed to Ercilla, there is one which bears the name of his General, in which he ſtyles him the Divine Alonzo, and cele⯑brates both his military and poetical genius. But Ercilla ſeems to have been deeply wounded by this affront; for, quitting Chile, he went to Callao, the port of Lima, and there embarked on an expedition againſt a Spaniſh rebel, named Lope de Aguirre, who, having murdered his captain, and uſurped the chief power, was perpetrating the moſt cruel enormities in the ſettlement of Venezuela. But Ercilla learned, on his arrival at Panama, that this barbarous uſurper was deſtroyed; he therefore reſolved, as his health was much impaired by the hard⯑ſhips he had paſſed, to return to Spain. He arrived there in the twenty-ninth [210] ninth year of his age; but ſoon left it, and travelled, as he himſelf in⯑forms us, through France, Italy, Germany, Sileſia, Moravia, and Pan⯑nonia; but the particulars of this expedition are unknown. In the year 1570 he appeared again at Madrid, and was married to Maria Bazan, a lady whom he contrives to celebrate in the courſe of his military poem. He is ſaid to have been afterwards gentleman of the bed-chamber to the Emperor Rodolph the IId, a prince who had been educated at Madrid; but the connection of our Poet with this Monarch is very in⯑diſtinctly recorded; and indeed all the latter part of his life is little known. In the year 1580 he reſided at Madrid, in a ſtate of retirement and poverty. The time and circumſtances of his death are uncertain: it is proved that he was living in the year 1596, by the evidence of a Spaniſh writer named Moſquera, who, in a treatiſe of military diſcipline, ſpeaks of Ercilla as engaged at that time in celebrating the victories of Don Alvaro Bazan, Marques de Santa Cruz, in a poem which has ne⯑ver appeared, and is ſuppoſed to have been left imperfect at his death. Some anecdotes related of our Poet afford us ground to hope that his various merits ware not entirely unrewarded. It is ſaid, that in ſpeak⯑ing to his ſovereign Philip, he was ſo overwhelmed by diffidence that language failed him: "Don Alonzo! (replied the King) ſpeak to me in writing."—He did ſo, and obtained his requeſt. The Spaniſh Hiſ⯑torian Ovalle, who has written an account of Chile, in which he fre⯑quently ſupports his narration by the authority of Ercilla, affirms that our Poet preſented his work to Philip with his own hand, and received a recompence from the King. But in this circumſtance I fear the Hiſ⯑torian was miſtaken, as he ſuppoſes it to have happened on the return of Ercilla from Chile; and our Poet, in a diſtinct portion of his work, which was not publiſhed till many years after that period, expreſsly de⯑clares, in addreſſing himſelf to Philip, that all his attempts to ſerve him had been utterly unrequited. Ercilla left no legitimate family; but had ſome natural children, the moſt eminent of which was a daugh⯑ter, who was advantageouſly married to a nobleman of Portugal.

In that elegant collection of Spaniſh Poets, "Parnaſo Eſpan̄ol," there is a pleaſing little amorous poem, written by Ercilla in his youth, which is peculiarly commended by Lope de Vega; who has beſtowed a very ge⯑nerous encomium on our Poet, in his "Laurel de Apolo." But the great [211] and ſingular work which has juſtly rendered Ercilla immortal, is his Poem entitled Araucana, which was publiſhed in three ſeparate parts: the firſt appeared in 1577; he added the ſecond in the ſucceeding year; and in 1590 he printed a complete edition of the whole. It was applauded by the moſt eminent writers of Spain; and Cervantes, in ſpeaking of Don Quixote's Library, has ranked it among the choiceſt treaſures of the Caſtilian Muſe. Voltaire, who ſpeaks of Ercilla with his uſual ſpirit and inaccuracy, has the merit of having made our Poet more gene⯑rally known, though his own acquaintance with him appears to have been extremely ſlight; for he affirms that Ercilla was in the battle of Saint Quintin: a miſtake into which he never could have fallen, had he read the Araucana. Indeed the undiſtinguiſhing cenſure which he paſſes on the poem in general, after commending one particular paſſage, ſuffi⯑ciently proves him a perfect ſtranger to many ſubſequent parts of the work; yet his remark on the inequality of the Poet is juſt. Ercilla is certainly unequal; but, with all his defects, he appears to me one of the moſt extraordinary and engaging characters in the poetical world. Per⯑haps I am a little partial to him, from the accidental circumſtance of having firſt read his poem with a departed friend, whoſe opinions are very dear to me, and who was particularly fond of this military Bard. However this may be, my idea of Ercilla's merit has led me to hazard the following extenſive ſketch of his Work: — it has ſwelled to a much larger ſize than I at firſt intended; for I was continually tempted to ex⯑tend it, by the deſire of not injuring the peculiar excellencies of this wonderful Poet. If I have not utterly failed in that deſire, the Engliſh reader will be enabled to judge, and to enjoy an author, who, conſidering his ſubject and its execution, may be ſaid to ſtand ſingle and unparal⯑leled in the hoſt of Poets. His beauties and his defects are of ſo ob⯑vious a nature, that I ſhall not enlarge upon them; but let it be re⯑membered, that his poem was compoſed amidſt the toils and perils of the moſt fatiguing and hazardous ſervice, and that his verſes were ſome⯑times written on ſcraps of leather, from the want of better materials. His ſtyle is remarkably pure and perſpicuous, and, notwithſtanding the reſtraint of rhyme, it has frequently all the eaſe, the ſpirit, and the volu⯑bility of Homer. I wiſh not, however, to conceal his defects; and I have therefore given a very fair account of the ſtrange epiſode he intro⯑duces [212] concerning the hiſtory of Dido, which has juſtly fallen under the ridicule of Voltaire. I muſt however obſerve, as an apology for Ercilla, that many Bards of his country have conſidered it as a point of honour to defend the reputation of this injured lady, and to attack Virgil with a kind of poetical Quixotiſm for having ſlandered the chaſtity of ſo ſpotleſs a heroine. If my memory does not deceive me, both Lope de Vega and Quevedo have employed their pens as the champions of Dido. We may indeed very readily join the laugh of the lively Frenchman [213] againſt our Poet on this occaſion; but let us recollect that Ercilla has infinitely more Homeric ſpirit, and that his poem contains more genuine Epic beauties, than can be found in Voltaire.

