Volume 1 / Part 3 — NOTES ON THE EPISTLE TO AUGUSTUS. (continued 2)

Cardinal Perron, taking occasion to commend certain pieces of the poet Ronsard, chuses to deliver himself in the following manner: “Prenez de lui quelque poëme que ce soit, il paye toujours son lecteur, et quand la verve le prend, il se guinde en haut, il vous porte jusques dans les nuës, il vous fait voir mille belles choses.

“Que ses saisons sont bien-faites! Que la description de la lyre a Bertaut est admirable! Que le discours au ministre, excellent! Tous ses hymnes sont beaux. Celui de l’eternité est admirable; ceux des saisons marveilleux.” [Perroniana.]

What now has the reader learned from this varied criticism, but that his Eminence was indeed very fond of his poet; and that he esteemed these several pieces to be (what with less expence of words he might, in one breath, have called them) well-turned, beautiful, excellent, admirable, marvellous, poems? To have given us the true character of each, and to have marked the precise degree, as well as kind, of merit in these works, had been a task of another nature.

211.—QUI PECTUS INANITER ANGIT,] The word inaniter as well as falsi, applied in the following line to terrores, would express that wondrous force of dramatic representation, which compels us to take part in feigned adventures and situations, as if they were real; and exercises the passions with the same violence, in remote fancied scenes, as in the present distresses of real life.

And this is that sovereign quality in poetry, which, as an old writer of our own naturally expresses it, is of force to hold children from play, and old men from the chimney corner52. The poet, in the place before us, considers it as a kind of magic virtue, which transports the spectator into all places, and makes him, occasionally, assume all persons. The resemblance holds, also, in this, that its effects are instantaneous and irresistible. Rules, art, decorum, all fall before it. It goes directly to the heart, and gains all purposes at once. Hence it is, that, speaking of a real genius, possessed of this commanding power, Horace pronounces him, emphatically, THE POET,

it being more especially this property, which, of itself, discovers the true dramatist, and secures the success of his performance, not only without the assistance of art, but in direct opposition to its clearest dictates.

This power has been felt on a thousand other occasions. But its triumphs were never more conspicuous, than in the famous instance of the Cid of P. Corneille; which, by the sole means of this enchanting quality, drew along with it the affections and applauses of a whole people: notwithstanding the manifest transgression of some essential rules, the utmost tyranny of jealous power, and, what is more, in defiance of all the authority and good sense of one of the justest pieces of criticism in the French language, written purposely to discredit and expose it.

224. Cum lamentamur non adparere labores Nostros, &c.] It was remarked upon verse 211, that the beauties of a poem can only appear by being felt. And they, to whom they do not appear in this instance, are the writer’s own friends, who, it is not to be supposed, would disguise their feelings. So that the lamentation, here spoken of, is at once a proof of impertinence in the poet, and of the badness of his poetry, which sets the complainant in a very ridiculous light.

228. Egere vetes.] The poet intended, in these words, a very just satire on those presuming wits and scholars, who, under the pretence of getting above distressful want, in reality aspire to public honours and preferments; though this be the most inexcusable of all follies (to give it the softest name), which can infest a man of letters: Both, because experience, on which a wise man would chuse to regulate himself, is contrary to these hopes; and, because if literary merit could succeed in them, the Reward, as the poet speaks,

That is, the learned would either have no relish for the delights of so widely different a situation; or, which hath oftener been the case, would lose the learning itself, or the love of it at least, on which their pretensions to this reward are founded.

232. Gratus Alexandro regi magno &c.] This praise of Augustus, arising from the comparison of his character with that of Alexander, is extremely fine. It had been observed of the Macedonian by his historians and panegyrists, that, to the stern virtues of the conqueror, he had joined the softer accomplishments of the virtuoso, in a just discernment and love of poetry, and of the elegant arts. The one was thought clear from his admiration and study of Homer: And the other, from his famous edict concerning Apelles and Lysippus, could not be denied. Horace finds means to turn both these circumstances in his story to the advantage of his prince.

From his extravagant pay of such a wretched versifier, as Choerilus, he would insinuate, that Alexander’s love of the muse was, in fact, but a blind unintelligent impulse towards glory. And from his greater skill in the arts of sculpture and painting, than of verse, he represents him as more concerned about the drawing of his figure, than the pourtraiture of his manners and mind. Whereas Augustus, by his liberalities to Varius and Virgil, had discovered the truest taste in the art, from which he expected immortality: and, in trusting to that, as the chief instrument of his fame, had confessed a prior regard to those mental virtues, which are the real ornament of humanity, before that look of terror, and air and attitude of victory, in which the brute violence of Alexander most delighted to be shewn.

243. Musarum dona] The expression is happy; as implying, that these images of virtue, which are represented as of such importance to the glory of princes, are not the mere offerings of poetry to greatness, but the free-gifts of the muse to the poet. For it is only to such works, as these, that Horace attributes the wondrous efficacy of expressing the manners and mind in fuller and more durable relief, than sculpture gives to the exterior figure.

