No More Learning

At the end of eleven years Virgil had written the whole of the ",_neid;' and planned to devote three more to its final re'vision But this revision was never accomphshed, for returning from Athene w_th Augustus in B. C. zg, he was seined with illness and died on Sep- tember zz. He was buried at Naples, where his tomb guas long a placeof relsgious pilgrimage.
3
? 4 INTRODUCTORY NOTE
The modern appredahon of the "Ihad" and the #Odyssey" has
tended to carry with it a deprec,ation of the "A_neut,'" the spirit of which appeals less forcibly to the taste of our time. But it is foolish to lose sight o[ the splendor of a poet who, [or nearly two thousand years, has been one of the most powerful factors m European culture. "The concurrent testimony of the most refined minds of all timem," says one of the finest of h_s critics, "marks h,m out as one of the greatest masters of the language whwh touches the heart or moves the manher sens:b;hties, who has ever bred. A mature and mellow truth of sentiment, a conformsty to the deeper experiences of life sn every age, a fine humamty as well as a generous elevation of feehng, and some magical charm of music in hss words, have enabled them to _erve many m;nds m many ages as a symbol of some swelhng thought or overmastermg emotson, the force and meamng of which they could scarcely define to themselves "
The subtler elements of the exqmsste style of Vwgzl no tracm- lator can ever hope to reproduce, but Dryden was a master of Enghsh versification, and the content of V_rg_l's epw _s here rendered _n wgorous and nervous couplels. "Desptle man. ? , revoluhons of pubhc taste,'" says Professor Noyes, Dryden's latest editor, "Dryden's Virgil shll rema,n_ prachcally ztnthout a r,val as the standard translat*on of the greatest Roman poet; the only one that, like tzvo or three vers, ons of Homer. has become an English classic "
lJ_'o'den's "Dedication" is an excellent example of hzs prose style, and gives an interesting view o? lhe method and slandpotnt oI the greatest of English seventeenth century critics.
? TO THE
MOST HONORABLE
JOHN, LORD MARQUIS OF NORMANBY
EARL OF MULGRAVE, &C.
AND KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER
HEROIC poem, truly such, is undoubtedly the great- est work which the soul of man is capable to per- form. The design of it is to form the mind to he-
roic virtue by example 'T is convey'd in verse, that it may delight, while it instructs: the action of it is always one, entire, and great. The least and most trivial episodes, or underactions, which are interwoven in it, are parts either necessary or convenient to carry on the main design ; either so necessary, that, without them, the poem must be imper- fect, or so convenient, that no others can be imagln'd more suitable to the place in which they are There is nothing to be left void in a firm building; even the cavities ought not to be fill'd with rubbish, (which is of a perishable kind, de- structive to the strength,) but with brick or stone, tho' of less pieces, yet of the same nature, and fitted to the cran- nies Even the least portions of them must be of the epic kind: all things must be grave, majestical,-and sublime; nothing of a foreign nature, like the trifling no_,els which Ariosto and others have inserted in their poems; by which the reader is misled into another sort of pleasure, opposite to that which is design'd in an epic poem. One raises the soul, and hardens it to virtue; the other softens it again, and unbends it into vice. One conduces to the poet's aim, the completing of his work, which he is driving on, laboring and hast'ning in every line; the other slackens his pace, 5
? 6 DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL
diverts him from his way, and locks him up, likl a knlghto errant, in an enchanted castle, when he should be pursuing his first adventure. Statius, as Bossu has well observ'd, was ambttlous of trying his strength with his master Virgil, as Virgil had before tried his with Homer. The Grecian gave the two Romans an example, in the games which were cele- brated at the funerals of Patroclus. V_rgil imltated the in- vention of Homer, but chang'd the sports. But both the Greek and Latin poet took their occasions from the sub- ject; tho' to confess the truth, they were both ornamental, or at best convenient parts of it, rather than of necessity arising from it. Statms, who, thro' his whole poem, is noted for want of conduct and judgment, instead of staying, as he might have done, for the death of Capaneus, Hippomedon,
Tydeus, or some other of his seven champions, (who are heroes all alike), or more properly for the tragical end of the-two brothers, whose exequies the next successor had lei- sure to perform when the siege was rais'd, and in the in- terval betwixt the poet's first action and his second, went out of his way, as it were on prepense malice, to commit a fault. For he took his opportumty to kill a royal infant by the means of a serpent (that author of all evil), to make way for those funeral honors which he intended for him. Now if th_s innocent had been of any relation to his Theba_? ; if he had either farther'd or hinder'd the taking of the town; the poet might have found some sorry excuse at least, for detaining the reader from the promis'd siege. On these tehns, this Capaneus of a poet ingag'd his two immortal predecessors; and his success was answerable to his en- terprise.
