No More Learning

Piety, as your Lordship sees, takes place of all, as the chief part of his character; and the word in Latin is more i_11 than it can possibly be express'd in any modem lan- guage; for there it comprehends not only devotion to the gods, but fihal love and tender affection to relations of all sorts. As instances of this, the deities of Troy and his own Penates are made the companions of his flight: they appear to him in his voyage, and advise him ; and at last he replaces them in Italy, their native country For his father, he takes him on his back, he leads his little son; his wife follows him; but, losing h2s footsteps thro' fear or ignorance, he goes back into the midst of h_s enemies to find her, and leaves not his pursuit t_ll her ghost appears, to forbid his farther search. I will say nothing of his duty to his father while he liv'd, his sorrows for his death, of the games instituted in honor of his memory, or seeking him, by his command, even after death, in the Elysian fields. I will not mention his tenderness for his son, which everywhere is visible--of his raising a tomb for Polydorus, the obsequies for Misenus, his pious remembrance of Deiphobus, the funerals of his nurse, his grief for Pallas, and his revenge taken on his murtherer, whom otherwise, by his natural compassion, he had for- given: and then the poem had been left imperfect; for we could have had no certain prospect of his happiness, while the last obstacle to it was unremov'd. Of the other parts which compose his character, as a king or as a general, I need say nothing; the whole i]inei$ is one continued instance of some one or other of them; and where I find anything of them tax'd, it shall suffice me, as briefly as I can, to vindi- cate my divine master to your Lordship, and by you to the reader. But herdn Segrais, in his admirable preface to his _anslation of the _Ene/. ? , as the author of the Dauphin's _Virgil justly calls it, has prevented me. Him I follow, and
J
? 24 DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL
what I borrow from him, am ready to acknowledge to him. For, impartially speaking, the Frencl_ are as much better critics than the English, as they are worse poets. Thus we
generally allow that they better understand the management of a war than our islanders; but we know we are superior
to them in the day of battle. They value themselves on their generals, we on our soldiers. But this is not the proper place to decide that questaon, if they make it one. I shall say perhaps as much of other nations and their poets, ex- cepting only Tasso; and hope to make my assertion good, which is but doing justice to my country, part of which honor will reflect on your Lordship, whose thoughts are al- ways just; your numbers harmonious, your words chosen, your expressions strong and manly, your verse flowing, and your turns as happy as they are easy. If you would set us more copies, your example would make all precepts needless. In the mean time, that little you have written is own'd, and that par-'ticuiarly by the poets, (who are a nation not over lavish of praise to their contemporaries,) as a principal or- nament of our language ; but the sweetest essences are always eonfin'd in the smallest glasses.
When I speak of your Lordship, 't is never a digression, and therefore I need beg no pardon for it; but take up Segrais where I left him, and shall use him less often than I have occasion for him; for his preface is a perfect piece of criticism, full and clear, and digested into an exact method; mine is loose, and, as I intended it, epistolary. Yet I dwell on many things which he durst not touch; for 't is
dangerous to offend an arbitrary master, and every patron who has the power of Augustus has not his clemency. In short, my Lord, I would not translate him, because I would bring you somewhat of my own His notes and observations on every book are of the same excellency; and, for the same reason, I omit the greater part.
He takes notice that Virgil is arraign'd for placing piety before valor, and making that piety the chief character of
his hero. I have said already from Bossu, that a poet is not oblig'd to make his hero a virtuous man; therefore, neither Homer nor Tasso are to be blam'd for giving what predominant quality they pleas'd to their first character.
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But Virgil, who design'd to form a perfect prince, and would insinuate that Augustus, whom he calls _neas in his poem, was truly such, found himself oblig'd to make him without blemish, thoroughly virtuous; and a thorough virtue both begins and ends in piety Tasso, without question, observ'd this before me, and therefore spht his hero in two; he gave
Godfrey piety, and Rinaldo fortitude, for their chief quali- ties or manners. Homer, who had chosen another moral, makes both Agamemnon and Achilles vicious; for his design was to instruct in virtue by shewing the deformity of vice. I avoid repetition of that I have said above. What follows
is translated literally from Segrais:
"Virgil had consider'd that the greatest virtues of Augus-
tus consisted in the perfect art of governing his people; which caus'd him to reign for more than forty years in great felicity. He constder'd that his emperor was valiant, civil, popular, eloquent, politic, and religious, he has given all these qualities to . ,Eneas. But, knowing that piety alone comprehends the whole duty of man towards the gods, towards his country, and towards his relations, he judg'd that this ought to be his first character, whom he would set for a pattern of perfection. In reality, they who believe that the praises which arise from valor are superior to those which proceed from any other virtues, have not constder'd
(as they ought) that valor, destitute of other virtues, cannot render a man worthy of any true esteem. That quality, which signifies no more than an intrepid courage, may be separated from many others which are good, and accom- panied with many which are ill. A man may be very valiant, and yet impious and vicious. But the same cannot be said of piety, which excludes all ill qualities, and comprehends even valor itself, with all other qualities which are good. Can we, for example, give the praise of valor to a man ,who should see his gods profan'd, and should want the courage to defend them ? To a man who should abandon his father, or desert his king in his last necessity? "
Thus far Segrais, in giving the preference to piety before valor. I will now follow him, where he considers this valor, or intrepid courage, singly in itself; and this also Virgil gives to his tF_. neas,and that in a heroical degree.
? +
Having first concluded that our poet did for the best in
taking the first character of his hero from that essential
virtue on which the rest depend, he proceeds to tell us that
in the ten years' war of Troy he was consider'd as the second
champion of his country (allowing Hector the first place);
and this, even by the confession of Homer, who took aU oc-
casions of setting up his own countrymen the Grecians, and
of undervaluing the Trojan chiefs. But Virgil (whom
Segrais forgot to cite) makes Diomede give him a higher
character for strength and courage. His testimony is this, in the Eleventh Book:
Stetlmus tela aspera eontra, Contulimusquemanus- experto credite, quantus
In elypeum assurgat quo turbine torqueat hastam. Si duo przterea tales Id_. a tuhsset
Terra vlros, ultro Inachlas vemsset ad urbes Dardauus, et versis lugeret Gr_cia fatis.
