Volume 1 / Part 3 — PART III. A CARE AND DILIGENCE IN WRITING RECOMMENDED.

I. [from l. 295 to l. 323] The poet ridicules that false notion, into which the Romans had fallen, that poetry and possession were nearly the same thing: that nothing more was required in a poet, than some extravagant starts and sallies of thought; that coolness and reflexion were inconsistent with his character, and that poetry was not to be scanned by the rules of sober sense. This they carried so far, as to affect the outward port and air of madness, and, upon the strength of that appearance, to set up for wits and poets. In opposition to this mistake, which was one great hindrance to critical correctness, he asserts wisdom and good sense to be the source and principle of good writing: for the attainment of which he prescribes, 1. [from v. 310 to 312] A careful study of the Socratic, that is, moral wisdom: and, 2. [from v. 312 to 318] A thorough acquaintance with human nature, that great exemplar of manners, as he finely calls it, or, in other words, a wide extensive view of real, practical life. The joint direction of these two, as means of acquiring moral knowledge, was perfectly necessary. For the former, when alone, is apt to grow abstracted and unaffecting: the latter, uninstructing and superficial. The philosopher talks without experience, and the man of the world without principles. United they supply each other’s defects; while the man of the world borrows so much of the philosopher, as to be able to adjust the several sentiments with precision and exactness; and the philosopher so much of the man of the world as to copy the manners of life (which we can only do by experience) with truth and spirit. Both together furnish a thorough and complete comprehension of human life; which manifesting itself in the just, and affecting, forms that exquisite degree of perfection in the character of the dramatic poet; the want of which no warmth of genius can atone for, or excuse. Nay such is the force of this nice adjustment of manners [from l. 319 to 323] that, where it has remarkably prevailed, the success of a play hath sometimes been secured by it, without one single excellence or recommendation besides.

II. He shews [from l. 323 to 333] another cause of their incorrectness and want of success, in any degree, answering to that of the Greek writers, to have been the low and illiberal education of the Roman youth; who, while the Greeks were taught to open all their mind to glory, were cramped in their genius by the rust of gain, and, by the early infusion of such sordid principles, became unable to project a great design, or with any care and mastery to complete it.

III. A third impediment to their success in poetry [from l. 333 to 346] was their inattention to the entire scope and purpose of it, while they contented themselves with the attainment of one only of the two great ends, which are proposed by it. For the double design of poetry being to instruct and please, the full aim and glory of the art cannot be attained without uniting them both: that is, instructing so as to please, and pleasing so as to instruct. Under either head of instruction and entertainment the poet, with great address, insinuates the main art of each kind of writing, which consists, 1. in instructive or didactic poetry [from v. 335 to 338] in the conciseness of the precept: and, 2. in works of fancy and entertainment [l. 338 to 341] in probability of fiction. But both these [l. 341 to 347] must concur in a just piece.

But here the bad poet objects the difficulty of the terms, imposed upon him, and that, if the critic looked for all these requisites, and exacted them with rigour, it would be impossible to satisfy him: at least it was more likely to discourage, than quicken, as he proposed, the diligence of writers. To this the reply is [from l. 347 to 360] that he was not so severe, as to exact a faultless and perfect piece: that some inaccuracies and faults of less moment would escape the most cautious and guarded writer; and that, as he should contemn a piece, that was generally bad, notwithstanding a few beauties, he could, on the contrary, admire a work, that was generally good, notwithstanding a few faults. Nay, he goes on [from l. 360 to 366] to observe in favour of writers, against their too rigorous censurers, that what were often called faults, were really not so: that some parts of a poem ought to be less shining, or less finished, than others; according to the light, they were placed in, or the distance, from which they were viewed; and that, serving only to connect and lead to others of greater consequence, it was sufficient if they pleased once, or did not displease, provided that those others would please on every review. All this is said agreeably to nature, which does not allow every part of a subject, to be equally susceptible of ornament; and to the end of poetry, which cannot so well be attained, without an inequality. The allusions to painting, which the poet uses, give this truth the happiest illustration.