If this economy must be observ'd in the minutest parts of an epic poem, which, to a common reader, seem to be detach'd from the body, and almost independent of it; what soul, tho' sent into the world with great advantages of na- ture, cultivated with the liberal arts and sciences, conver- sant with histories of the dead, and enrich'd with observa- tions of the living, can be suifcient to inform the whole body of so great a work? I touch here but transiently, ,without any strict method, on some few of those many rules _f imitating nature which Aristotle drew from Homer's
? DEDICATION OF THE IENEIS 7
Iliads and Odysses, and which he fitted to the drama; fur- nishing himself also with observations from the practice of the theater when it flourish'd under 2Eschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles: for the original of the stage was from the epic poem. Narration, doubtless, preceded acting, and gave laws to it; what at first was told artfully,-was, in process of time, represented gracefully to the sight and hearing Those episodes of Homer which were proper for the stage, the poets amplified each into an action; out of his limbs they form'd their bodies; what he had contracted, they en- larg'd; out of one Hercules were made infinite of pigmies, yet all endued with human souls; for from him, their great creator, they have each of them the divine partlculara aure. They flow'd from him at first, and are at last resolv'd into him. Nor were they only animated by him, but their meas- ure and symmetry was owing to him. His one, entire, and great action was copied by them according to the propor- tions of the drama. If he finish'd his orb within the year, it suflic'd to teach them, that their action being less, and being also less diversified with incidents, their orb, of consequence, must be circumscrib'd in a less compass, which they reduc'd within the limits either of a natural or an artificial day; so that, as he taught them to amplify what he had shorten'd, by the same rule, applied the contrary way, he taught them to shorten what he had amplified. Tragedy is the miniature of human life; an epic poem is the draught at length. Here, my Lord, I must contract also; for, before I was aware, I was almost running into a long digression, to prove that there is no such absolute necessity that the time of a stage action should so strictly be confin'd to twenty-four hours as never to exceed them, for which Aristotle contends, and the Grecian stage has practic'd. Some longer space, on some occasions, I think, may be allow'd, especially for the English theater, which requires more variety of incidents than the French. Corneille himself, after long practice, was inclin'd to thi. l? that the time allotted by the ancients was too short to raise and finish a great action: and better a mechanic rule were stretch'd or broken, than a great beauty were omitted, To raise, and afterwards to calm the passions, to purge the souls from pride, by the examples of human miseries, which
? 8 DRYD_. N'S TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL
befall the greatest; in few words, to expel arrogance, and introduce compassion, are the great effects of tragedy; great, I must confess, if they were altogether as true as they are pompous. But are habits to be mtroduc'd at three hours' warning? Are radical diseases so suddenly remov'd? A mountebank may promise such a _:ure, but a skilful physi- cian will not undertake it. An epic poem is not in so much haste; it works leisurely; the changes which _t makes are slow; but the cure is likely to be more perfect. The effects of tragedy, as I sa_d, are too violent to be lasting If it be answer'd that, for this reason, tragedies are often to be seen, and the dose to be repeated, thls is tacitly to confess that there is more virtue in one heroic poem than in many trag- edies. A man is humbled one day, and his pride returns the next. Chymical medicines are observ'd to relieve oft'net than to cure; for 't is the nature of spirits to make swift impressions, but not deep. Galenical decoctions, to which I may properly compare an epic poem, have more of body in them; they work by their substance and their weight. It is
one reason of Artstofle's to prove that tragedy is the more noble, because it turns in a shorter compass; the whole action being circumscrib'd within the space of four-and-twenty hours. He might prove as well that a mushroom is to be preferr'd before a peach, because it shoots up in the compass of a night. A chariot may be driven round the pillar in less space than a large machine, because the bulk is not so great. Is the Moon a more noble planet than Saturn, be- cause she makes her revolution in less than thirty days, and he in little less than thirty years ? Both their orbs are in proportion to their several magnitudes; and consequently the quickness or slowness of their motion, and the time of their circumvolutions, is no argument of the greater or less perfection. And, besides, what virtue is there in a tragedy which is not contain'd in an epic poem, where pride is humbled, virtue rewarded, and vice punish'd; and those more amply treated than the narrowness of the drama can admit ? The shining quality of an epic hero, his magnanimity, his constancy, his patience, his piety, or whatever character- istical virtue his poet gives him, raises first our admiration. We are naturally prone to imitate what we admire; and fre-
? DEDICATION OF THE _NEIS 9 quent acts produce a habit. If the hero's chief quality be
vicious, as, for example, the choler and obstinate desire of vengeance in Achilles, yet the moral is instructive: and, be- sides, we are inform'd in the very proposition of the Ilmd_ thatthisangerwas pernicioust;hatit broughta thousand illosntheGreciancamp ThccourageofAchilleisspro- pos'dto imitationo,t hisprideand disobediencteohisgen- eral,norhisbrutalcruelttyohisdeadenemy,nor thesdHng hisbodytohisfather. We abhortheseactionswhilewe readthem;and what we abhorwe neverimitateThe poet onlyshewsthem,likerocksorquicksandst,obe shunn'd.