_Oulcquid apud dur',_cessatum est mcmia Troj_? , Hectons /Enezque manu wetona Graium
H_esihet in decumumvestigia retulit annum. Ambo animus,ambo mmgnes pr2stantabusarmis:
Hic pietate prior.
I give not here my translation of these verses, (tho' I think I have not 111succeeded in them,) because your Lord- ship is so great a master of the original that I have no reason to desire you should see V_rgil and me so near together. But you may please, my Lord, to take notice that the Latin author refine+ upon the Greek, and insinuates that Homer had done his hero wrong in giving the advantage of the dud to his own countryman; tho' Diomedes was manifestly the second champion of the Grecians; and Ulysses preferr'd him before Ajax, when he chose him for the companion of his nightly expedition; for he had a headpiece o{ his own, and wanted only the fortitude of another to bring him off with safety, and that he might compass his design with honor.
The French translator thus proceeds: "They who accuse . _neas for want of courage, either understand not Virgil, or have read him slightly; otherwise they would not raise an
objection so easy to be answer'd. " Hereupon he gives so many instances of the hero's valor+ that to repeat them after him would tire your Lordship, and put me to the nnnecesaary
26 DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL
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trouble of transcribing the greatest part of the three last _ne_ds In short, more could not be expected from an Amadis, a Sir Lancelot, or the whole Round Table, than he performs. Proxima quoeque merit gladw, is the perfect ac- count of a knight-errant. "If it be replied," continues Segrais, "that it was not difficult for him to undertake and achieve such hardy enterprises, because he wore enchanted arms; that accusation, in the first place, must fall on Homer, ere it can reach Virgil. " Achilles was as well provided wzth them as . _neas, tho' he was invulnerable wlthout them. And Ariosto, the two Tassos (Bernardo and Torquato), even our own Spenser, in a word, all modern poets, have copled Homer as well as Virgil: he is neither the first nor last, but in the midst of them, and therefore is safe, if they are so. "Who knows," says Segrais, "but that his fated armor was only an allegorical defense, and signified no more than that he was under the peculiar protection of the gods ? --born, as the astrologers will tell us out of Virgil, (who was well vers'd in the Chaldaean mysteries,) under the favorable in- flence of Jupiter, Venus, and the Sun. " ! But I insist not on this, because I know you believe not in such an art; tho' not only Horace and Persius, but Augustus himself, thought otherwise. But, in defense of Virgil, I dare positively say that he has been more cautious in this particular than either his predecessor or his descendants; for z'Eneas was actually wounded m the Twelfth of the z_neis, tho' he had the same godsmith to forge his arms as had Achilles. It seems he was no warluck, as the Scots commonly call such men, who, they say, are iron-free, or lead-free. Yet, after this experi- ment that his arms were not impenetrable, when he was cur'd indeed by his mother's help, because he was that day to conclude the war by the death of Turnus, the poet durst not carry the miracle too far, and restore him wholly to his former vigor; he was still too weak to overtake his enemy; yet we see with what courage he attacks Turnus, when he faces and renews the combat. I need say no more; for Vir- gil defends himself without needing my assistance, and proves his hero truly to deserve that name. He was not then a second-rate champion, as they would have him who think fortitude the first virtue in a hero. But, being beaten
? 28 DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF V'fRGIL
from this hold, they will not yet allow him to be valiant, be- cause he wept more often, as they think, than well becomes a man of courage.
In the first place, if tears are arguments of cowardice, what shall I say of Homer's hero? Shall Achilles pass for timorous because he wept, and wept on less occasions than . ,Eneas? Hereto Virgil must be granted to have excelrd his master. For once both heroes are descrlb'd lamenting their lost loves: Brlseis was taken away by force from the Grecian; Creusa was lost for ever to her husband. But Achilles went roaring along the salt sea-shore, and, like a booby, was com- plaining to his mother, when he should have reveng'd his injury by arms. iEneas took a nobler course; for, having secur'd his father and his son, he repeated all his former dangers to have found his wife, if she had been above ground. And here your Lordship may observe the address of Virgil; it was not for nothing that this passage was related with all these tender circumstances. _neas told it; Dido heard it. That he had been so affectionate a husband was no ill argu- ment to the coming dowager that he might prove as kind to her. Virgil has a thousand secret beauties, tho' I have not leisure to remark them.
Segrais, on this subject of a hero's shedding tears, observes that historians commend Alexander for weeping when he read the mighty actions of Achilles, and Julius Caesar is likewise prais'd, when, out of the same noble envy, he wept at the victories of Alexander. But, if we observe more closely, we shall find that the tears of iEneas were always on a laudable occasion. Thus he weeps out of compassion and tenderness of nature, when, in the temple of Carthage, he beholds the pictures of his friends, who sacrific'd their lives in defense of their country. He deplores the lament- able end of his pilot Palinurus, the untimely death of young Pallas his confederate, and the rest, which I omit. Yet, even for these tears, his wretched critics dare condemn him. They make . ,Eneas little better than a kind of St. Swithen
hero, always raining. One of these censors is bold enough to
argue him of cowarchce, when, in the beginning of the First
Book, he not only weeps, but trembles at an approaching storm: ?
? DEDICATION OF THE _NEIS 29 :Extcmplo _ne_e solvuntur frlgore membra:
Ingemlt, et duplices tendens ad sidera palmas, &c.
But to this I have answer'd formerly, that his fear was not for himself, but for his people. And who can give a sov- ereign a better commendation, or recommend a hero more to the affection of the reader? They were threaten'd with a tempest, and he wept; he was promts'd Italy, and therefore he pray'd for the accomphshment of that promise. All this in the beginning of a storm; therefore he shew'd the more early piety, and the quicker sense of compassion. Thus much I have urg'd elsewhere in the defense of Virgil; and, since, I have been inform'd by Mr. Moyle, a young gentle- man whom I can never sufficiently commend, that the ancients accounted drowning an accursed death; so that, if we grant him to have been afraid, he had just occasion for that fear, both in relation to himself and to his subjects. I think our adversaries can carry this argument no farther, unless they tell us that he ought to have had more confidence in the promise of the gods. But how was he assttr'd that he had understood their oracles aright? Helenus might be mis- taken; Phoebus might speak doubtfully; even his mother might flatter hlm that he might prosecute his voyage, which if it succeeded happily, he should be the founder of an em- pire. For that she herself was doubtful of his fortune is apparent by the address she made to Jupiter on his behalf; to which the god makes answer in these words:
Parce metu, Cytherea: manent immota tuorum Fata tlbl, &c.