Ercilla has been honoured with many poetical encomiums by the writers of his own country; and, as I believe the moſt elegant compli⯑ment which has been paid to his genius is the production of a Spaniſh lady, I ſhall cloſe this account of him with a tranſlation of the Sonnet, in which ſhe celebrates both the Hero and the Poet.

Appendix A.3.11 NOTE XI. VERSE 280.

The Epic powers of Camoens have received their due honour in our language, by the elegant and ſpirited tranſlation of Mr. Mickle; but our country is ſtill a ſtranger to the lighter graces and pathetic ſweetneſs of his ſhorter com⯑poſitions. Theſe, as they are illuſtrated by the Spaniſh notes of his indefatigable Commentator, Manuel de Faria, amount to two volumes in folio. I ſhall preſent the reader with a ſpecimen of his Sonnets, for which he is celebrated as the rival of Petrarch. Of the three tranſ⯑lations which follow, I am indebted for the two firſt to an ingenious friend, from whom the public may wiſh me to have received more ex⯑tenſive obligations of a ſimilar nature. It may be proper to add, that the firſt Sonnet of Camoens, like that of Petrarch, is a kind of preface to the amorous poetry of its author.

[276]The Spaniſh Commentator of Camoens conſiders this viſion as the moſt exquiſite Sonnet of his author, and affirms that it is ſuperior to the much longer poem of Petrarch's, on a ſimilar idea. It may amuſe a cu⯑rious reader to compare both Camoens and Petrarch, on this occaſion, with Milton, who has alſo written a Sonnet on the ſame ſubject. The Commentator Faria has a very pleaſant remark on this ſpecies of compo⯑ſition. He vindicates the dignity of the amorous Sonnet, by producing an alphabetical liſt of two hundred great Poets, who have thus compli⯑mented the object of their affection; and he very gravely introduces Achilles as the leader of this choir, for having celebrated Briſeis. If the Sonnets of the Portugueze Poet are worthy of attention, his Elegies are perhaps ſtill more ſo, as they illuſtrate many particulars of his intereſt⯑ing life, which ended in 1579, under the moſt cruel circumſtances of neglect and poverty.

Portugal has produced no leſs than fourteen Epic poems; twelve in [277] her own language, and two in that of Spain. At the head of theſe ſtands the Luſiad of Camoens. The Malaca Conquiſtada of Franciſco de Sa' de Meneſis—and the Ulyſſea, or Liſboa Edificada, of Gabriel Pereira de Caſtro, are two of the moſt eminent among its ſucceſſors.— For a liſt of the Portugueze Epic Poets, and for an elegant copy of the Malaca Conquiſtada, I am indebted to the very liberal politeneſs of the Chevalier de Pinto, the Ambaſſador of Portugal.

Appendix A.3.12 NOTE XII. VERSE 287.

Though a vain inſipidity may be conſidered as the general characteriſtic of the French Eloges, it is but juſt to remark, that ſeveral of theſe performances are an honour to the country which produced them; and particularly the little volume of Eloges lately publiſhed by Mr. D'Alembert. This agreeable Encomiaſt [278] has varied and enlivened the tone of panegyric by the moſt happy mix⯑ture of amuſing anecdote, judicious criticiſm, and philoſophical precept: we may juſtly ſay of him, what he himſelf has ſaid of his predeceſſor Fon⯑tenelle: Il a ſolidement aſſuré ſa gloire .... par ces Eloges ſi intereſſans, pleins d'une raiſon ſi fine et ſi profonde, qui font aimer et reſpecter les lettres, qui inſpirent aux génies naiſſans la plus noble emulation, et qui feront paſſer le nom de l'auteur à la poſterité, avec celui de la compagnie célebre dont il a été le digne organe, et des grands hommes dont il s'eſt rendu l'egal en devenant leur panégyriſte.

Appendix A.3.13 NOTE XIII. VERSE 302.