By thisexamplethecritichsaveconcludedthatitisnot
necessartyhemannersoftheheroshouldbe virtuous. They
arepoeticalgloyod,iftheyareof a piece:tho'w,here a char-
acterof perfecvtirtueissetbeforeus,'tismore lovelyf;or therethewholeheroistobe imitated. Thisisthe_neas
ofourauthor;thisisthatideaofperfectioinan epicpoem whichpaintersand statuariehsave onlyintheirminds,and whichno handsareabletoexpress. Thescarethebeauties of a god in a human body. When the pictureof Achilles isdrawn intragedyh,e istakenwiththosewarts,and moles, and hard featuresb,y thosewho represenhtim on thestage, orheisnomoreAchillesf;orhiscreatorH,omer,hasso describ'hdim. Yet eventhushe appearsa perfechtero,tho' an imperfectcharacteorf virtue. Horace paintshim after Homcr,anddeliverhsimtobecopiedonthestagewithall thoseimperfectionsT. hereforetheyareeithernotfaultisn a heroicpoem,or faultcsommon tothedrama. Afterall, on the whole meritsof the cause,itmust be acknowledg'd thattheepicpoem ismore forthemanners,and tragedy forthepassions. The passionsa,s I have said,areviolent; and acutedistempersreqtdrcmedicinesof a strongand speedy operation. Ill habits of the mind are like chronical diseases, to be corrected by degrees, and cur'd by alteratives; wherein, tho' purges are sometimes necessary, yet diet, good air, and moderate exercise have the greatest part. The matter being thus stated, it will appear that both sorts of poetry are of use for their proper ends. The stage is more active; the epic poem works at greater leisure, yet is active too, when need requires; for dialogue is imitated by the
? 10 DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL
drama from the more active parts of it. One puts off a fit, like the quinqui_a, and relieves us only for a time; the other roots out the distemper, and gives a healthful habit. The sun enlightens and cheers us, dispels fogs, and warms the ground with his daily beams, but the corn is sow'd, increases, is ripen'd, and is reap'd for use in process of time, and in its proper season. I proceed from the greatness of the action to the digmty of the actors; I mean to the persons employ'd in both poems. There likewise tragedy will be seen to bor- row from the epopee; and that which borrows is always of less dignity, because it has not of its own. A subject, 't is true, may lend to his sovereign, but the act of borrowing makes the king inferior, because he wants, and the subject supplies. And suppose the persons of the drama wholly fabulous, or of the poet's invention, yet heroic poetry gave him-the examples of that invention, because it was first, and Homer the common father of the stage. I know not of any one advantage which tragedy can boast above heroic poetry, but that it is represented to the view, as well as read, and instructs in the closet, as well as on the theater. This is an uncontended excellence, and a chief branch of its prerogative; yet I may be allow'd to say, without partiality, that herein the actors share the poet's praise. Your Lord- ship knows some modern tragedies which are beautiful on the stage, and yet I am confident you would not read them. Tryphon the stationer complains they are seldom ask'd for in his shop. The poet who flourish'd in the scene is damn'd in the ruelle; nay more, he is not esteem'd a good poet by those who see and hear his extravagances with delight. They are a sort of stately fustian, and lofty childishness. Nothing but nature can give a sincere pleasure; where that is not imitated, 't is grotesque painting; the fine woman ends in a fish's tail.