notwithstanding which, the goddess, tho' comforted, was not assur'd; for even after this, thro' the course of the whole
_neis, she still apprehends the interest which Juno might make with Jupiter against her son. For it was a moot point in heaven, whether he could alter fate, or not. And indeed some passages in Virgil would make us suspect that he was of opinion Jupiter might defer fate, tho' he could not alter
it. For in the latter end of the Tenth Book he introduces
Juno begging for the Hfe of Turnus. and flattering her hus- band with the power of changing destinymTua, qu/ potes,
oma reflec_a_t To which he graciously answers:
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DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL
Si morapraesentislethz,tempusquecaduco Oraturjuvem, meque hoc ita ponere sentis,
Tolle fuga Turnum,atque instantlbuseripe fatis. Hactenus iudulsisse vacat. Sin altior istis
Sub precibusvema ulla latet, totumquemoveri Mutanve putas bellum,spes pascis manels.
But that he could not alter those decrees, the King of Gods himsdf confesses, in the book above cited, when he comforts Hercules for the death of Pallas, who had invok'd
his aid before he threw his lance at Turnus:
Troj_ subm,_nibusalus
Tot nati cecldere deum, quin occldit una $arpedon, mea progenies. Etlam sua Turnum Fata manent, metasquedatx pervenit ad a_n -
where he plainly acknowledges that he could not save his own son, or prevent the death which he foresaw. Of his power-_o defer the blow I once occas_onally discours'd with that excellent person Sir Robert Howard, who is better con- versant than any man that I know in the doctrine of the Stoics; and he set me rlght, from the concurrent testimony of philosophers and poets, that Jupiter could not retard the effects of fate, even for a moment. For, when I cited Virgil
as favoring the contrary opimon in that verse,
Tolle fuga Turnum, atque instantlbusenpe fatis, &c.
he replied, and, I think, . with exact judgment, that, when Jupiter gave Juno leave to withdraw Turnus from the pres- ent danger, it was because he certainly foreknew that his fatal hour was not come; that it was in destiny for Juno at that time to save him; and that himself obey'd destiny in giving her that leave
I need say no more in justification of our hero's courage, and am much deceiv'd if he be ever attack'd on this side of his
character again But he is arraign'd with more shew of reason by the ladies, who will make a numerous party against
him, for being false to love, in forsaking Dido. And I can- not much blame them; for, to say the truth, 't is an ill prece-
dent for their gallants to follow. Yet, if I can bring him of[ with flying colors, they may learn experience at her cost,
and, for her sake, avoid a cave, as the worst shelter they can
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choose from a shower of ram, especially when they have a ]over in thdr company.
In the first place, Segrals observes with much acuteness ,that they who blame _neas for his insensibility of love when he left Carthage, contradict their former accusatlon of him
for being always crying, compassionate, and effemmately sensible of those misfortunes which befell others. They give
him two contrary characters; but Virgil makes him of a piece, always grateful, always tender-hearted. But they are impudent enough to discharge themselves of this blunder, by laying the contradiction at Virgil's door. He, they say, has shewn his hero with these inconsistent characters, acknowlo edging and ungrateful, compassionate and hard-hearted, but, at the bottom, fickle and self-interested; for Dido had not only receiv'd his weather-beaten troops before she saw him, and given them her protection, but had also offer'd them an equal share in her dominion:
Vultus et his mecum pariter considere regnis ? Urbem quam statuo, vestra est.
This was an obligement never to be _orgotten; and the more to be consider'd, because antecedent to her love. That passion, 't is true, produc'd the usual effects, of generosity, gallantry, and care to please; and thither we refer them. But when she had made all these advances, it was still in his power to have refus'd them; after the intrigue of the cave (call it marriage, or enjoyment only) he was no longer free to take or leave; he had accepted the favor, and was oblig'd to be constant, if he would be grateful.
My Lord, I have set this argument in the best light I can, that the ladies may not think I write booty; and perhaps it may happen to me, as it did to Doctor Cudworth, who has rais'd such strong objections against the being of a God, and Providence, that many think he has not answer'd them. You may please at least to hear the adverse party. Segrais pleads for Virgil, that no less than an absolute command from Jupiter could excuse this insensibility of the hero, and this abrupt departure, which looks so llke extreme ingraft- tude. But, at the same time, he does wisely to remember 30u, that Virgil had made piety the first character of . _neas;
DEDICATION OF THE _NEIS
. . . . I . I Jl . . II . . . . . ___-"
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and, this being allow'd, (as I am afraid it must,) he was oblig'd, antecedent to all other considerations, to search an asylum for his gods in Italy--for those very gods, I say, who had promis'd to his race the umversal empire. Could a pious man dispense with the commands of Juptter, to satisfy his passion, or (take _t in the strongest sense) to comply with the obligations of his gratitude? Rehglon, 't is true, must have moral honesty for its groundwork, or we shall be apt to suspect its truth, but an immedmte revelation dispenses with all duties of morality. All casmsts agree that theft is a breach of the moral law; yet, if I might presume to mingle things sacred with profane, the Israelites only spoil'd the Egyptians, not robb'd them, because the propriety was trans- ferr'd by a revelation to their lawgiver. I confess Dido was a very infidel in th_s point; for she would not believe, as Virgil makes her say, that ever Jupiter would send Mer- cury on such an immoral errand. But this needs no answer,
at least no more than V_rgfl gives it:
Fata obstant; placxdasqueviri deus obstruit aures.
This notwithstanding, as Segrais confesses, he might have shewn a little more sensibility when he left her; for that had been according to his character.
But let Virgil answer for himself. He still lov'd her, and struggled with his inclinations to obey the gods:
Curaresub corde premebat,
Multa gemens, magnoque ammum labefactus amofe.
