No More Learning

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 . _. neis, to calm the tempest rais'd by _olus, and afterwards conducting the Trojan fleet to Cumes in safety, with the loss only of their pilot, for whom he bar- gains. I name those two examples amongst a hundred which I omit, to prove that Virgil, generally speaking, employ'd his machines in performing those things which might pos- sibly have been done without them. What more frequent than a storm at sea, upon the rising of Orion ? What wonder, if, amongst so many ships, there should one be overset, which was commanded by Orontes, tho' half the winds had not been
t_e which . _. . olim employ'd? Might not Palinmms,without
? DEDICATION OF THE _. NEIS 49
a miracle, fall asleep, and drop into the sea, having been overwearied with watching, and secure of a quiet passage, by his observation of the skies? At least . _neas, who knew nothing of the machine of Somnus, takes it plainly in this sense :
0 mmmm ccelo et pelago confisesereno _udus in ignota,Pa]mure,jacebisarena.
But machines sometimes are specious things, to amuse the reader and give a color of probability to things otherwise in- credible. And, besides, it sooth'd the vanity of the Romans, to find the gods so visibly concern'd in all the actions of their predecessors.
We, who are better taught by our re- ligion, yet own every wonderful accident which befalls tts for the best, to be brought to pass by some special providence of Almighty God, and by the care of guardian angels; and from hence I might infer that no heroic poem can be writ on the Epicurean principles; which I could easily demonstrate, if there were need to prove it, or I had leisure.
When Venus opens the eyes of her son 2Eneas, to behold the gods who combated against Troy in that fatal night when it was surpris'd, we share the pleasure of that glorious vision (which Tasso has not ill copied in the saclang of Jerusalem). But the Greeks had done their business, tho' neither Nep- tune, Juno, or Pallas had given them their divine assistance. The most crude machine which Virgil uses is in the episode of Camilla, where Opis, by the command of her mistress, kdls Aruns. The next is in the Tzvelfth . 'Eneid, where Venus cures her son . _neas. But in the last of these the poet was driven to a necessity; for Turnus was to be slain that very day; and /Eneas, wounded as he was, could not have en- gag'd him in single combat, unless his hurt had been miracu- lously heal'd. And the poet had consider'd that the dittany which she brought from Crete could not have wrought so speedy an effect, without the juice of crmbrosia, which she mingled with it. After all, that his machine might not seem too violent, we see the hero limping after Turnus. The wound was skinn'd, but the strength of his thigh was not restodd. But what reason had our author to wound ,,Xneas at so critical a time ? And how came the cuisses to be worse
? DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL
temper'd than the rest of his armor, which ,was all wrought by Vulcan and his journeymen? These difficulties are not easily to be solv'd, without confessing that Virgil had not life enough to correct his work; tho' he had review'd it, and found those errors whmh he resolv'd to mend: but, being pre- vented by death, and not willing to leave an imperfect work
behind him, he ordain'd: by his last testament, that his/Ends should be burn'd. As for the death of Aruns, who was shot by a goddess, the machine was not altogether so outrageous as the wounding Mars and Venus by the sword of Diomede. Two divinities, one would have thought, might have pleaded their prerogative of impassibility, or at least not have been wounded by any morta! hand; beside that the d_#ap which they shed was so very like our common blood, that it was not to be disting_ish'd from it, but only by the name and color. As for what Horace says in his Art of Poetry, that no machines are to be us'd, unless on some extraordinary occasion:
Nec deus intersit, nlsl dlgnus vindice nodus--
that rule is to be applied to the theater, of which he is then speaking; and means no more than this, that, when the knot of the play is to be untied, and no other way is left for making the discovery; then, and not otherwise, let a god descend mpon a rope, and clear the business to the audience. But this has no relation to the machines which are us'd in an epic poem.