I might also add that many things which not only please, but are real beauties in the reading, would appear absurd upon the stage; and those not only the speciosa rairacula, as Horace calls them, of transformations, of Scylla, Antiphates, _d the L,zstrygons, which cannot be represented even in operas; but the prowess of Achilles or 2Eneas would appear
ridiculous in our dwarf heroes of the theater. ,We can be- L
? DEDICATION OF THE _NEIS 11 lieve they routed armies, in Homer or in Virgil ; but ne Her-
cules contra duos in the drama. I forbear to instance in many things which the stage cannot, or ought not to repre- sent; for I have said already more than I intended on this
subject, and should fear It might be turn'd against me, that I plead for the preeminence of epic poetry because I have taken some pains in translating Virgil, if this were the first time that I had deliver'd my opinion in this dispute. But I have more than once already maint_in'd the rights of my two masters against their rivals of the scene, even while I wrote tragedies myself, and had no thoughts of this present undertaking. I submit my opinion to your judgment, who are better quahfied than any man I know to decide this con- troversy. You come, my Lord, instructed in the cause, and needed not that I should open it. Your Essay of Poetry, which was pubhsh'd without a name, and of which I was not honor'd with the confidence, I read over and over witk much delight, and as much mstructmn, and, without flatter- ing you, or making myself more moral than I am, not with- out some envy. I was loth to be in_orm'd how an epic poem should be written, or how a tragedy should be contriv'd and manag'd, in better verse, and with more judgment, than I could teach others. A native of Parnassus, and bred up in the studies of its fundamental laws, may receive new lights from his contemporaries; but 't is a grudging kind of praise which he gives his benefactors. He is more oblig'd than he is willing to acknowledge; there is a tincture of malice in his commendations; for where I own I am taught, I confess my want of knowledge. A judge upon the bench may, out of good nature, or at least interest, encourage the pleadings of a puny counselor; but he does not willingly commend his brother sergeant at the bar, especially when he controls his law, and exposes that ignorance which is made sacred by his place. I gave the unknown author his due commenda- tion, I must confess; but who can answer for me and for the rest of the poets who heard me read the poem, whether we should not have been better pleas'd to have seen our own names at the bottom of the title-page? Perhaps we com- mended it the more, that we might seem to be above the
censure. We are naturally displeas'd with an unknown I
? 12 DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL
critic, as the ladies are with the lampooner, because we are bitten in the dark, and know not where to fasten our re- venge. But great excellencies will work their way thro' all sorts of opposltton I applauded rather out of decency than affection, and was ambitious, as some yet can witness, to be acquainted with a man with whom I had the honor to con- verse, and that almost daily, for so many years together. Heaven knows if I have heartily forgiven you this deceit. You extorted a praise which I should willingly have given, had I known you. Nothing had been more easy than to com- mend a patron of a long standmg. The world would join with me, if the encomtums were just; and, if unjust, would excuse a grateful flatterer. But to come anonymous upon me, and force me to commend you against my interest, was not altogether so fatr, give me leave to say, as it was pohtic;
for b2( concealing your quahty, you might clearly understand how your work succeeded, and that the general approbation was given to your merit, not your titles. Thus, hke Apelles, you stood unseen behind your own Venus, and receiv'd the praises of the passing multitude; the work was commended, not the author; and I doubt not this was one of the most pleasing adventures of your life.
I have detain'd your Lordship longer than I intended in this dispute of preference betwixt the epic poem and the drama, and yet have not formally answer'd any of the argu- ments which are brought by Artstotle on the other side, and set in the fairest light by Dacier. But I suppose, without lookmg on the book, I may have touch'd on some of the ob- jections; for, in this address to your Lordship, I design not a treatise of heroic poetry, but write in a loose epistolary way, somewhat tending to that subject, after the example of Horace, in his First Epistle of the Second Book, to Augustus C,_. sar, and of that to the Pisos, which we call his Art of Poetry; in both of which he observes no method that I can trace, whatever Scaliger the Father or Heinsius may have seen or rather think they had seen. I have taken up, laid down, and resum'd as often as I pleas'd, the same subject; and this loose proceeding I shall use thro' all this prefatory dedication. Yet all this while I have been sailing with some side wind or other toward the point I propos'd in
? DEDICATION OF THE _N_IS 13
the beginning, the greatness and excellency of an heroic poem, with some of the difficulties which attend that work. The comparison, therefore, which I made betwixt the epopee and the tragedy was not altogether a digression; for 't is con- cluded on all hands that they are both the masterpieces of
human wit.
In the mean time, I may be bold to draw this corollary
from what has been already said, that the file of heroic poets is very short; all are not such who have assum'd that lofty title in ancient or modern ages, or have been so esteem'd by their partial and ignorant admirers.