Upon the whole matter, and humanly speaking, I doubt there was a fault somewhere; and Jupiter is better able to bear the blame than either Virgil or . ,Eneas. The poet, it seems, had found it out, and therefore brings the deserting hero and the forsaken lady to meet together in the lower regions, where he excuses himself when 't is too late; and accordingly she will take no satisfaction, nor so much as hear him. Now Segrais is forc'd to abandon his defense, and ex- cuses his author by saying that the . SF. neis is an imperfect work, and that death prevented the divine poet from review- ing it; and for that reason he had condemu'd it to the fire; tho', at the same t_me, his two translators must acknowledge
HC--Vol,18---1
? DEDICATION OF THE _NEIS
that the Sixth Book is the most correct of the whole z_. neis. O, how convenient is a machine sometimes in a heroic poem[ This of Mercury is plainly one; and Virgil was constrain'd to use it here, or the honesty of his hero would be ill de- fended. And the fair sex, however, if they had the deserter m their power, would certainly have shewn him no more mercy than the Bacchanals did Orpheus: for, if too much constancy may be a fault sometunes, then want of constancy, and ingratitude after the last favor, is a crime that never will be forgiven. But of machines, more in their proper place: where I shall shew with how much judgment they have been us'd by V_rgil; and, in the mean time, pass to another article of his defense on the present subject; where, if I cannot clear the hero, I hope at least to bring off the poet ; for here I must divide their causes. Let _neas trust to his machine, which will only help to break his fall; but the address is in- comparable. Plato, who borrow'd so much from Homer, and yet concluded for the banishment of all poets, would at least have rewarded Virgil before he sent him into exile. But I go farther, and say that he ought to be acquitted, and de- serv'd, beside, the bounty of Awgustus and the gratitude of the Roman people. If, after this, the ladies will stand out, let them remember that the jury is not all agreed; for Oc- tavia was of his party, and was of the first quality in Rome; she was also present at the reading of the S_xth . _Eneid, and we know not that she condemn'd -_neas; but we are sure she presented the poet for his admirable elegy on her son Marcellus.
But let us consider the secret reasons which Virgil had for thus framing this noble episode, wherein the whole passion of love is more exactly describ'd than in any other poet. Love was the theme of his Fourth Book : and, tho' it is the shortest of the whole _nezs, yet there he has given its beginning, its progress, its traverses, and its conclusion; and had exhausted so entirely this subject, that he could resume it but very slightly m the eight ensuing books.
She was warm'd with the graceful appearance of the hero; she smother'd those sparkles out of decency; but conversa- tion blew them up into a flame. Then she was forc'd to
m_lce a confident of her whom she best might tr_st, her own HC--Vol. I_-. -Z
? $4 DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF VIRGII_
Sister, who approves the passion, and thereby augments it; then succeeds her public owning it; and, after that, the con- smnmation. Of Venus and Juno, Jupiter and Mercury, I say nothing, for they were all machining work; but, possession having cool'd his love, as it increas'd hers, she soon perceiv'd
the change, or at least grew suspicaous of a change; this sus- picion _on tum'd to jealousy, and jealousy to rage; then she disdains and threatens, and again _shumble, and intreat% and, nothing availing, despairs, curses, and at last becomes her own executioner. See here the whole process of that passion, to which nothing can be added. I dare go no farther, lest I should lose the connection of my discourse.
To love our native country, and to study its bene? t and its glory, to be interested in its concerns, is natural to all men, and is indeed our common duty. A poet makes a farther step; for, endeavoring to do honor to it, 't is allowable in him even to be partial in its cause; for he is not tied to truth, or feb ter'd'by the laws of history. Homer and Tasso are justly prais'd for choosing their heroes out of Greece and Italy; Virgil indeed made his a Trojan; but it was to derive the Romans and his own Augustus from him. But all the three poets are manifestly partial to their heroes, in favor o? their country; for Dares Phrygius reports of Hector that he was slain cowardly: . _meas, according tQ the best account, slew not Mezentius, but was slain by him; and the chronicles of Italy tell us little of that Rinaldo d'Este who conquers Jeru- salem in Tasso. He might be a champion of the Chwrch; but we know not that he was so much as present at the siege. To apply this to Virgil, he thought himself engag'd in honor to espouse the cause and quarrel of his country against Carthage. He knew he could not please the Romans better, or oblige them more to patronize his poem, than by disgracing the fotmdress of that city. He shews her ungrateful to the memory of her first husband, doting on a stranger; enjoy'd, and afterwards forsaken by him. This was the original, says he, of the immortal hatred betwixt the two rival nations. 'T is true, he colors the falsehood of . ,Eneas by an express command from Jupiter, to forsake the queen who had oblig'd him; but he knew the Romans were to be his readers, and them he brib'd, perhaps at the expense of his hero's honesty_
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but he gain'd his cause, however, as pleading before corrupt judges. They were content to see their founder false to love, for still he had the advantage of the amour: it was their enemy whom he forsook, and she might have forsaken him, if he had not got the start of her: she had already forgotten her vows to her Siclueus; and varium et ? nutalnle semper [emina is the sharpest satire, in the fewest words, that ever was made on womankand; for both the adjectives are neuter, and animal must be understood, to make them grammar. Virgil does well to put those words into the mouth of Mer- cury. Ifa god had not spoken them, geither durst he have wr:tten them, nor I translated them. Yet the deity was forc'd to come twice on the same errand; and the second time, as much a hero as _neas was, he frighted him. It seems he fear'd not Jupiter so much as Dido; for your Lordship may observe that, as much intent as he was upon his voyage, yet he still delay'd it, till the messenger was oblig'd to tell him plainly, that, if he weigh'd not anchor in the night, the queen would be with him in the morning.
Notumque furens quid femma possitmshe was injur'd; she was revengeful; she was powerful. The poet had likewise before hinted that her people were naturally perfidious; for he gives their character in their queen, and makes a proverb of Pumca tides, many
ages before it was invented.
Thus I hope, my Lord, that I have made good my promise,
and justified the poet, whatever becomes of the false knight. And sure a poet is as much privileg'd to lie as an ambassador, for the honor and interests of his country; at least as Sir
Henry Wotton has defin'd.