Before the appearance of Boſſu's celebrated treatiſe on Epic poetry, the French had a ſimilar work written in Latin. The learned Jeſuit Mambrun publiſhed, in 1652, a quarto volume, entitled, Diſſertatio Peripatetica de Epico Carmine. His Diſſertation is founded on the principles of Ariſtotle, whom he conſiders as infallible authority; and he introduces the Greek Philoſopher to de⯑cide the following very curious queſtion, which he argues with becom⯑ing gravity, Whether the action of a woman can be ſufficiently ſplendid to prove a proper ſubject for an Epic poem.—Having reaſoned on this delicate point, with more learning than gallantry, he thus concludes the debate: Congruenter magis finem huic quaeſtioni ponere non licet, quam verbis Ariſtotelis capite 15 Poeticae, ubi de moribus diſputat, [...];—id eſt, ſecunda proprietas morum eſt, ut ſint congruen⯑tes, ut eſſe fortem mos eſt aliquis; at non congruit mulieri fortem eſſe aut terribilem ut vertit Riccobonus, vel prudentem ut Pacius. The latter interpretation of the word [...] would render the deciſion of theſe Phi⯑loſophers very ſevere indeed on the Female character, by ſuppoſing it in⯑capable of diſplaying both fortitude and prudence.—The Fair Sex have found an advocate, on this occaſion, in a French Epic Poet. The famous Chapelain, in the preface to his unfortunate Pucelle, has very warmly attacked theſe ungallant maxims of Mambrun and Ariſtotle. In ſpeak⯑ing of certain critics, who had cenſured the choice of his ſubject, before the publication of his poem, he ſays, Ceux-cy, jurant ſur le texte d'A⯑riſtote, [279] maintiennent que la femme eſt une erreur de la nature, qui ayant toujours intention de faire un homme, s'arreſte ſouvent en chemin, et ſe voit contrainte, par la reſiſtance de la matiere, de laiſſer ſon deſſein im⯑parfait. Ils tienne [...]t la force corporelle tellement neceſſaire, dans la compoſition d'un heros, que quand il n'y auroit autre defaut à reprocher à la femme, ils luy en refuſeroient le nom, pour cela ſeulement, qu'elle n'a pas la vigueur d'un Athlete, et que la molleſſe de ſa complexion l'em⯑peſche de pouvoir durer au travail. Ils n'eſtiment ce Sexe capable d'au⯑cune penſée heroique, dans la creance que l'eſprit ſuit le temperament du corps, et que, dans le corps de la femme, l'eſprit ne peut rien conce⯑voir, qui ne ſe ſente de ſa foibleſſe. — Ces Meſſieurs me pardon⯑neront, toutefois, ſi je leur dis qu'ils ne conſiderent pas trop bien quelle eſt la nature de la vertu heroique, qu'ils en definiſſent l'eſſence, par un de ſes moindres accidens, et qu'ils en font plutoſt une vertu brutale, qu'une vertu divine.— Ils ſe devroient ſouvenir que cette vertu n'a preſque rien à faire avec le corps, et qu'elle conſiſte, non dans les efforts d'un Milon de Crotone, où l'eſprit n'a aucune part, mais en ceux des ames nées pour les grandes choſes; quand par une ardeur pluſqu' hu⯑maine, elles s'elevent audeſſus d'elles-meſmes; qu'elles forment quelque deſſein, dont l'utilité eſt auſſi grande que la difficulté, et qu'elles choi⯑ſiſſent les moyens de l'executer avec conſtance et hauteur de courage. Pour prevenus qu'ils ſoient en faveurs des hommes, je ne penſe pas qu'ils vouluſſent attribuer à leur ame un ſeul avantage, auquel l'ame de la femme ne puſt aſpirer, ni faire deux eſpeces des deux ſexes, deſquels la raiſon de tous les ſages n'a fait qu'une juſqu'icy—je ne croy pas non plus qu'ils imaginent que les vertus morales ayent leur ſiege ailleurs, que dans la volonté, ou dans l'entendement. Mais ſi elles y ont leur ſiege, et ſi l'on ne peut dire que ces deux facultés ſoient autres, dans l'ame de la femme que dans l'ame de l'homme, ils ne peuvent, ſans abſurdité, accorder une de ces vertus à l' homme, et ne l' accorder pas à la femme. En effet, cette belle penſée d'Ariſtote qui a donné occaſion à leur erreur, eſt ſi peu phyſique, qu'elle fait plus de tort à la philoſophie du Lycée, qu'elle n'appuye l'opinion de ceux que nous combattons." Chapelain then enters into an hiſtorical defence of Female dignity, and oppoſes the authority of Plato to that of Ariſtotle, concerning the propriety of woman's ever appearing on the great theatre of active life. Happy had he ſup⯑ported [280] the Female cauſe as forcibly, in the execution of his poem, as in the arguments of his preface: but Chapelain was unfortunately one of the many examples, which every country affords, that the moſt perfect union of virtue and erudition is utterly inſufficient to form a Poet; and, as he had the ill fate to be perſecuted by the pitileſs rigour of Boileau, his inharmonious poem can never ſink into a deſirable oblivion. The treatiſe of Mambrun ſeems to have excited, among the French, an eager⯑neſs to diſtinguiſh themſelves in the field of Epic poetry; for ſeveral Epic poems were publiſhed in France in a few years after that work appeared; but moſt of them, and particularly thoſe on ſcriptural ſub⯑jects, were hardly ever known to exiſt.