There have been but one great Ilias, and one ,_Eneis, in so many ages. The next, but the next with a long interval be-
twixt, was the Jeruadem: I mean not so much in dtstance of time, as in excellency. After these three are enter'd, some Lord Chamberlain should be appointed, some critic of authority should be set before the door, to keep out a crowd of little poets, who press for admission, and are not of quality. Mmvius would be deaf'ning your Lordship's ears wtth his
Fortunam Prtami cantabo, et noblle bellum--
mere fustian, as Horace would tell you from behind, without pressing forward, and more smoke than fire. Pulci, Boiardo, and Ariosto would cry out: "Make room for the Italian poets, the descendants of Virgal in a right line" Father Le Moine, with his Saint Louis; and Scuddry with his Alaric: "for a godly l_ng and a Gothic conqueror;" and Chapeaain would take it ill that his Maid should be refus'd a place with Helen and Lavinia. Spenser has a better plea for his Fairy Queen, had his action been finish'd, or had been one; and Milton, if the Devil had not been his hero, instead of Adam; if the giant had not foil'd the knight, and driven htm out of his stronghold, to wander thro' the world with his lady errant; and if there had not been more machining per- sons than human in his poem. After these, the rest of our English poets shall not be mention'd. I have that honor for them which I ought to have; but, if they are worthies, they are not to be rank'd amongst the three whom I have nam'd, and who are establish'd in their reputation. . _-
? |4 DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL
Before I quitted the comparison betwixt epic poetry and tragedy, I should have acquainted my judge with one ad-
vantage of the former over the latter, which I now casually remember out of the preface of Segrais before his transla- tion of the . /Eneis, or out of Bossu, no matter which. The style of the heroic poem is, and ought to be, more lofty than that of the drama. The critic is certainly in the right, for the reason already urg'd; the work of tragedy is on the pas- sions, and in dialogue, both of them abhor strong metaphors,
in which the epopee delights. A poet cannot speak too plainly on the stage; for z_olat _rrevocabile _:erbum; the sense is lost, if it be not taken flying; but what we read alone, we have leisure to digest. There an author may beautify his sense by the boldness of his expression, which if we understand not fully at the first, we may dwell upon it till we find the secret force and excellence. That which cures the manners by alterative physic, as I said before, must proceed by insensible degrees; but that which purges tht passions must do its business all at once, or wholly fail of its effect, at least in the present operation, and without re. peated doses. We must beat the iron while 't is hot, but we may polish it at leisure. Thus, my Lord, you pay the fine of my forgetfulness; and yet the merits of both causes are
where they were, and undecided, till you declare whether it be more for the benefit of mankind to have their manners
in general corrected, or their pride and hard-heartedness remov'd.
I must now come closer to my present business, and not think of making more invasive wars abroad, when, like Han- nibal, I am ca11'd back to the defense of my own country.
Virgil is attack'd by many enemies; he has a whole con- federacy against him; and I must endeavor to defend him as well as I am able. But their principal objections being against his moral, the duration or length of time taken up
in the action of the poem, and what they have to urge against the manners of his hero, I shall omit the rest as mere cavils
of grammarians; at the worst, but casual slips of a great man's pen, or inconsiderable faults of an admirable poem, which the author had not leisure to review before t/is death.
Macrobius has answer'd what the ancients could urge against
? DEDICATION OF THE _NEIS IS
hlm; and some things I have lately read in Tatmeguy le F_vre, Valois, and another whom I name not, which are scarce worth answering. They begin with the moral of his poem, which I have elsewhere confess'd, and still must own, not to be so noble as that of Homer. But let both be fairly stated; and, without contradictang my first opinion, I can shew that Virgil's was as useful to the Romans of his age, as Homer's was to the Grecians of his, in what time soever he may be suppos'd to have liv'd and flourish'd. Homer's moral was to urge the necessity of union, and of a good understanding betwixt confederate states and princes engag'd m a war with a mighty monarch; as also of discipline in an army, and obedience in the several chiefs to the supreme commander of the joint forces. To inculcate this, he sets forth the ruinous effects of discord in the camp of those allies, occasion'd by the quarrel betwixt the general and one of the next in office under him Agamemnon gives the provocation, and Achilles resents the injury. Both parties are faulty in the quarrel, and accordingly they are both pun- ish'd; the aggressor is forc'd to sue for peace to his inferior on dishonorable conditions; the deserter refuses the satisfac- tion offer'd, and his obstinacy costs him his best friend. This works the natural effect of choler, and turns his ra. ge against him by whom he was last affronted, and most sen- sibly. The greater anger expels the less; but his character is still preserv'd. In the mean time, the Grecian army re- ceives loss on loss, and is half destroy'd by a pestilence into the bargain:
Quicquid delirant reges, plectunturAchlvl.
As the poet, in the first part of the example, had shewn the bad effects of discord, so, after the reconcilement, he gives the good effects of unity; for Hector is slain, and then Troy must fall. By this 't is probable that Homer liv'd when the Median monarchy was grown formidable to the Grecians, and that the joint endeavors of his cotmtrymen were little enough to preserve their common freedom from an encroaching enemy. Such was his moral, which all critics have allow'd to be more noble than that of Virgil, tho' not adapted to the times in which the Roman poet liv'd.