This naturally leads me to the defense of the famous anach-
ronism, in making JEneas and Dido contemporaries; for 't is certain that the hero liv'd almost two hundred years before the building of Carthage. One who imitates Bocaline says that Virgil was aeeus'd before Apollo for this error. The god soon found that he was not able to defend his favorite by reason, for the case was dear: he therefore gave this middle sentence, that anything might be allow'd to his son Virgil, on the accoant of his other merits; that, being a monarch, he had a dispensing power, and pardon'd him. But, that this _ecial act o/ grace might never be drawn into
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example, or pleaded by his puny successors in justification of
their ignorance, he decreed for the future, no poet should
presume to make a lady die for love two hundred years before her birth To moralize this story, Virgil is the Apollo who
has this dispensing power. His great judgment made the laws of poetry; but he never made himself a slave to them:
chronolo_, at best, is but a cobweb law, and he broke thro' it with his weight They who will imitate him wisely must choose, as he did, an obscure and a remote ? ra, where they
may invent at pleasure, and not be easily contradicted. Neither he, nor the Romans, had ever read the Bible, by which only his false computation of times can be made out against him This Segrais says in his defense, and proves it from his learned friend Bochartus, whose letter on this subject he has printed at the end of the Fourth Agneid, to which I refer your Lordship and the reader. Yet the credit of Virgil was so great that he made this fable of his own invention pass for an authentic history, or at least as credible as anything in Homer. Ovid takes it up after him, even in the
same age, and makes an ancient heroine of' Virgil's new- created Dido; dictates a letter for her, just before her death,
to the ingrateful fugitive; and, very unluckily for himself, is for measuring a sword with a man so much superior in
force to him, on the same subject. I think I may be judge of this, because I have translated both. The famous author
of the Art of Love has nothing of his own; he borrows a_[1 from a greater master in his own profession and, which is
worse, improves nothing which he finds. Nature fails him; and, being forc'd to his old shift, he has recourse to witticism. This passes indeed with his soft admirers, and gives h_m the preference to Virgil in their esteem. But let them like for themselves, and not prescribe to others; for our author needs not their admiration.
The motives that induc'd Virgil tocoin this fable I have shew'd already; and have also begun to shew that he might make this anachronism by superseding the mechanic rules of poetry, for the same reason that a monarch may dispense with or suspend his own laws, when he finds it necessary so to do, especially if those laws are not altogether fundamental. Nothing is to be call'd a fault in poetry, says Aristotle, bit
? DEDICATION OF THE _. NEIS
wliat |s aga'mst the art; therefore a man may be an admirable poet without being an exact chronologer. Shall we dare, con- tinues Segrais, to condemn Virgil for having made a fiction against the order of time, when we commend Ovid and other _oets who have made many of their fictions against the order of natare? For what else are the splendid miracles of the Metaraorphoses? Yet these are beautiful as they are related, and have also deep learmng and instructive mythologies couch'd urtder them; but to give, as Virgil does in this episode, the original cause of the long wars betwixt Rome and Car- thage, to draw truth out of fiction after so probable a manner, with so much beauty, and so much for the honor of his coun- try, was proper only to the divine wit of Maro; and Tasso, in one of his discourses, admires him for this particularly 'T is not lawful, indeed, to contradict a point of history which is known to all the world, as, for example, to make Hannibal and Scipio contemporaries with Alexander; but, in the dark recesses of antiquity, a great poet may and ought to feign such things as he finds not there, if they can be brought to embelhsh that subject which he treats. On the other side, the pains and diligence of i11poets is but thrown away when they want the genius to invent and feign agreeably. But if the fictions be delightful; (which they always are, ,f they be natural); if they be of a piece; if the beginning, the middle, and the end be in their due places, and artEully united to each other, such works can never fail of their deserv'd suc- cess. And such is Virgil's episode of Dido and . _neas ; where the sourest critic must acknowledge that, if he had depriv'd his/F. neis of so great an ornament because he found no traces of it in antiquity, he had avoided their unjast censure, but had wanted one of the greatest beauties of his poem. I shall say more of this in the next article of their charge against him, which is want of invention. In the mean time I may affirm, in honor of this episode, that it is not only now esteem'd the most pleasing entertainment of the Aineis, but was so ac- coanted in his own age, and before it was mdlow'd into that reputation which time has given it; for which I need produce no other testimony than that of Ovid, his contemporary:
Nec pars ulla magis legltur de corporetoto, Ouam non legitimo fo_derejunctus amor.
? DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL
Where, by the way, you may observe, my Lord, that Ovl"_, in those words, non legitimo foedere iunctus amor, will by no means allow it to be a lawful marriage betwixt Dido and 2Eneas. He was in banishment when he wrote those verses, which I cite from his letter to Augustus: "You, sir," saith he, "have sent me into exile for writing my Art of Love, and my wanton Elegies; yet your own poet was happy in your good graces, tho' he brought Dido and _neas into a cave, and left them there not over honestly together. May I be so bold to ask your Majesty, is it a greater fault to teach the art of unlawful love, than to shew it in the action? " Bat was Ovid, the court poet, so bad a courtier as to find no other plea to excuse himsdf than by a plain accusation of his mas- ter? Virgil confess'd it was a lawful marriage betwixt the lovers, that Juno, the goddess of matrimony, had ratified it by her presence; for it was her business to bring matters to that issue. That the ceremonies were short, we may beheve;
for Dido was not only amorous, but a widow. Mercury him- self, tho' employ'd on a quite contrary errand, yet owns it a marriage by an innuendo: pulchramque uxorius urben Ex- _trusis. He calls 2_Eneasnot only a husband, but upbraids him for being a fond husband, as the word uxomus implies. Now mark a htfle, if your Lordship pleases, why Virgil is so much concern'd to make this marriage (for he seems to be the father of the bride himself, and to give her to the bride- groom) : it was to make away for the divorce which he in- tended afterwards; for he was a finer flatterer than Ovid, and I more than conjecture that he had in his eye the divorce which not long before had pass'd betwixt the emperor and Scribonia. He drew this dimple in the cheek of . _Eneas, to prove Augustus of the same family, by so remarkable a fea- ture in the same place. Thus, as we say in oar homespun English proverb, he kill'd two birds with one stone; pleas'd the emperor, by giving him the resemblance of his ancestor, and gave him such a resemblance as was not scandalous in that age. For to leave one wife, and take another, was but a matter of gallantry at that time of day among the Romans. Neque hwc in foedera veni is the very excuse which . t_neas makes, when he leaves his lady: "I made no such bargain with you at oar marriage, to live always drudging on at
? DEDICATION OF THE 2ENEIS S9
Carthage: my business was Italy and I never made a secret of it. If I took my pleasure, had not you your share of it ? I leave you free, at my departure, to comfort yourself with the next stranger who happens to be shipwreck'd on your coast. Be as kind a hostess as you have been to me, and you can never fall of another husband. In the mean time, I call the gods to witness that I leave your shore unwillingly; for tho' Juno made the marriage, yet Jupiter commands me to forsake you. " This is the ei_ect of what he saith, when it is dishonor'd out of Latin verse into English prose. If the poet argued not aright, we must pardon him for a poor blind heathen, who knew no better morals.