Having thus made all the reasonable allowances, which a writer could expect, he goes on to inforce the general instruction of this part, viz. a diligence in writing, by shewing [from l. 366 to 379] that a mediocrity, however tolerable, or even commendable, it might be in other arts, would never be allowed in this: for which he assigns this very obvious and just reason; that, as the main end of poetry is to please, if it did not reach that point (which it could not do by stopping ever so little on this side excellence) it was, like indifferent music, indifferent perfumes, or any other indifferent thing, which we can do without, and whose end should be to please, offensive and disagreeable, and for want of being very good, absolutely and insufferably bad. This reflexion leads him with great advantage [from l. 379 to 391] to the general conclusion in view, viz. that as none but excellent poetry will be allowed, it should be a warning to writers, how they engage in it without abilities; or publish without severe and frequent correction. But to stimulate the poet, who, notwithstanding the allowances already made, might be something struck with this last reflexion, he flings out [from l. 391 to 408] into a fine encomium, on the dignity and excellence of the art itself, by recounting its ancient honours. This encomium, besides its great usefulness in invigorating the mind of the poet, has this further view, to recommend and revive, together with its honours, the office of ancient poesy; which was employed about the noblest and most important subjects; the sacred source, from whence those honours were derived.

From this transient view of the several species of poetry, terminating, as by a beautiful contrivance it is made to do, in the Ode, the order of his ideas carries him into some reflexions on the power of genius (which so essentially belongs to the lyric Muse) and to settle thereby a point of criticism, much controverted among the ancients, and on which a very considerable stress would apparently be laid. For, if after all, so much art and care and caution be demanded in poetry, what becomes of genius, in which alone it had been thought to consist? would the critic insinuate, that good poems can be the sole effect of art, and go so far, in opposition to the reigning prejudice, as to assert nature to be of no force at all? This objection, which would be apt to occur to the general scope and tenor of the epistle, as having turned principally on art and rules without insisting much on natural energy, the poet obviates at once [from v. 408 to 419] by reconciling two things which were held, it seems, incompatible, and demanding in the poet, besides the fire of real genius, all the labour and discipline of art. But there is one thing still wanting. The poet may be excellently formed by nature, and accomplished by art, but will his own judgment be a sufficient guide, without assistance from others? will not the partiality of an author for his own works sometimes prevail over the united force of rules and genius, unless he call in a fairer and less interested guide? Doubtless it will: and therefore the poet, with the utmost propriety, adds [from v. 419 to 450] as a necessary part of this instructive monition to his brother poets, some directions concerning the choice of a prudent and sincere friend, whose unbiassed sense might at all times correct the prejudices, indiscretions, and oversights of the author. And to impress this necessary care, with greater force, on the poet, he closes the whole with shewing the dreadful consequences of being imposed upon in so nice an affair; representing, in all the strength of colouring, the picture of a bad poet, infatuated, to a degree of madness, by a fond conceit of his own works, and exposed thereby (so important had been the service of timely advice) to the contempt and scorn of the public.

And now, an unity of design in this epistle, and the pertinent connection of its several parts being, it is presumed, from this method of illustration, clearly and indisputably shewn, what must we think of the celebrated French interpreter of Horace, who, after a studied translation of this piece, supported by a long, elaborate commentary, minutely condescending to scrutinize each part, could yet perceive so little of its true form and character, as to give it for his summary judgment, in conclusion; “Comme il [Horace] ne travailloit pas à cela de suite et qu’il ne gardoit d’autre ordre que celui des matieres que le hazard lui donnoit à lire et à examiner, il est arrivé delà qu’ IL N’ Y A AUCUNE METHODE NI AUCUNE LIAISON DE PARTIES DANS CE TRAITÉ, qui même n’a jamais été achevé, Horace n’ ayant pas eu le tems d’y mettre la derniere main, ou, ce qui est plus vraisemblable, n’ayant pas voulu s’en donner la peine.” [M. Dacier’s Introd. remarks to the art of poetry.] The softest thing that can be said of such a critic, is, that he well deserves the censure, he so justly applied to the great Scaliger, S’IL L’AVOIT BIEN ENTENDU, IL LUI AUROIT RENDU PLUS DE JUSTICE, ET EN AUROIT PARLÉ PLUS MODESTEMENT.