The Alaric of Scudery, and the Clovis of Deſmareſts, can ſcarce be reckoned more fortunate; but in this band of unſucceſsful Epic writers, there was one Poet, of whom even the ſevere Boileau could not allow himſelf to ſpeak ill; this was Le Moine, the author of St. Louis. The Satiriſt being aſked, why he had never mentioned the poetry of Le Moine? replied with the two following verſes, parodied from Corneille,

The judicious and candid Heyne has beſtowed conſiderable applauſe on Le Moine, in one of his notes to the 6th book of Virgil, where he examines the different methods by which the Epic Poets have introduced their various pictures of futurity. From his account, Le Moine excels in this article. I can ſpeak only from the opinion of this learned Critic, for the neglected French Poet is become ſo rare, that I have ſought in vain for a copy of his work.—The number of obſcure Epic writers in France is very trifling, compared to thoſe which Italy has produced; the Italians have been indefatigable in this ſpecies of compoſition, and, as if they had reſolved to leave no Hero unſung, their celebrated Noveliſt, Giraldi [281] Cinthio has written an Epic poem, in twenty-ſix cantos, on the ex⯑ploits of Hercules.

Appendix A.3.14 NOTE XIV. VERSE 304.

Nicolas Boileau Deſ⯑preaux was born in or near Paris, for it is a conteſted point, on the firſt of November 1636, and died in March 1711 of a dropſy, the very diſ⯑eaſe which terminated the life of his Engliſh rival. The Lutrin of Boileau, ſtill conſidered by ſome French Critics of the preſent time as the beſt poem to which France has given birth, was firſt publiſhed in 1674. It is with great reaſon and juſtice that Voltaire confeſſes the Lutrin inferior to the Rape of the Lock. Few Poets can be ſo properly compared as Pope and Boileau; and, wherever their writings will admit of compariſon, we may, without any national partiality, adjudge the ſuperiority to the Engliſh Bard. Theſe two great authors reſembled each other as much in the integrity of their lives, as in the ſubjects and execution of their ſeveral compoſitions. There are two actions recorded of Boileau, which ſufficiently prove that the inexorable Satiriſt had a moſt generous and friendly heart; when Patru, the celebrated Advocate, who was ruined by his paſſion for literature, found himſelf under the painful neceſſity of ſelling his expenſive library, and had almoſt agreed to part with it for a moderate ſum, Boileau gave him a much ſuperior price; and, after paying the money, added this condition to the pur⯑chaſe, that Patru ſhould retain, during his life, the poſſeſſion of the books. The ſucceeding inſtance of the Poet's generoſity is yet nobler:— when it was rumoured at court that the King intended to retrench the penſion of Corneille, Boileau haſtened to Madame de Monteſpan, and ſaid, that his Sovereign, equitable as he was, could not, without injuſ⯑tice, grant a penſion to an author like himſelf, juſt aſcending Parnaſſus, and take it from Corneille, who had ſo long been ſeated on the ſummit; that he entreated her, for the honour of the King, to prevail on his Ma⯑jeſty rather to ſtrike off his penſion, than to withdraw that reward from a man whoſe title to it was incomparably greater; and that he ſhould more eaſily conſole himſelf under the loſs of that diſtinction, than un⯑der the affliction of ſeeing it taken away from ſuch a Poet as Corneille. This magnanimous application had the ſucceſs which it deſerved, and it [282] appears the more noble, when we recollect that the rival of Corneille was the intimate friend of Boileau.

The long and unreſerved intercourſe which ſubſiſted between our Poet and Racine was highly beneficial and honourable to both. The dying farewell of the latter is the moſt expreſſive eulogy on the private character of Boileau: Je regarde comme un bonheur pour moi de mourir avant vous, ſaid the tender Racine, in taking a final leave of his faithful and generous friend.

Appendix A.3.15 NOTE XV. VERSE 313.

This elegant and ami⯑able writer was born at Amiens, and educated in the ſociety of the Je⯑ſuits, to whom he has paid a grateful compliment in bidding them adieu. At the age of twenty-ſix he publiſhed his Ver-vert, a poem in four cantos, which commemorates

Voltaire has ſpoken invidiouſly of this delightful performance; but a ſpirited French Critic has very juſtly vindicated the merits of Greſſet in the following remark:—Le Ver-vert ſera toujours un poeme char⯑mant et inimitable, ſans ſouiller ſa plume par l'impiété et la licence qui deſhonorent celle de l'auteur de La Pucelle, le Poete a ſu y répandre un agrément, une fraîcheur et une vivacité de coloris, qui le rendent auſſi piquant dans les détails, qu'il eſt riche et ingénieux dans la fiction. On placera toujours cet agreable badinage parmi les productions originales, propres à faire aimer des etrangers la gaieté Françoiſe en écartant toute mauvaiſe idée de nos moeurs.

Appendix A.3.16 NOTE XVI. VERSE 325.

Madame du Boccage is known to the Engliſh reader as the correſpondent of Lord Cheſterfield. This in⯑genious and ſpirited Lady has written three poems of the Epic kind—Le Paradis Terreſtre, in ſix cantos, from Milton; La Mort d'Abel, in five [283] cantos, from Geſner; and a more original compoſition, in ten cantos, on the exploits of Columbus. I have alluded to a paſſage in the laſt poem, where Zama, the daughter of an Indian Chief, is thus deſcribed:

The works of this elegant female Poet contain an animated verſion of Pope's Temple of Fame. And ſhe has added to her poetry an account of her travels through England, Holland, and Italy, in a ſeries of enter⯑taining letters, addreſſed to Madame du Perron, her ſiſter.