I have detain'd your Lordship longer than I intended on this objection, which would indeed weigh something in a spiritual court hut I am not to defend our poet there. The next, I think, is but a cavil, tho' the cry is great against him, and hath continued from the time of Macrobius to this present age. I hinted it before. They lay no less than want of in- vention to his charge---a capital crime, I must acknowledge; for a poet is a maker, as the word signifies; and who cannot make, that is, invent, hath his name for nothing. That which makes this accusation look so strange at the first sight, is, that he has borrow'd so many things from Homer, Apollonius Rhodius, and others who preceded him. But in the first place, if invention is to be taken in sa strict a sense, that the matter of a poem must be wholly new, and that in all its parts, then $caliger hath made out, saith Segrais, that the history of Troy was no more the invention of Homer than of Virgil. There was not an old woman, or almost a child, but had it in their mouths, before the Greek poet or his friends digested it into this admirable order in which we read it. At this rate, as Solomon hath told us, there is nothing new beneath the sun. Who then can pass for an inventor, if Homer, as well as Virgil, must be depriv'd of that glory ? Is Versailles the less a new building, because the architect of that palace hath imitated others which were built before it? Walls, doors and windows, apartments, ot_ces, rooms of convenience and mag- nificence, are in all great houses. So descriptions, figures, fables, and the rest, must be in all heroic poems; they are tl_ common materials of _etry, furaish'd from the mag_
? 40 DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL
zine of nature; every poet hath as much right to them as every man hath to air or water. Qmd prohibetis aquas? Usus commu_is aquarum est. But the argument of the work, that is to say, its principal action, the economy and disposi- tion of it; these are the things which dtstinguish copies from
originals. The poet who borrows nothing from others is yet to be born; he and the Jews' Messias will come together. There are parts of the iEne_s which resemble some parts both of the Ilias and of the Odysses; as, for example, . _. neas de- scended into hell, and Ulysses had been there before him; ! F. neas lov'd Dido, and Ulysses lov'd Calypso: in few words, Virgil hath imitated Homer's Odysses in his first six books, and in his six last the Ilias. But from hence can we infer that the two poets write the same history ? Is there no inven- tion in some other parts of Virgil's . _Eneis? The disposition of so many various matters, is not that his own? From what book of Homer had Virgil his episode of Nisus and Euryalus, of Mezentius and Lansus ? From whence did he borrow his design of bringing . _neas into Italy? of establishing the Roman empire on the foundations of a Trojan colony ? to say nothing of the honor he did his patron, not only in his de- scent from Venus, but in making him so like him in his best features, that the goddess might have mistaken Augustus for her son. He had indeed the story from common fame, as Homer had his from the Egyptian priestess, iF. neadum genetrlx was no more unknown to Lucretius than to him. But Lucretms taught him not to form his hero, to give him piety or valor for his manners, and both in so eminent a de- gree, that, having done what was possible for man, to save his king and country, his mother was forc'd to appear to him, and restrain his fury, which hurried him to death in their
revenge. But the poet made his piety more successful; he brought off his father and his son; and his gods witness'd to his devotion, by putting, themselves under his protection, to be replae'd by him in their promis'd Italy. Neither the invention nor the conduct of this great action were owing to Homer or any other poet. 'T is one thing to copy, and an- other thing to imitate from nature. The copier is that servile imitator, to whom Horace gives no better a name than that of _,irn_l; he will not so much as allow him to be a man.
? DEDICATION OF THE . _NEIS 41
Raphael imitated nature;
pieces imitate but him,
They translate him, as I
as I of Virgil. There is
of Raphael; for, tho' the
it was his own. Ulysses travel'd; so did . _neas: but neither of them were the first travelers; for Cain went into the land of Nod before they were born, and neither of the poets ever heard of sucI7 a man. If Ulysses had been kill'd at Troy, yet _neas must have gone to sea, or he could never have aro riv'd in Italy. But the designs of the two poets were as dif- ferent as the courses of their heroes; one went home, and the other sought a home. To return to my first similitude: suppose ApeIIes and Raphael had each of them painted a burning Troy, might not the modern painter have succeeded as well as the ancient, tho' neither of them had seen the town on fire ? for the draughts of both were taken from the ideas which they had of nature. Cities had been burnt before either of them were in being. But, to close the simile as I began it, they would not have design'd it after the same manner: Apelles would have distinguish'd Pyrrhus from the rest of all the Grecians, and shew'd him forcing his en-
,trance into Priam's palace; there he had set him in the fair- est light, and given him the chief place of all his figures; because he was a Grecian, and he would do honor to his country. Raphael, who was an Italian, and descended from the Trojans, would have made 2_neas the hero of his piece; and perhaps not with his father on his back, his son in one hand, his bundle of gods in the other, and his wife follow- ing; for an act of piety is not half so graceful in a picture as an act of courage: he would rather have drawn him kill- ing Androgens, or some other, hand to hand; and the blaze of the fires should have darted full upon his face, to make him conspicuous amongst his Trojans. This, I think, is a just comparison betwixt the two poets, in the conduct of their several designs. Virgil cannot be said to copy Homer; the Grecian had only the advantage of writing first. If it be urg'd that I have granted a resemblance in some parts, yet therein Virgil has excell'd him. For what are the tears of Calypso for being left, to the fury and death of Dido?
they who copy one of Raphael's
for his work is their original. do Virgil; and fall as short of him, a kind of invention in the imitation thing was in nature, yet the idea of
? 42 DRYDEn'S TRAI_SLATIOI_ OF _IRGII_
Where is there the whole process of her passion and all its violent effects to be found, in the languishing eplaode of the Odyssey? If this be to copy, let the critics shew us the same dispositlon, features, or coloring, in their original. The like may be said of the descent to hell, which was not of Homer's invention neither; he had it from the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. But to what end did Ulysses make that journey? /Eneas undertook it by the express commandment of his father's ghost: there he was to shew him all the succeeding heroes of his race, and, next to Romulus (mark, if you please, the address of Virgil,) his own patron, Augustus C_sar. Anehlses was likewise to instruct him how to man-
age the Italian war, and how to conclude it with his honor; that is, in other words, to lay the foundations of that empire which Augustus was to govern. This is the noble invention of elf author; but it hath been copied by so many sign- post daubers, that now 't is grown fulsome, rather by their want of skill than by the commonness.