In the last place, for the Dies, or flying pest, which, flap- ping on the shield of Turnas, and flmtering about his head, dishearten'd him in the duel, and presag'd to him his ap- proaching death, I might have plac'd it more properly amongst the objections; for the critics who lay want of courage to the charge of Virgil's hero quote this passage as a main proof of their assertion. They say our author had not
only secur'd him before the duel, but also, in the beginning of it, had given him the advantage in impenetrable arms, and in his sword; for that of Tttrnus was not his own, which was forg'd by Vulcan for his hther, but a weapon which he had snatch'd in haste, and by mistake, belonging to his charioteer Met/seas; that, after a/l th/s, Jupiter, who was partial to the
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Trojan, and distrustful of the event, tho' he had hung the balance, and given it a jog of his hand to weigh down Turnus, thought convenient to give the Fates a collateral security, by sending the screech owl to discourage him. for which they quote these words of Virgil:
Non me tua turb_da vlrtus
_" Terret, rot: dii me terrent, et Jupxter hosfis.
In answer to which, I say that this machine is one of those which the poet uses only for ornament, and not out of neces- sity. Nothing can be more beautiful or more poetical than his description of the three Dittw, or the setting of the bal- ance which our Milton has borrow'd from him, b_t employ'd to a different end: for, first, he makes God Almighty set the scale for St. Gabriel and Satan, when he knew no combat was to follow; then he makes the good angel's scale descend, and the Devil's mount, quite contrary to Virgil, if I have translated the three verses according to my author's sense:
Jupiter _pse duas _equato examine lances
Sustinet; et rata imponlt dlversa duorum;
Quem damnet labor, et quo vergat pondere letum.
For I have taken these words, quem damnet labor, in the sense which V_rgll gives them in another place--damnabis tu quoqu? votis--to sigmfy a prosperous event. Yet I dare not condemn so great a genius as Mdton: for I am much mis- taken if he alludes not to the text in Daniel, where Bel- shazzar was put into the balance and found too light. This is digression; and I return to my s_bject. I said above that these two machines of the balance and the Dira were only ornamental, and that the success of the duel had been the same without them. For, when . _neas and Turnus stood fronting each other before the altar, Turnus IookM dejected, and his color faded in his face, as if he desponded of the victorybefore the fight; and not only he, but all his party, when the strength of the two champions was judg'd by the proportion of their limbs, concluded it was impar pugna, and that their chief was overmatch'd: whereupon Juturna (who was of the same opinion)_ took this opportunity to break the
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treaty and renew the war. Juno herself had plainly tola
the nymph beforehand that her brother was to fight Impaxabus fatis, he- dlis vir_bus _'quls ;
so that there was no need of an apparition to fright Turnas: he had the presage within himself of his impending destiny. The Dira only serv'd to confirm him m his first opinion, that it was his destiny to die in the ensuing combat; and in this sense are those words of Virgil to be taken:
. Nonmetuaturb_davirtus Terret,aft:diime tcrrente,tJuplterhostls.
Idoubtnotbuttheadverbsolsmistobeunderstood:"'T|| notyour valoronlythatgivesme thisconcernment;butI findalso,by thisportent,thatJupiterismy enemy. " For
Turnus fledbefore,when hisfirstsword was broken,tillhis sistersuppliedhim witha better;which indeedhe couldnot use,because. _neas kept him at a distancewith hisspear. I wonder Rufus saw not this,where he charges his author sounjustly,forgivingTurnus asecondswordtono purpose. How couldhe fastcna blow,or make a thrt/stw,hen he was not suffcr'dto approach? Besides,the chieferrand of the Dirawastowarn Juturnafromthefieldf,orshecouldhave broughtthechariotagain,when shesawherbrotherworsted in the duel. I might fartheradd, that. _Eneaswas so eager ofthefighthatheleftthecity,now almostinhispossession, to decidehis quarrelwith Turnus by the sword; whereas Turnus had manifestlydeclin'dthecombat,and suffer'dhis sisterto convey him as far from the reach of his enemy as shecould. Isay,notonlysuffer'dher,butconsentedtoit; for 'tisplainhe knew her,by thesewords:
o soror, et dudum sgnovi, cttmprima perartem Foulera turbasti, teque h_c in bella dedisti;
Et nunc nequicquamfalhsdea. _
I have dwelt so long on thissubject,thatI must contract what I have to say in referenceto my translationu,nlessI would swell my preface into a volume, and make it for- midable to your Lordship,when you see so many pages yet behind. And indeed what I have already,written,either/n"
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justification or praise ofVirgil, is against myself, for pre- suming to copy, m my coarse English, the thoughts and beau- tlful expressions of this immitable poet, who flourish'd in an