Appendix A.3.17 NOTE XVII. VERSE 344.

Though the Henriade has been frequently reprinted, and the partizans of Voltaire have endeavoured to make it a national point of honour to ſupport its reputation, it ſeems at length to be ſinking under that neglect and oblivion, which never fail to overtake every feeble offspring of the Epic Muſe. Several of our moſt eminent Critics have attacked this performance with peculiar ſeve⯑rity, and ſome have condemned it on the moſt oppoſite principles, merely becauſe it does not coincide with their reſpective ſyſtems. Their ſen⯑tence has been paſſed only in ſhort and incidental remarks; but a French writer, inflamed by perſonal animoſity againſt Voltaire, has raiſed three octavo volumes on the defects of this ſingle poem. Mr. Clement, in his "Entretiens ſur le Poeme Epique relativement à la Henriade," has endeavoured to prove it utterly deficient in all the eſſential points of Epic poetry;—in the ſtructure of its general plan, in the conduct of its va⯑rious parts, in ſentiment, in character, in ſtyle. His work indeed diſ⯑plays an acrimonious deteſtation of the Poet whom he examines; and perhaps there is hardly any human compoſition which could ſupport the ſcrutiny of ſo rigid an inquiſitor: the Henriade is utterly unequal to it; for in many articles we are obliged to confeſs, that the juſtice of the Cri⯑tic is not inferior to his ſeverity. He diſcovers, in his diſſection of the [284] Poem, the ſkill of an anatomiſt, with the malignity of an aſſaſſin. If any thing can deſerve ſuch rigorous treatment, it is certainly the artifice of Voltaire, who, in his Eſſay on Epic Poetry, has attempted, with much ingenuity, to ſink the reputation of all the great Epic Writers, that he might raiſe himſelf to their level; an attempt in which no au⯑thor can ultimately ſucceed; for, as D'Alembert has admirably remarked on a different occaſion, Le public laiſſera l'amour propre de chaque ecrivain faire ſon plaidoyer, rira de leurs efforts, non de genie, mais de raiſonnement, pour hauſſer leur place, et finira par mettre chacun à la ſienne.

Appendix A.3.18 NOTE XVIII. VERSE 475.

It ſeems to be the peculiar infelicity of Pope, that his moral virtues have had a tendency to diminiſh his poetical reputation. Poſſeſſing a benevolent ſpirit, and wiſhing to make the art, to which he devoted his life, as ſerviceable as he could to the great intereſts of mankind, he ſoon quitted the higher regions of poetry, for the more level, and more frequented field of Ethics and of Satire. He declares, with a noble pride ariſing from the probity of his intention,

The ſeverity of Criticiſm has from hence inferred, that his imagination was inferior to the other faculties of his mind, and that he poſſeſſed not that vigour of genius which might enable him to rank with our more ſublime and pathetic Bards. This inference appears to me extremely defective both in candour and in reaſon; it would ſurely be more gene⯑rous, and I will venture to add, more juſt, to aſſign very different cauſes for his having latterly applied himſelf to moral and ſatyric compoſition. If his preceding poems diſplayed only a moderate portion of fancy and of tenderneſs, we might indeed very fairly conjecture, that he quitted the kind of poetry, where theſe qualities are particularly required, becauſe Nature directed him to ſhine only as the Poet of reaſon.—But his earlier productions will authorize an oppoſite concluſion. At an age when few authors have produced any capital work, Pope gave the world two poems; [285] one the offspring of imagination, and the other of ſenſibility, which will ever ſtand at the head of the two poetical claſſes to which they belong: his Rape of the Lock, and his Eloiſe, have nothing to fear from any ri⯑vals, either of paſt or of future time. When a writer has diſplayed ſuch early proofs of exquiſite fancy, and of tender enthuſiaſm, thoſe great conſtituents of the real Poet, ought we not to regret that he did not give a greater ſcope and freer exerciſe to theſe qualities, rather than to aſſert that he did not poſſeſs them in a ſuperlative degree? Why then, it may be aſked, did he confine himſelf to compoſitions in which theſe have little ſhare? The life and character of Pope will perfectly explain the reaſons, why he did not always follow the higher ſuggeſtions of his own natural genius. He had entertained an opinion, that by ſtooping to truth, and employing his talents on the vices and follies of the paſſing time, he ſhould be moſt able to benefit mankind. The idea was perhaps ill-founded, but his conduct in conſequence of it was certainly noble. Its effects however were moſt unhappy; for it took from him all his enjoy⯑ment of life, and may injure, in ſome degree, his immortal reputation: by ſuffering his thoughts to dwell too much on knaves and fools, he fell into the ſplenetic deluſion, that the world is nothing but a compound of vice and folly; and from hence he has been reproached for ſuppoſing that all human merit was confined to himſelf, and to a few of his moſt inti⯑mate correſpondents.