? 16 DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF V/RG/L
Had Virgil flourish'd in the age of Ennius, and address'd to Scipio, he had probably taken the same moral, or some other not unhke it. For then the Romans were in as much danger from the Carthaginian commonwealth as the Grecians were from the Assyrian or Median monarchy. But we are to consider him as writing his poem in a time when the old form of government was subverted, and a new one just estab- lish'd by Octavius Caesar, in effect by force of arms, but seemingly by the consent of the Roman people. The com- monwealth had receiv'd a deadly wound in the former civil wars betwixt Marius and Sylla. The commons, while the
first prevaffd, ". ad almost shaken off the yoke of the nobility; and Marius and Cinna, like the captains of the mob, under the sp_ious pretense of the public good, and of doing justice on the oppressors of their liberty, reveng'd themselves, with- out form of law, on their private enemies. Sylla, in his turn, proscrib'd the heads of the adverse party: he too had nothing'but hberty and reformation in his mouth; for the cause of rehgion is but a modern motive to rebellion, in- vented by the Christian priesthood, refining on the heathen. Sylla, to be sure, meant no more good to the Roman people than Marius before him, whatever he declar'd; but sacrific'd the lives and took the estates of all his enemies, to gratify those who brought him into power. Such was the reforma- tion of the government by both parties. The senate and the commons were the two bases on wh,ch it stood, and the two champions of either faction each destroy'd the foun_fions of the other side; so the fabric, of consequence, must fall betwixt them, and tyranny must be built upon their ruins. This comes of altering fundamental laws and constitutions; like him, who, being in good health, lodg'd himself in a physician's house, and was overpersuaded by his landlord to take physic, of which he died, for the benefit of his doctor. Stavo ben; (was written on his monument,) raa, per star meglio, sto qul.
After the death of those two usurpers, the commonwealth seem'd to recover, and held up its head for a little time. But it was all the while in a deep consumption, which is flattering disease. Pompey, Crassus, and C_esar had found the sweets of arbitrary power; and, each being a check m
? DEDICATION OF THE . _NEIS 17 the other's growth, struck up a false friendship amongst
thLmaselves,and divided the government betwixt them, which none of them was able to assume alone. These were the
public-spirited men of their age; that is, patriots for their own interest. The commonwealth look'd with a florid coun-
tenance in their management, spread in bulk, and all the while was wasting in the vitals. Not to trouble your Lord- ship with the repetition of what you know; after the death of Crassus, Pompey found himself outwitted by Caesar, broke with him, overpower'd him in the senate, and caus'd many unjust decrees to pass against him. Caesar, thus injur'd, and unable to resist the faetmn of the nobles, which was now uppermost, (for he was a Marian,) had recourse to arms; and his cause was just against Pompey, but not against his country, whose constitution ought to have been sacred to him, and never to have been violated on the account of any private wrong. But he prevail'd, and, Heav'n declaring for him, he became a providential monarch, under the title of perpetual dictator. He being murther'd by his own son, whom I neither dare commend, nor can justly blame, (tho' Dante, in his In[erno, has put him and Cassius, and Juda_ Iscariot betwixt them, into the great devil's mouth,) the com- monwealth popp'd up its head for the third time, under Brutus and Cassius, and then sunk for ever.
Thus the Roman people were grossly gull'd, twice or thrice over, and as often enslav'd in one century, and under the same pretense of reformation. At last the two battles of Philippi gave the decisive stroke against liberty; and, no_ long after, the commonwealth was turn'd into a monarchy by the conduct and good fortune of Augustus. 'T is true that the despotic power could not have fallen into better hands than those of the first and second Caesar. Your Lord-
ship well knows what obligations Virgil had to the latter ot_ them: he saw, beside, that the commonwealth was lost with-
out resource; the heads of it destroy'd; the senate, new molded, grown degenerate, and either bought off, or thrust- ing their own necks into the yoke, out of fear of being forc'd, Yet I may safely affirm for our great author, (as men of good sense are generally honest,) that he was still of repub
'lican principles in heart.
? 18 DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL Secretmque pils, his dantem jura Catonem.
I think I need use no other argument to justify my opinion, than that of this one hne, taken from the Eighth Book of the . /E_ezs. If he had not well studied his patron's temper,
it might have ruin'd him with another prince. But Augustus was not discontented, at least that we can find, that Cato was
plat'd, by his own poet, in Elysium, and there giving laws to the holy souls who deserv'd to be separated from the vulgar sort of good spirits. For his conscience could not but whis- per to the arbitrary monarch, that the kings of Rome were at first elective, and govern'd not without a senate; that Romulus was no hereditary prince; and tho', after his death, he receiv'd divine honors for the good he did on earth, yet he was but a god of their own making; that the last Tarquin was expell'd justly, for overt acts of tyranny and maladmin- istration, for such are the conditions of an elective king- dom: and I meddle not with others, being, for my own opinion, of Montaigne's principles, that an honest man ought to be contented with that form of government, and with those fundamental constitutions of it, which he receiv'd from his ancestors, and under which himself was born; tho' at the same time he confess'd freely, that if he could have chosen his place of birth, it should have been at Venice; which, for many reasons, I dislike, and am better pleas'd to have been born an Englishman.