age when his language was brought to its last perfection, for which it was particularly owing to him and Horace. I
will give yottr Lordship my opinion, that those two friends had consulted each other's judgment, wherein they should endeavor to excel; and they seem to have pitch'd on pro- priety of thought, elegance of words, and harmony of num- bers. According to this model, Horace writ his Odes and Epodes: for his Satires and Epistles, being antended wholly for instruction, requir'd another style:
Ornari res Ipsa negat, contenta doceri_
and therefore, as he himself professes, are sermom propiora, nearer prose than verse. But Virgil, who never attempted the lyric verse, is everywhere elegant, sweet, and flowmg in his hexameters. His words are not only chosen, but the places in which he ranks them for the sound, he who re- moves them from the station wherem their master sets them, spoils the harmony. What he says of the Sibyl's prophecies may be as properly applied to every word of his. they must be read in order as they lie; the least breath discomposes them; and somewhat of their divimty is lost. I cannot boast that I have been thus exact in my verses; but I have en- deavor'd to follow the example of my master, and am the first Englishman, Ixerhaps, who made it his design to copy him in hts numbers, his choice of words, and his placing them for the sweetness of the sound On this last consideration I have shunn'd the cwsura as much as possibly I could: for, wherever that is us'd, it gives a roughness to the verse; of which we can have little need in a language which is over- stock'd with consonants. Such is not the Latin, where the vowels and consonants are mix'd in proportion to each other; yet Virgil judgad the vowels to have somewhat of an over- balance, and therefore tempers their sweetness with cwsuras. Such difference there is in tongues, that the same figure which roughens one, gives majesty to another; and that was it which Virgil studied in his verses. Ovid uses it but rarely; and hence it is that his versification cannot so properly be
? 54 DRYDEI_'$ TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL
call'd sweet, as luscious The Italians are forc'd upon it once or twice in every line, because they have a redundancy of vowels m their language. Their metal is so soft that it will not corn without alloy to harden it. On the other side, for the reason already hare'd, 'tis all we can do to give sufficient sweetness to our language: we must not only choose our words for elegance, but for sound; to perform which, a mastery in the language is requir'd; the poet must have a magazine of words, and have the art to manage his few vowels to the best advantage, that they may go the farther. He must also know the nature of the vowels--which are more sonorous, and which more soft and sweet--and so dis- pose them as his present occasions require: all which, and a thousand secrets of versification beside, he may learn from Virgil, if he will take him for his guide. If he be above Virgil, and is resolv'd to follow his own verve, (as the French call-it,) the proverb will fall heavily upon him: "Who teaches himself, has a fool for his master. "
Virgil employ'd eleven years upon his . ? Enels; yet he 1? _ it, as he thought h_mself, imperfect. Which when I se- riously consider, I wish that, instead of three years, which I have spent in the translation of his works, I had four years more allow'd me to correct my errors, that I might make my version somewhat more tolerable than it is: for a poet can. not have too great a reverence for his readers, if he expects his labors should survive him. Yet I will neither plead my age nor sickness, in excuse of the faults which I have made: that I wanted time, is all I have to say; for some of my sub- scribers grew so clamorous that I could no longer defer the publication I hope, from the candor of yot_r Lordship, and yonr often experienc'd goodness to me, that, if the faults are not too many, you will make allowances with Horace:
Si plura nitent in carmine,non ego paucls Offendar maculis, quas nut incuria fudlt,
Aut humanaparumcavit natura,
You may please also to observe_ that there is not, to the best of my remembrance, one vowel gaping on another for want of a c,_sgra, in this whole poem; but, where a vowel ends a word, the next begins eiflier with a consonant,
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or what is its equivalent; for our W and H aspirate, and our diphthongs, are plainly such. The greatest latitude I take is in the letter Y, when it concludes a word and the first
syllable of the next begins with a vowel. Neither need I have caWd this a latitude, which is only an explanation of this general rule, that no vowel can be cut off before another when we cannot sink the pronunciation of it, as he, . the, me, I, &c. Virgil thinks it sometimes a beauty to imitate the license of the Greeks, and leave two vowels opening on each other, as in that verse of the TMrd Pa. rtoral:
Et succus pecori, et lac subducitur agnis.