There was an amiable peculiarity in the character of Pope, which had great influence both on his conduct and compoſition—he embraced the ſentiments of thoſe he loved with a kind of ſuperſtitious regard; his imagination and his judgment were perpetually the dupes of an affec⯑tionate heart: it was this which led him, at the requeſt of his idol Bo⯑lingbroke, to write a ſublime poem on metaphyſical ideas which he did not perfectly comprehend; it was this which urged him almoſt to quar⯑rel with Mr. Allen, in compliance with the caprices of a female friend; it was this which induced him, in the warmth of gratitude, to follow the abſurd hints of Warburton with all the blindneſs of infatuated af⯑fection. Whoever examines the life and writings of Pope with a mi⯑nute and unprejudiced attention, will find that his excellencies, both as a Poet and a Man, were peculiarly his own; and that his failings were chiefly owing to the ill judgment, or the artifice, of his real and pre⯑tended [286] friends. The laviſh applauſe and the advice of his favourite Atterbury, was perhaps the cauſe of his preſerving the famous character of Addiſon, which, finely written as it is, all the lovers of Pope muſt wiſh him to have ſuppreſſed. Few of his friends had integrity or frank⯑neſs ſufficient to perſuade him, that his ſatires would, deſtroy the tran⯑quillity of his life, and cloud the luſtre of his fame: yet, to the honour of Lyttelton, be it remembered, that he ſuggeſted ſuch ideas to the Poet, in the verſes which he wrote to him from Rome, with all the becoming zeal of enlightened friendſhip:

This generous admonition did not indeed produce its intended effect, for other counſellors had given a different bias to the mind of the Poet, and the malignity of his enemies had exaſperated his temper; yet he af⯑terwards turned his thoughts towards the compoſition of a national Epic poem, and poſſibly in conſequence of the hint which this Epiſtle of Lyt⯑telton contains. The intention was formed too late, for it aroſe in his decline of life. Had he poſſeſſed health and leiſure to execute ſuch a work, I am perſuaded it would have proved a glorious acquiſition to the literature of our country: the ſubject indeed which he had choſen muſt be allowed to have an unpromiſing appearance; but the opinion of Addi⯑ſon concerning his Sylphs, which was ſurely honeſt, and not invidious, may teach us hardly ever to decide againſt the intended works of a ſu⯑perior genius. Yet in all the Arts, we are perpetually tempted to pro⯑nounce ſuch deciſions. I have frequently condemned ſubjects which my friend Romney had ſelected for the pencil; but in the ſequel, my opinion only proved that I was near-ſighted in thoſe regions of imagina⯑tion, where his keener eyes commanded all the proſpect.

Appendix A.4.1 NOTE I. VERSE 103.

For the advice which I have thus ventured to give ſuch of my fair readers as have a talent for poetry, I ſhall produce them a much higher poetical authority. In the age of Petrarch, an Italian Lady, named Giuſtina Perrot, was deſirous of diſtinguiſhing herſelf by this pleaſing accompliſhment; but the remarks of the world, which repreſented it as improper for her ſex, diſcouraged her ſo far, that ſhe was almoſt tempted to relinquiſh her favourite pur⯑ſuit. In her doubts on this point, ſhe conſulted the celebrated Poet of her country in an elegant Sonnet; and received his anſwer on the inte⯑reſting ſubject in the ſame poetical form. I ſhall add the two Sonnets, with an imitation of each.

Appendix A.4.2 NOTE II. VERSE 210.

Milton ſold the copy of Pa⯑radiſe Loſt for the ſum of five pounds, on the condition of receiving fifteen pounds more at three ſubſequent periods, to be regulated by the ſale of the Poem.—For the ceiling at Whitehall, Rubens received, three thou⯑ſand pounds.

Appendix A.4.3 NOTE III. VERSE 298.

Arioſto is ſaid to have been publicly crowned with laurel at Mantua, by the Emperor Charles the Vth, towards the end of the year 1532. This fact has been diſputed by various writers, but it ſeems to be ſufficiently eſtabliſhed by the reſearches of Mazzuchelli.

The cuſtom of crowning Poets with laurel is almoſt as ancient as poetry itſelf, ſays the Abbé du Reſnel, in his Recherches ſur les Poetes couron⯑nez, a work which contains but ſcanty information on this curious topic. Petrarch is generally ſuppoſed to have revived this ancient ſolemnity, which had been aboliſhed as a pagan inſtitution in the reign of the Em⯑peror Theodoſius. It appears however, from two paſſages in the writings of Boccacio, that Dante had entertained ſerious thoughts of this honour⯑able diſtinction, which his exile precluded him from receiving, as he choſe, ſays his Biographer, to be crown'd only in his native city.

An amuſing volume might be written on the honours which have been paid to Poets in different ages, and in various parts of the world. It is remarkable, that the moſt unpoliſhed nations have been the moſt laviſh in rewarding their Bards. There are two inſtances on record, in which poe⯑tical talents have raiſed their poſſeſſors even to ſovereign dominion. The Scythians choſe the Poet Thamyris for their king, though he was not a native of their country, [...]. Hiſt. Poet. Script. Edit. Gale, p. 250. Saxo Grammaticus begins the ſixth book of his Hiſtory by relating, that the Danes beſtowed their vacant diadem on the Poet Hiarnus, as a reward for his having compoſed the beſt epitaph on their deceaſed ſovereign Fro⯑tho. From the four Latin verſes which the Hiſtorian has given us, as a [291] tranſlation of this extraordinary epitaph, we may venture to affirm, that the poetical monarch obtain'd his crown on very eaſy conditions.