In the last place, I may safely grant that, by reading Homer, Virgil was taught to imitate his invention; that is, to imitate like him; which is no more than if a painter studied Raphael, that he might learn to design after his manner. And thus I might imitate Virgil, if I were capable of writing an heroic poem, and yet the invention be my own; but I should endeavor to avoid a servile copying. I would not give the same story under other names, with the same characters, in the same order, and with the same sequel; for every common reader to find me out at the first sight for a plagiary, and cry: "This I read before in Virgil, in a better language, and in better verse. This is like Merry Andrew on the low rope, copying lubberly the same tricks which his master is so dext'rously performing on the high. "
I will tro_ble yore" Lordship but with one objection more, which I know not whether I found in Le F_vre, or Valois; but I am sure I have read it in another French critic, when1
I will not name, becaur_ I think it is not much for his repu- tation. Virgil, in the heat of action--suppose, for example, in describing the fury of his hero in a battle, when he is en-
deavoring to raise our concernments to the highest pitch-- turns short on the st_dden into some similitude, which diverts,
? DEDICATION OF THE 2ENEIS 43
say they, your attention from the main subject, and mrs- spends it on some tnvlal image. He pours cold water into the caldron, when his business is to make it bml.
This accusation is general against all who would be thought heroic poets; but I think it touches Virgil less than any. He is too great a master of hts art, to make a blot which may so easily be hit. Simihtudes, as I have satd, are not for tragedy, which is all violent, and where the passions are in a perpetual ferment; for there they deaden where they should ammate; they are not of the nature of dialogue, un- less in comedy: a metaphor is almost all the stage can suffer, which is a kind of stmtlitude comprehended in a word. But this figure has a contrary effect in heroic poetry; there 't is employ'd to raise the admiration, which is its proper busi- ness; and admiration is not of so vtolent a nature as fear or hope, compassion or horror, or any concernment we can have ffor such a person on the stage. Not but I confess that simili- _des and descriptions, when drawn into an unreasonable length, must needs nauseate the reader. Once, I remember, and but once, Virgil makes a similitude of fourteen lines; and his description of Fame is about the same number. He is blam'd for both; and I doubt not but he would have con- tracted them, had he hv'd to have review'd his work; but faults are no precedents. This I have observ'd of his simili- tudes in general, that they are not plae'd, as our unobserving critics tell us, in the heat of any action, but commonly in its dechning When he has warm'd us in his description as much as possibly he can, then, lest that warmth should languish, he renews it by some apt similitude, which illus- trates his subject, and yet palls not his audience. I need give yoar Lordship but one example of this kind, and leave the rest to your observation, when next you review the whole _nds in the original, unblemish'd by my rude translation. 'T is in the First Book, where the poet describes Neptune composing the ocean, on which . JEolus had rais'd a tempest without his permission. He had already chidden the rebellious winds for obeying the commands of their usurping master; he had warn'd them from the seas; he had beaten down the billows with his mace, dispell'd the clouds, restor'd the stm- shine, while Triton and Cymothoe were heaving the ships
? 44 DRY'DEN'S TRAI_SLATION OF VIRGIL
from off the quicksands, before the poet would offer at &
similitude for illustration:
Ae, veluti magno in populo cure szpe coorta est SedRto, smvttque amrms ignobtle vulgus,
Jamque faces et saxa volant; furor arma mmtstrat? Turn, pietate gravem ac merttts sx forte vlrum quem
Conspexere, Ille regit
$2c cunctus Prosplc_ens
silent, arrectisque aurlbus adstant;
Flectit equos,
dictts animos, et pelagi cemdit
pectora fragor,
gemtor cceloque
curruque volans dat
mulcet.
_equora postquam
aperto
lora secundo.
This is the first similitude which V_rgil makes in this poem, and one of the longest in the whole; for which reason I the
rather cite it. While the storm was in its fury, any allusion
had been improper; for the poet could have compar'd it to
nothing more impetuous than itself; consequently he could have made no illustration. If he could have illustrated, it
had been an ambitious ornament out of season, and would have diverted our concernment, nunc non erat hisce locus;
and therefore he deferr'd it to its proper place.
These are the criticisms of most moment which have been
made against the ,,F. neis by the ancients or moderns. As for the particular exceptions against this or that passage, Macro- bius and Pontanus have answer'd them already. If I desir'd to appear more learned than I am, it had been as easy for me to have taken their objections and solutions, as it is for a country parson to take the expositions of the fathers out of Junius and Tremellius, or not to have nam'd the authors from whence I had them; for so Rumus, otherwise a most jttdicious commentator on Virgil's works, has us'd Pontanus, his greatest benefactor; of whom he is very silent; and I do not remember that he once cites him,
What fotlows next is no objection; for that implies a fault: and it had been none in Virgil. if he had extended the time of his action beyond a year. At least Aristotle has set
no precise limits to it. Homer's, we know, was within two months: Tasso, I am sure, exceeds not a summers and, if I examln'd him, perhaps he might be redue'd into a much less compass. Bossn leavo_ it doubtful whether Virgil's action were within the _,earj or took up some months beyondit.
invectus
? DEDICATION OF THE _NEIS 45
Indeed, the whole dispute is of no more concernment to the common reader, than it is to a plowman, whether February this year had 28 or 29 days in it. But, for the satisfaction of the more curious, of which number I am sure your Lordship
is one, I will translate what I think convenient out of Se-
grals, whom perhaps you have not read; for he has made it
highly probable that the action of the _neis began in the
spring, and was not extended beyond the autumn. And we
have lmown campaigns that have begun sooner and have ended later.