But, nobis non licet esse tam disertis, at least if we study to refine our numbers. I have long had by me the materials of an English prosodia, containing all the mechanical rules of versification, wherein I have treated with some exactness of the feet, the quantities, and the pauses. The French and Italians know nothing of the two first; at least their best poets have not practic'd them. As for the pauses, Malherbe first brought them into France, within this last century: and we see how they adorn their . 41exandrins. But, as Virgil propounds a riddle, which he leaves unsolv'd:
Dic qmbus in terris, inscripti nomina regum Nascantur totes ; et Phylhda solus habeto;
so I will give your Lordship another, and leave the exposi- tion of it to your acute judgment. I am sure there are few
who make verses have observ'd the sweetness of these two lines in Coopa_'s Hill:
Tho' deep, yet dear ; tho' gentle, yet not dull; Strong without rage, without o'erflowing, full.
And there are yet fewer who can find the reason of that sweetness. I have given it to some of my friends in conver- sation, and they have allow'd the criticism to be just. But, since the evil of false quantities is diflScult to be cur'd in any modern language; since the French and the Italians, as well as we, are yet ignorant what feet are to be us'd in heroic poetry; since I have not strictly observ'd those rules myself whick I can teach others; since I pretend to no dictatorship
? DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF VIRC_.
among my fellow poets; since, if I should instrt_ct some of them to make well-running verses, they want genius to give them strength as well as sweetness; and, above all, since your Lordship has advis'd me not to publish that little which I know, I look on your counsel as your command, which I shall observe inviolably, tiU you shall please to revoke it, and leave me at liberty to make my thoughts public. In the mean time, that I may arrogate nothing to myself, I must acknowledge that Virgil in Latin, and Spenser in ]English, have been my masters. Spenser has also given me the boldness to make use sometimes of his ,41exa_drin hne, which we call, tho' im- properly, the Pindaric, because Mr. Cowley has often em- ploy'd it in his Odes. It adds a certain majesty to the verse, when 't is us'd with judgment, and stops the sense from overflowing into another line. Formerly the French, like us and the Italians, had but five feet, or ten syllables, in their heroic verse; but since Ronsard's time, as I suppose, they found their tongue too weak to support their epic poetry without the addition of another foot. That indeed has given it somewhat of the run and measure of a trimeter; but it runs with more activity than strength: their language is not strung with sinews, like our Enghsh. It has the nimbleness of a greyhound, but not the bulk and body of a mastiff. Our men and our verses overbear them by their weight; and ponclere, non numero, is the British motto. The French have set up purity for the standard of their language; and a mas- culine vigor is that of ours. Like their tongue is the genius of their poets, light and trifling in comparison of the Eng- lish; more proper for sonnets, madrigals, and elegies, than heroic poetry. The turn on thoughts and words is their chief talent, but the epic poem is too stately to receive those little ornaments. The painters draw their nymphs in thin and airy habits; but the weight of gold and of embroideries is reserv'd for queens and goddesses. Virgil is never frequent in those turns, like Ovid, but much more sparing of them in his A_eis than in his Pastoral_ and Georqics.
Ignoscendaquidem,sdrent si ignosceremanes.
That turn is beautiful indeed; but he employs it in the story, of Orpheus and Eurydice, not in his great poem I
? DEDICATION OF THE _ENEIS 57 have us'd that license in his _neis sometimes, but I own it
as my fault. 'T was given to those who understand no better. 'T is like Ovid's
Sem_virumquebovem, semlbovemquevlrum.