Appendix A.4.4 NOTE IV. VERSE 314.

Of the great wealth which flowed into the hands of this extraordinary Poet, his friend and biographer Montalvan has given a particular account. This author con⯑cludes that Lope de Vega gained by his dramatic works alone a ſum nearly equal to 20,000 pounds ſterling; the revenue ariſing from the poſts he held, and from his penſion, was very conſiderable. His opu⯑lence was much encreaſed by the moſt ſplendid inſtances of private libe⯑rality. He received many coſtly preſents from various characters to whom he was perſonally unknown; and he was himſelf heard to ſay, in ſpeaking of his generous patron, that the Duke of Seſſa alone had given him, at different periods of his life, ſums almoſt amounting to ſix thou⯑ſand pounds.

It muſt be confeſſed, that the noble patrons of Engliſh poetry have not equalled this example of Spaniſh munificence, even if we admit, the truth of our traditionary anecdotes concerning the generoſity of Lord South⯑ampton to Shakeſpeare, and of Sir Philip Sidney to Spenſer. Conſider⯑ing the liberality for which our nation is ſo juſtly celebrated, it is re⯑markable, that not a ſingle Engliſh Poet appears to have been enriched by our monarchs: yet Spenſer had every claim to the bounty of Elizabeth; he ſung her praiſes in a ſtrain which might gratify her pride; and of all who have flattered the great, he may juſtly be conſidered as the moſt worthy of reward. His ſong was the tribute of his heart as well as of his fancy, and the ſex of his idol may be ſaid to purify his incenſe from all the offenſive particles of ſervile adulation. The neglect which he ex⯑perienced from the vain, imperious, and ungrateful Elizabeth, appears the more ſtriking, when we recollect, that her lovely rival, the beautiful and unfortunate Queen of Scots, ſignalized her ſuperior generoſity by a magnificent preſent of plate to the French Poet Ronſard. This neglected Bard was once the darling of France, and perhaps equalled Lope de Vega in the honours which he received: his ſovereign, Charles the Ninth, compoſed ſome elegant verſes in his praiſe, and the city of Toulouſe pre⯑ſented him with a Minerva of maſſive ſilver.

[292]If our princes and nobles have not equalled thoſe of other kingdoms in liberality to the great Poets of their country, England may yet boaſt the name of a private gentleman, who diſcovered in this reſpect a moſt princely ſpirit; no nation, either ancient or modern, can produce an ex⯑ample of munificence more truly noble than the annual gratuity which Akenſide received from Mr. Dyſon; a tribute of generous and affectionate admiration, endeared to its worthy poſſeſſor by every conſideration which could make it honourable both to himſelf and to his patron!

It has been lately lamented by an elegant and accompliſhed writer, who had too much reaſon for the complaint, that ‘the profeſſion of Literature, by far the moſt laborious of any, leads to no real be⯑nefit.’ Experience undoubtedly proves, that it has a general tendency to impoveriſh its votaries; and the legiſlators of every country would act perhaps a wiſe, at all events an honourable part, if they corrected this tendency, by eſtabliſhing public emoluments for ſuch as eminently diſ⯑tinguiſh themſelves in the various branches of ſcience. It is ſurely poſſible to form ſuch an eſtabliſhment, which, without proving a national burthen, might aggrandize the literary glory of the nation, by pre⯑ſerving her men of letters from the evils ſo frequently connected with their purſuits, by ſecuring, to thoſe who deſerve it, the poſſeſſion of eaſe and honour, without damping their emulation, or deſtroying their inde⯑pendence.

Appendix A.5.1 NOTE I. VERSE 76.

Ariſtotle has ſaid but little, in his Poetics, concerning that weighty point, which has ſo much employed and embarraſſed the modern Critics—the machinery of the Epic poem; and the little which he has ſaid might rather furniſh an argument for its excluſion, than juſtify its uſe. But Rome, in her moſt degenerate days, produced a writer, to whoſe authority, contemp⯑tible as it is, moſt frequent appeals have been made in this curious lite⯑rary queſtion. In almoſt every modern author who has touched, how⯑ever ſlightly, on Epic poetry, we may find at leaſt ſome part of the following ſentence from Petronius Arbiter:—Ecce, Belli civilis ingens opus quiſquis attigerit, niſi plenus litteris, ſub onere labetur. Non enim res geſtae verſibus comprehendendae ſunt, quod longe melius hiſtorici fa⯑ciunt; ſed per ambages, deorumque miniſteria, & fabuloſum ſententi⯑arum tormentum praecipitandus eſt liber ſpiritus; ut potius furentis animi vaticinatio appareat, quam religioſae orationis ſub teſtibus fides.

Theſe remarks on the neceſſity of celeſtial agents, were evidently, made to depreciate the Pharſalia of Lucan; and Petronius may be called a fair Critic, as Pope ſaid of Milbourne, on his oppoſition to Dryden, becauſe he produces his own poetry in contraſt to that which he con⯑demns. His ſpecimen of the manner in which he thought an Epic poem ſhould be conducted, ſufficiently proves the abſurdity of his cri⯑ticiſm; [294] for how inſipid is the fable in thoſe verſes which he has oppoſed to the Pharſalia, when compared to the firſt book of Lucan! Yet the Epic compoſition of Petronius has not wanted admirers: a Dutch Commentator is bold enough to ſay, that he prefers this ſingle rhapſody to three hundred volumes of ſuch poetry as Lucan's: an opinion which can only lead us to exclaim with Boileau, ‘Un ſot trouve toujours un plus ſot qui l'admire.’