But, to return from my long rambling, I say that Virgil, having maturely weigh'd the condition of the times in which he liv'd; that an entire liberty was not to be retriev'd; that the present settlement had the prosl_ect of a long continu-
ance in the same family, or those adopted into it; that he held his paternal estate from the bounty of the conqueror, by whom he was likewise enrich'd, esteem'd, and cherish'd; that this conqueror, tho' of a bad kind, was the very best of it; that the arts of peace flourish'd under him; that all men might be happy, if they would be quiet; that, now he was in possession of the whole, yet he shar'd a great part of his authority with the senate; that he would be chosen into the
ancient oi_ces of the commonwealth, and rul'd by the power which he derlv'd from them, and prorogued his government
from time to time, still, as it were, threat'ning to dismiss
? DEDICATION OF THE _NEIS 19
himself from public cares, which he exercis'd more for the common good than for any delight he took in greatness-- these things, I say, being ? onsider'd by the poet, he con- cluded it to be the interest of his country to be so govern'd; to infuse an awful respect into the people towards such a prince; by that respect to confirm their obedience to him, and by that obedience to make them happy. This was the moral of his divine poem; honest in the poet; honorable to the emperor, whom he derives from a divine extraction; and reflecting part of that honor on the Roman people, whom he derives also from the Trojans; and not only profit- able, but necessary, to the present age, and likely to be such to their posterity.
That it was the receiv'd opinion that the Romans were descended from the Trojans, and Julius C_sar from Julius the son of _neas, was enough for Virgil; tho' perhaps he thought not so himself, or that/_neas _ver was in Italy; which Bochartus manifestly proves. And Homer, where he says that Jupiter hated the house of Priam, and was resolv'd to transfer the kingdom to the family of . _neas, yet mentions nothing of his leading a colony into a foreign country and settling there. But that the Romans valued themselves on their Trojan ancestry is so undoubted a truth that I need not prove it. Even the seals which we have re- maining of Julius Cmsar, which we know to be antique, have the star of Venus over them, tho' they were all graven after his death, as a note that he was deified. I doubt not but it was one reason why Augustus should be so passionately con- cern'd for the preservation of the 2Eneis, which its author had condemn'd to be burnt, as an imperfect poem, by his last will and testament; was because it did him a real service, as well as an honor; that a work should not be lost where his divine original was celebrated in verse which had the character of immortality stamp'd upon it.
Neither were the great Roman families which flouHsh'd in his time less oblig'd by him than the emperor. Your Lordship knows with what address he makes mention of them, as captains of ships, or leaders in the war; and even some of Italian extraction are not forgotten. These are the
single stars which are sprinkled thro' the 2Ends; but there are whole constellations of them in the Fifth Book. And I
? 20 DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL
could not but take notice, when I translated it, of some favorite families to which he gives the victory and awards the prizes, in the person of his hero, at the funeral games
which were celebrated in honor of Anchises I insist not on their names; but am pleas'd to find the Memmii amongst
them, deriv'd from Mnestheus, because Lucretius dedicates
to one of that family, a branch of which destroy'd Corinth.
I likewise either found or form'd an image to myself of the
contrary kind, that those who lost the prizes were such as
had disoblig'd the poet, or were in disgrace with Augustus,
or enemies to Mmcenas; and this was the poetical revenge
he took. For genus trritabde vatum, as l:_orace says. When
a poet is throughly provok'd, he will do himself justice, how-
ever dear it cost him; anlmamque in vulnere point I think
these are not bare imaginations of my own, tho' I find no
trace of them in the commentators; but one poet may judge
of another by himself. The vengeance we defer is not for-
gotten. I hinted before that the whole Roman people were
oblig'd by Virgil, in deriving them from Troy; an ancestry
which they affected. We and the French are of the same
humor: they would be thought to descend from a son, I think, of Hector; and we would have our Britain both nam'd and
planted by a descendant of -_neas. Spenser favors this opinion what he can His Prince Arthur, or whoever he intends by him, is a Trojan. Thus the hero of Homer was a Grecian, of Virgil a Roman, of Tasso an Italian.
I have transgress'd my bounds, and gone farther than the moral led me. But, if your Lordship is not tir'd, I am safe
enough.