The poet found it before his critics, but it was a darling sin, which he would not be persuaded to reform. The want of genius, of which I have acc_ts'd the French, is laid to their charge by one of their own great authors, tho' I have for- gotten his name, and where I read it. If rewards could make good poets, their great master has not been wanting on his part in his bountiful encouragements; for he is wise enough to imitate Augustus, if he had a Maro. The trimnvir and proscriber had descended to t_s in a more hideous form than they now appear, if the emperor had not taken care to make friends of him and Horace. I confess the banishment
of Ovid was a blot in his escutcheon: yet he was only banish'd; and who knows but his crime was capital, and then his exile was a favor? Ariosto, who, with all his fa_ts, must be acknowledg'd a great poet, has put these words into the mouth of an evangehst; but whether they will pass for
gospel now, I cannot tell
Non fu si santo ni benigno Augusto, Come la tuba di Virgtho suona.
L' hayer havuto in poesm buon gusto, La proscrittioneiniqua gli perdona.
But heroic poetry is not of the growth of France, as it might be of England_ if it were cultivated. Spenser wanted only to have read the rules of Bosstt; for no man was ever
born with a greater genius, or had more knowledge to sup- port it. But the performance of the French is not equal to their skill; and hitherto we have wanted skill to perform better. Segrais, whose preface is so wonderfully good, yet is wholly destitute of elevation, tho' his version is much better than that of the two brothers, or any of the rest who have attempted Virgil. Hannibal Caro is a great name amongst the Italians;yet his translation of the _]_nels is most scandaloasly mean, tho' he has taken the advantage of writing in blank verse, and freed himself _rom the shackles
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Of modern rhyme, (if it be modern; for Le aerc has told
lately, and I believe has made it out, that David's Psalm8 were written in as errant rhyme as they are translated. )
Now, if a Muse cannot run when she is mffetter'd, 't is a sign she has but httle speed I will not make a digression here, tho' I am strangely tempted to it; but will only say, that he who can write well in rhyme, may write better in blank verse. Rhyme is certainly a constraint even to the best poets, and those who make it with most ease; tho' per- Imps I have as little reason to complain that hardship as any man, excepting QL_arlesand Wztbers. What it adds to sweet- hess, it takes away from sense; and he who loses the least by it may be call'd a gainer. It often makes us swerve from an author's meaning; as, ii a mark be set up for an archer at a great_. dlstance, let him alto as exactly as he can, the least wind will take his arrow, and divert it from the whlte. I re- turn to our Italian translator of the . _neis. He is a foot-
poet, he lackeys by the side of Vtrgil at the best, but never mounts behind him. Doctor Morelli, who is no mean critic
in oar poetry, and therefore may be presmn'd to be a better in his own language, has confirm'd me in this opinion by his judgment, and thinks, withal_ that he has often mistaken his master's sense. I would say so, if I darst, but am afraid I
have committed the same fault more often, and more grossly; for I have forsaken Rt_eus (whom generally I follow) in many places, and made expositions of my own in some, quite contrary to him Of which I will give bat two examples, because they are so near each other, in the Tenth _neid:
Sorti pater _vquusutrique.
Pallas says it to Turnus, just before they fight. R_us thinks that the word pater is to be referr'd to Evander, the father of Pallas. But how could he imagine that it was the same thing to Evander, if his son were slain, or if he over- . t-=me? The poet certainly intended Jupiter, the common }_ather of m--_ind; who, as Pallas hop'd, would stand an impartial spectator of the combat, and not be more favorable
to Turnus than to him. The second is not long after it, and both before the duel is begtm. They are the words of Jupiter, who comforts Her_des for the death of Pallas, which was
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|mmediately to ensue, and which Hercules could not hinder, (tho' the young hero had address'd his prayers to him for
hm assistance,) because the gods cannot control destiny. N The verse follows:
Sic alt, atque oculos Rutulorum rejiclt arvis,
which the same Rumus thus construes: Jupiter, after he had said this, immediately turns his eyes to the Rutulian fields, and beholds the duel. I have given this place another ex- position, that he turn'd his eyes from the field of combat, that he might not behold a sight so unpleasing to him. The word reficst, I know, will admit of both senses; but Jupiter having confess'd that he could not alter fate, and being griev'd he could not, in consideration of Herceles, it seems to me that he should avert his eyes, rather than take pleasure in the spectacle. But of this I am not so confident as the other, tho' I think I have follow'd Virgil's sense.