If men of letters, in the age of Lucan, differed in their ſentiments concerning machinery, the great changes that have ſince happened in the world, and the diſquiſitions which have appeared on the ſubject, are very far from having reconciled the judgment of modern writers on this important article. Two eminent Critics of the preſent time have delivered opinions on this topic ſo ſingularly oppoſite to each other, that I ſhall tranſcribe them both.

I have thus ventured to confront theſe eminent critical antagoniſts, that, while they engage and overthrow each other, we may obſerve the injuſtice produced by the ſpirit of ſyſtematical criticiſm, even in authors moſt reſpectable for their talents and erudition.—Here is the unfortunate Voltaire placed between two critical fires, which equally deſtroy him. The firſt Critic aſſerts that the Henriade muſt be ſhort-lived, becauſe the Poet has introduced inviſible and ſuperior agents;—the ſecond denounces the ſame fate againſt it, becauſe it wants the agency of ſuperior natures: yet ſurely every reader of poetry, who is not influenced by any particular ſyſtem, will readily allow, that if Voltaire had treated his ſubject with true Epic ſpirit in all other points, neither the introduction nor the abſence of St. Louis could be ſingly ſufficient to plunge the Henriade in oblivion. Indeed the learned author, who has ſpoken in ſo peremptory a manner concerning the neceſſity of ſupernatural agents to preſerve the exiſtence of an Epic poem, appears rather unfortunate in the two exam⯑ples by which he endeavours to ſupport his doctrine; for the Epic poems both of Davenant and Voltaire have ſufficient defects to account for any neglect which may be their lot, without conſidering the article of Machinery.

If I have warmly oppoſed any deciſions of this exalted Critic, it is [297] from a perſuaſion (in which I may perhaps be miſtaken) that ſome of his maxims have a ſtrong tendency to injure an art highly dear to us both; an art on which his genius and learning have caſt many rays of pleaſing and of uſeful light.

Appendix A.5.2 NOTE II. VERSE 166.

This anecdote of Nean⯑thus, the ſon of King Pittacus, is related by Lucian. The curious reader may find it in the ſecond volume of Dr. Francklin's ſpirited tranſ⯑lation of that lively author, page 355 of the quarto edition.

Appendix A.5.3 NOTE III. VERSE 276.

The Indian mythology, as it has lately been illuſtrated in the writings of Mr. Holwell, is finely calculated to anſwer the purpoſe of any poetical genius who may wiſh to introduce new machinery into the ſerious Epic Poem. Beſides the powerful charm of novelty, it would have the advantage of not claſhing with our national religion; for the endeavours of Mr. Holwell to re⯑concile the ancient and pure doctrine of Bramah with the diſpenſation of Chriſt, have ſo far ſucceeded, that if his ſyſtem does not ſatisfy a theo⯑logiſt, it certainly affords a ſufficient baſis for the ſtructure of a Poet. In peruſing his account of the Indian ſcripture, every reader of imagina⯑tion may, I think, perceive, that the Shaſtah might ſupply a poetical ſpirit with as rich a maſs of ideal treaſure as fancy could with to work upon.—An Epic Poet, deſirous of laying the ſcene of his action in India, would be more embarraſſed to find intereſting Heroes than proper Divi⯑nities. —Had juſtice and generoſity inſpired and guided that Engliſh valour, which has ſignalized itſelf on the plains of Indoſtan; had the arms of our country been employed to deliver the native Indians from the oppreſſive uſurpation of the Mahometan powers; ſuch exploits would preſent to the Epic Muſe a ſubject truly noble, and the mytholo⯑gy of the Eaſt might enrich it with the moſt ſplendid decorations. Whether it be poſſible or not to find ſuch a ſubject in the records of our Indian hiſtory, I leave the reader to determine.—Our great Hiſtorian of the Roman empire has intimated, in a note to the firſt volume of his immortal work, that ‘the wonderful expedition of Odin, which deduces [298] the enmity of the Goths and Romans from ſo memorable a cauſe, might ſupply the noble ground-work of an Epic poem.’ The idea is cer⯑tainly both juſt and ſplendid. Had Gray been ever tempted to engage in ſuch a work, he would probably have convinced us, that the Northern mythology has ſtill ſufficient power to ſeize and enchant the imagina⯑tion, as much in Epic as in Lyric compoſition.

It may amuſe our ſpeculative Critics, to conſider how far the religious Gothic fables ſhould be introduced or rejected, to render ſuch a per⯑formance moſt intereſting to a modern reader. Few judges would agree in their ſentiments on the queſtion; and perhaps the great diſpute con⯑cerning Machinery cannot be fairly adjuſted, till ſome happy genius ſhall poſſeſs ambition and perſeverance enough to execute two Epic poems, in the one adopting, and in the other rejecting, ſupernatural agents; for Reaſon alone is by no means an infallible conductor in the province of Fancy; and in the poetical as well as the philoſophical world, experi⯑ment is the ſureſt guide to truth.