247.—Virgilius.] Virgil is mentioned, in this place, simply as a Poet. The precise idea of his poetry is given us elsewhere.

But this may appear a strange praise of the sweet and polished Virgil. It appeared so to Quinctilian, who cites this passage, and explains it, without doubt, very justly, yet in such a way as shews that he was not quite certain of the truth of his explanation.

The case, I believe, was this. The word facetum, which makes the difficulty, had acquired, in Quinctilian’s days, the sense of pleasant, witty, or facetious, in exclusion to every other idea, which had formerly belonged to it. It is true that, in the Augustan age, and still earlier, facetum was sometimes used in this sense. But its proper and original meaning was no more than exact, factitatum, benè factum. And in this strict sense, I believe, it is always used by Horace.

i. e. tucked up, trim, expedite.

i. e. he [Lucilius] adopted a stricter measure, than the writers of the old comedy; or, by changing the loose iambic to the Hexameter verse, he gave a proof of his art, skill, and improved judgment.

i. e. nicely and accurately adapt your address to the age and condition of each.

I do not recollect any other place where facetus is used by Horace; and in all these it seems probable to me that the principal idea, conveyed by it, is that of care, art, skill, only differently modified according to the subject to which it is applied: a gown tucked up with care—a measure studiously affected—an address nicely accommodated—No thought of ridicule or pleasantry intended.

It is the same in the present instance—

MOLLE ATQUE FACETUM

i. e. a soft flowing versification, and an exquisitely finished expression: the two precise, characteristic merits of Virgil’s rural poetry.

This change, in the sense of words, is common in all languages, and creeps in so gradually and imperceptibly as to elude the notice, sometimes, of the best critics, even in their own language. The transition of ideas, in the present instance, may be traced thus. As what was wittily said, was most studied, artificial, and exquisite, hence in process of time facetum lost its primary sense, and came to signify merely, witty.

We have a like example in our own language. A good wit meant formerly a man of good natural sense and understanding: but because what we now call wit was observed to be the flower and quintessence, as it were, of good sense, hence a man of wit is now the exclusive attribute of one who exerts his good sense in that peculiar manner.

247. Dilecti tibi Virgilius &c.] It does honour to the memory of Augustus, that he bore the affection, here spoken of, to this amiable poet; who was not more distinguished from his contemporary writers by the force of an original, inventive genius, than the singular benevolence and humanity of his character. Yet there have been critics of so perverse a turn, as to discover an inclination, at least, of disputing both.

1. Some have taken offence at his supposed unfriendly neglect of Horace, who, on every occasion, shewed himself so ready to lavish all his praises on him. But the folly of this slander is of a piece with its malignity, as proceeding on the absurd fancy, that Virgil’s friends might as easily have slid into such works, as the Georgics and Eneïs, as those of Horace into the various occasional poems, which employed his pen.

Just such another senseless suspicion hath been raised of his jealousy of Homer’s superior glory (a vice, from which the nature of the great poet was singularly abhorrent), only, because he did not think fit to give him the first place among the poets in Elysium, several hundred years before he had so much as made his appearance upon earth.

But these petty calumnies of his moral character hardly deserve a confutation. What some greater authorities have objected to his poetical, may be thought more serious. For,

2. It has been given out by some of better note among the moderns, and from thence, according to the customary influence of authority, hath become the prevailing sentiment of the generality of the learned, that the great poet was more indebted for his fame to the exactness of his judgment; to his industry, and a certain trick of imitation, than to the energy of natural genius; which he is thought to have possessed in a very slender degree.

This charge is founded on the similitude, which all acknowledge, betwixt his great work, the Aeneis, and the poems of Homer. But, “how far such similitude infers imitation; or, how far imitation itself infers an inferiority of natural genius in the imitator,” this hath never been considered. In short the affair of imitation in poetry, though one of the most curious and interesting in all criticism, hath been, hitherto, very little understood: as may appear from hence, that there is not, as far as I can learn, one single treatise, now extant, written purposely to explain it; the discourse, which the learned Menage intended, and which, doubtless, would have given light to this matter, having never, as I know of, been made public. To supply, in some measure, this loss, I have thought it not amiss to put together and methodize a few reflexions of my own on this subject, which (because the matter is large, and cannot easily be drawn into a compass, that suits with the nature of these occasional remarks) the reader will find in a distinct and separate dissertation upon it53.

CONCLUSION.

And, now, having explained, in the best manner I could, the two famous Epistles of Horace to Augustus and the Pisos, it may be expected, in conclusion, that I should say something of the rest of our poet’s critical writings. For his Sermones (under which general term I include his Epistles) are of two sorts, Moral and Critical; and, though both are exquisite, the latter are perhaps, in their kind, the more perfect of the two; his moral principles being sometimes, I believe, liable to exception, his critical, never.

The two pieces, illustrated in these volumes, are strictly critical: the first, being a professed criticism of the Roman drama; and the last, in order to their vindication, of the Roman poets. The rest of his works, which turn upon this subject of criticism, may be rather termed Apologetical. They are the IV^th and X^th of the First, and I^st of the Second book of Satires; and the XIX^th of the First, and, in part, the II^d of the Second book of Epistles.