Ronsard, and the rest whom Segrais names, who are of opinion that the achon of this poem rakes up almost a year and hadf, ground their calculations thus. A_chises died in Sicily at the end of winter, or beginning of the spring. /Eneas, immediately after the interment of his father, puts to sea for Italy. He is surpris'd by the tempest describ'd in the beginning of the First Book; and there it is that the scene of the poem opens, and where the action must com- mence. He is driven by this storm on the coasts of Afric; he stays at Carthage all that summer, and almost all the winter following, sets sa_1again for Italy just before the be- ginning of the spring, meets with contrary winds, and makes Sicily the second time. This part of the action completes the year. Then he celebrates the anniversary of his father's funerals, and shortly after arrives at Cumes; and from thence his time is taken up in his first treaty with Latinus, the overture of the war, the siege of his camp by Turnus, his going for succors to relieve it, his return, the raising of the siege by the first battle z the twelve days' truce, the second battle, the assault of Laurentum, and the single fight with Turnus; all which, they say, cannot take up less than four or five months more; by which account we cannot suppose the entire action to be contain'd in a much less compass than a year and half.
Segrais reckons another way; 3nd his computation is not condemn'd by the learned Ruams, who compird and publish'd the commentaries on our poet which we call the Dauphin's Virgil
He allows the time of year when Anchises died to be in the latter end of winter, or the beginning of the spring: he
? 46 DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL acknowledges that, when . _neas is first seen at sea after-
wards, and is driven by the tempest on the coast of Afric, is the time when the action is naturally to begin: he con- fesses, farther, that xEneas left Carthage in the latter end of winter; for Dido tells him in express terms, as an argu-
ment for his longer stay:
Qu_netiam hlbernomoliris sldereclassem.
BUt, whereas Ronsard's followers suppose that when xEneas had buried his father, he set sail immediately for Italy, (tho' the tempest drove him on the coast of Carthage,) Segrais will by no means allow that supposition, but thinks it much more probable that he remain'd in Sicily till the midst of July, or the beginning of August; at which time he places the first appearance of his hero on the sea, and there opens the action o_ the poem. From which beginning to the death of Turnus, which concludes the action, there need not be sup- pos'd above ten months of intermediate time: for, arriving at Carthage in the latter end of summer, staying there the w_nter following, departing thence in the very beginning of the spring, making a short abode in Sicily the second time, landing in Italy, and making the war, may be reasonably jHdg'd the business but of ten months. To this the Ronsar- dians reply, that, having been for seven years before in quest of Italy, and having no more to do in Sicily than to inter his fatherMafter that office was perform'd, what remain'd for him, but, without delay, to pursue his first adventure? To which Segrais answers, that the obsequies of his father, according to the rites of the Greeks and Romans, would de- tain him for many days; that a longer time must be taken up in the refitting of his ships after so tedious a voyage, and in refreshing his weather-beaten soldiers on a friendly coast. These indeed are but suppositions on both sides; yet those of Segrais seem better grounded. For the feast of Dido, when she entertain'd _neas first, has the appearance of a summer's night, which seems already almost ended when he begins his story; therefore the love was made in autumn: the hunting follow'd properly, when the heats of that scorch-
ing country were declining; the winter was pass'd in jollity, as the season and their love reqmdr'd; and he left her in the
? DEDICATION OF THE zENEIS 47
latter end of winter, as is already prov'd. This opinion is fortified by the arrival of _neas at the mouth of Tiber, which marks the season of the spring; that season being perfectly describ'd by the singing of the birds, saluting the dawn, and by the beauty of the place, which the poet seems to have painted expressly m the Sev_th _gnesd:
Aurora in rosels fu|gebat lutea blgis,
Cure ventJ posuere ; vari_ circumque supraque Assuet_ rlpis volucreset flurnmisalveo . _thera mulcebantcantm.
The remainder of the action requlr'd but three months more: for, when )Eneas went for succor to the Tuscans, he found their army in a readiness to march, and wanting only a commander; so that, according to this calculation, the _F,neis takes not up above a year complete, and may be com- prehended in less compass.
This, amongst other circumstances treated more at large by Segrais, agrees with the rising of Orion, which caus'd the tempest describ'd in the beginning of the First Book.
By some passeges in the Pastorals, but more particularly in the Georgics, our poet is found to be an exact astronomer, according to the knowledge of that age. Now Ilioneus (whom Virgil twice employs in embassies, as the best speaker of the Trojans) attributes that tempest to Orion, in his speech to Dido:
Cure subito assurgens fluctu nimbosus Orion.
He must mean either the heliacal or achronlcal rising of that sign. The hellacal rising of a constellation is when it comes from under the rays of the san and begins to appear before daylight. The achronical rising, on the contrary, is when it appears at the dose of day, and in opposition of the sun's diurnal course.
The heliacal rising of Orion is at present computed to be about the sixth of July; and about that time it is that he either causes or presages tempests on the seas.
Segrais has observ'd farther, that, when Anna counsels
Dido to stay . 'Eneas during the winter, she speaks also of Orion:
Dum pelago des_evlthiems, et aquorasOrion.
? 48 DRYI)EN_S TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL
tf therefore Ilioneus, according to oar supposition, under- stand the heliacal rising of Orion, Anna must mean the achronical, which the d,fferent epithets given to that con- stellation seem to manifest. Ihoneus calls him ,irabosus; Anna, aquonus. He is tempestuous in the summer, when he rises heliacallg and rainy in the winter, when he rises achronically. Your Lordship will pardon me for the fre- quent repetition of these cant words, whtch I could not avoid in this abbreviation of Segrals, who, I think, deserves no little commendaUon in th,s new criticism.
I have yet a word or two to say of V,rgil's machines, from
my own observation of them. He has imitated those of
Homer, but not copied them. It was estabhsh'd long before
this time, in the Roman religion as well as in the Greek, that
there were gods; and both nations, for the most part, wor-
ship'd the same deities; as did also the Trojans, from whom
the Romans, I suppose, would rather be thought to derive
the rites of their religion than from the Grecians; because
they thought themselves descended from them. Each of
those gods had his proper office, and the chief of them their
particular attendants. Thus Jupiter had in propriety Gany-
mede and Mercury, and Juno had Ins. It was not for Virgil then to create new ministers; he must take what he found in
his religion. It cannot therefore be said that he borrow'd them from Homer, any more than Apollo, Diana, and the rest, whom he uses as he finds occasion for them, as the Grecian poet did; but he invents the occasions for which he uses them. Venus, after the destruction of Troy, had gain'd Nepttme entirely to her party; therefore we find him busy in the beginning of the . _.