Thus far, I think, my author is defended. But, as Augus- tus is still shadow'd in the person of . _neas, (of which I shall say more when I come to the manners which the poet gives his hero,) I must prepare that subject by shewing how dext'rously he manag'd both the prince and people, so as to
displease neither, and to do good to both; which is the part of a wise and an honest man, and proves that it is possible for a courtier not to be a knave. I shall continue still to speak my thoughts like a free-born subject, as I am; tho' such things, perhaps, as no Dutch commentator could, and I am sure no Frenchman durst. I have already told your Lord-
? DEDICATION OF THE IE_EIS 21
ship my opinion of Virgil, that he was no arbitrary man. Oblig'd he was to his master for his bounty, and he repays him with good counsel, how to behave himself in his new monarchy, so as to gain the affections of his subjects, and deserve to be calrd the father of his country. From this consideration zt is that he chose, for the groundwork of his poem, one empire destroy'd, and another ra_s'd from the ruins of it. This was just the parallel . _Eneas could not pretend to be Priam's heir m a hneal succession; for An- chises, the hero's father, was only of the second branch of the royal family; and Helenus, a son of Priam, was yet sur-
viving, and might lawfully claim before him. It may he Virgil mentions him on that account. Neither has he for- gotten Priamus, in the Fifth of his . _. neis, the son of Polites, youngest son of Priam, who was slain by Pyrrhus, in the Second Book. . JEneas had only married Creusa, Priam's daughter, and by her could have no title while any of the male issue were remaining. In this ease the poet gave him the next rifle, which is that of an elective king. The re- maining Trojans chose him to lead them forth, and settle them in some foreign country. Ilioneus, in his speech to Dido, calls him expressly by the name of king. Our poet, who all this while had Augustus m his eye, had no desire he should seem to succeed by any right of inheritance deriv'd from Julius C_esar, (such a title being but one degree re- mov'd from conquest,) for what was introduc'd by force, by force may be remov'd. 'T was better for the people that they should give, than he should take; since that gift was indeed no more at bottom than a trust. Virgil gives us an example of this in the person of Mezentius: he govern'd arbitrarily; he was expell'd, and came to the deserv'd end of all tyrants. Our author shews us another sort of king- ship, in the person of Latinus. He was descended from Saturn, and, as I remember, in the third degree. He is de- serib'd a just and gracious prince, solicitous for the welfare of his people, always consulting with his senate to promote the common good. We find him at the head of them, when he enters into the council hall, speaking first, but still de-
manding their advice, and steering by it, as far as the iniquity of the times would suffer him. And this is the proper char-
? 22 DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL
acter of a king by inheritance, who is born a father of h|$ country. 2Eneas, tho' he married the he2ress of the crown, yet claim'd no title to it during the life of his father-in-law. Pater arma Latinus habeto, &c. , are Virgil's words. As for himself, he was contented to take care of his country gods, who were not those of Latium; wherein our divine author seems to relate to the after-practice of the Romans, which was to adopt the gods of those they conquer'd, or receiv'd as members of their commonwealth. Yet, withal, he plainly touches at the office of the high-priesthood, with which Augustus was invested, and which made his person more sacred and inviolable than even the tribunitial power. It
was not therefore for nothing that the most judicious of all poets made that office vacant by the death of Panthus in the
Second Book of the _Ene:s, for his hero to succeed in it, and
consequently for Augustus to enjoy. I know not that any
of the commentators have taken notice of that passage. Ii
they have not, I am sure they ought; and if they have, I am not indebted to them for the observation. The words of
Virgil are very plain:
Sacra, suosquetlbi commendatTroja penates.
As for Augustus, or his uncle Julius, claiming by descent from . _neas, that title _s already out of doors. _neas suc-
ceeded not, but was elected. Troy was foredoom'd to fall for ever:
Postquamres AslaePrlamlqueevertereregnum Immentum vzsum superls.
N. _Enels,hb in, lin. i.
Augustus, 't is true, had once resolv'd to rebuild that city, and there to make the seat of empire; but Horace writes an ode on purpose to deter him from that thought, declaring the place to be accurst, and that the gods would as often destroy it as it should be rais'd. Hereupon the emperor laid aside a project so ungrateful to the Roman people. But by this, my Lord, we may conclude that he had still his pedigree in his head, and had an itch of being thought a divine king, if his poets had not given him better counsel.
I will pass by many less material objections, for want of room to answer them: what follows next is o[ great ira-
? DEDICATION OF THE _gNEIS 23
portance, if the critics can make out their charge; for 't is level'd at the manners which our poet gives his hero, and which are the same which were eminently seen in his Augus- tus. Those manners were piety to the gods and a dutiful affecUon to his father, love to his relations, care of his people, courage and conduct m the wars, gratitude to those who had oblig'd him, and justice in general to mankind.
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.
? DEDICATION OF THE _NEIS 25
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
? DEDICATION OF THE _NEIS 27
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:
? 30
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
? Sl
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.