In these, the poet has THREE great objects; one or other of which he never loses sight of, and generally he prosecutes them all together, in the same piece. These objects are, 1. to vindicate the way of writing in satire. 2. To justify his opinion of a favourite writer of this class, the celebrated Lucilius. And 3. to expose the careless and incorrect composition of the Roman writers.

He was himself deeply concerned in these three articles; so that he makes his own apology at the same time that he criticizes or censures others. The address of the poet’s manner will be seen by bearing in mind this general purpose of his critical poetry. How he came to be engaged in this controversy, will best appear from a few observations on the state of the Roman learning, when he undertook to contribute his pains to the improvement of it.

I have, in the introduction to the first of these volumes, given a slight sketch of the rise and progress of the Roman satire. This poem, was purely of Roman invention: first of all, struck out of the old fescennine farce, and rudely cultivated, by Ennius: Next, more happily treated, and enriched with the best part of the old comedy, by Lucilius: And, after some succeeding essays, taken up and finally adorned, by Horace.

Horace was well known to the public by his lyric compositions, and still more perhaps by his favour at court, when he took upon him to correct the manners and taste of his age, by his Lucilian Satires. But, here, he encountered, at once, many prejudices; and all his own credit, together with that of his court-friends, was little enough to support him, against the torrent.

First, the kind of writing itself was sure to give offence. For, though men were well enough pleased to have their natural malignity gratified by an old poet’s satire against a former age, yet they were naturally alarmed at the exercise of this talent upon their own, and, as it might chance, upon themselves.

The poet’s eminence, and favour, would, besides, give a peculiar force and effect to his censures, so that all who found, or thought themselves liable to them, were concerned, in interest, to discredit the attempt, and blast his rising reputation.

Hence, he was constrained to stand upon his own defence, and to vindicate, as well the thing itself, as his management of it, to the tender and suspicious public.

But this was not all: For, Secondly, an old satirist, of high birth and quality, Lucilius, was considered, not only as an able writer of this class, but as a perfect model in it; and of course, therefore, this new satirist would be much decried and undervalued, on the comparison. This circumstance obliged the poet to reduce this admired writer to his real value; which could not be done without thwarting the general admiration, and pointing out his vices and defects in the freest manner. This perilous task he discharged in the IV^th satire of his first book, and with such rigour of criticism, that not only the partizans of Lucilius, in the poet’s own age, but the most knowing and candid critics of succeeding times, were disposed to complain of it. However, the obnoxious step had been taken; and nothing remained but to justify himself, as he hath done at large, in his X^th satire.

On the whole, in comparing what he has said in these two satires with what Quinctilian long after observed on the subject of them, there seems no reason to conclude, that the poet judged ill; though he expressed his judgment in such terms as he would, no doubt, have something softened (out of complaisance to the general sentiment, and a becoming deference to the real merits of his master), if his adversaries had been more moderate in urging their charge, or if the occasion had not been so pressing.

Lastly, this attack on Lucilius produced, or rather involved in it, a THIRD quarrel. The poet’s main objection to Lucilius was his careless, verbose, and hasty composition, which his admirers, no doubt, called genius, grace, and strength. This being an inveterate folly among his countrymen, he gives it no quarter. Through all his critical works, he employs the utmost force of his wit and good sense to expose it: And his own writings, being at the same time supremely correct, afforded his enemies (which would provoke them still more) no advantage against him. Yet they attempted, as they could, to repay his perpetual reproaches on the popular writers for their neglect of limae labor, by objecting to him, in their turn, that what he wrote was sine nervis: and this, though they felt his force themselves, and though another set of men were complaining, at the same time, of his severity.

His detractors satirically alluding, in these last words, to his charge against Lucilius—

It is not my purpose, in this place, to enlarge further on the character of Lucilius, whose wordy satires gave occasion to our poet’s criticism. Several of the ancient writers speak of him occasionally, in terms of the highest applause; and without doubt, he was a poet of distinguished merit. Yet it will hardly be thought, at this day, that it could be any discredit to him to be censured, rivalled, and excelled by Horace.

What I have here put together is only to furnish the young reader with the proper Key to Horace’s critical works, which generally turn on his own vindication, against the enemies of satire—the admirers of Lucilius—and the patrons of loose and incorrect composition.

In managing these several topics, he has found means to introduce a great deal of exquisite criticism. And though his scattered observations go but a little way towards making up a complete critical system, yet they are so luminous, as the French speak, that is, they are so replete with good sense, and extend so much further than to the case to which they are immediately applied, that they furnish many of the principles on which such a system, if ever it be taken in hand, must be constructed: And, without carrying matters too far, we may safely affirm of these Critical Discourses, that, next to Aristotle’s immortal work, they are the most valuable remains of ancient art upon this subject.

The End of the Notes on the Epistle to Augustus.

THE END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

J. Nichols and Son, Printers, Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London.