What I have said, tho' it has the face of arrogance, yet is intended for the honor of my country; and therefore I will boldly own that this English translation has more of
Virgil's spirit in it than either the French or the Italian. Some of our countrymen have translated episodes and other parts of Virgil with great success; as particularly your Lordship, whose version of Orpheus and Eurydice is emi- nently good. Amongst the dead authors, the Stlenu_ of my Lord Roscommon cannot be too much commended. I say
nothing of Sir John Denham, Mr. Waller, and Mr. Cowley; 't is the utmost of my ambition to be thottght their equal, or not to be much inferior to them, and some others of the living. But 't is one thing to take pains on a fragment, and translate it peHectly; and another thing to have the weight of a whole author on my shoulders. They who believe the burthen light, let them attempt the Fourth, Sixth, or Eighth Pastoral; the First or Fourth Georgic; and, amongst the . _neids, the Fourth. the Fifth, the Sezpenth, the Ninth. the Tenth. theEletlenth. or the Twelfth; for in these I think I have succeeded best.
Long before I undertook this work. I was no stranger to the original. I had also studied Virgil's design, his disposi-
of itt h_ . _:,_rs, 1_ jwclicio_ tmmagcmcat of the
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figures, the sober retrenchments of his sense, which always
leaves somewhat to gratify our imagination, on which it may enlarge at pleasure; but, above all, the elegance of his ex- pressions, and the harmony of his numbers. For, as I have said in a former dissertation, the words are in poetry what the colors are m painting If the design be good, and the draught be true, the coloring is the first beauty that strikes the eye. Spenser and Milton are the nearest, m English, to Virgil and Horace in the Latin; and I have endeavor'd to form my style by imltatmg their masters I will farther own to you, my Lord, that my chief ambition is to please those readers who have discernment enough to prefer Virgil before any other poet in the Latin tongue. Such spirits as he desir'd to please, such would I choose for my judges, and would stand or fall by them alone. Segrais has disfinguish'd the readers of'poetry, according to their capacity of judging, into three classes; (he might have said the same of writers too, if he had pleas'd 0 In the lowest form he places those whom he calls les petits esprtts; such things as are our upper- gallery audience in a playhouse, who like nothing but the husk and rind of wit; prefer a quibble, a conceit, an epi- gram, before solid sense and elegant expression; these are mob readers. If Virgil and Martial stood for Parliament- men, we know already who would carry it. But, tho' they
make the greatest appearance in the field, and cry the loudest, the best on't is, they are but a sort of French Hugue-
nots, or Dutch boors, brought over in herds, but not natu- raliz'd; who have not land of two pounds per annum in Par- nassus, and therefore are not privileg'd to poll. Their authors are of the same level, fit to represent them on mountebank's stage, or to be masters of the ceremonies in bear garden. Yet these are they who have the most ad- mirers. But it often happens, to their mortification, that, as their readers improve their stock of sense, (as they may by reading better books, and by conversation with men of judg- ment,) thoy soon forsake them; and when the torrent from the mountains falls no more, the swelling writer is rmtue'd into his shallow bed, liko lhe Manqanares at Madrid, with scarce water to moisten his own pebbles. There are t_ middle sort Oi r_. _lcr_, . (_ we hold the. re is a middle state of sotds,)
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such as have a farther insight than the former, yet have not the capacity of judging right; for I speak not of those who are brib'd by a party, and know better, if they were not cor- rupted; but I mean a company of warm young men, who are not yet arrlv'd so far as to discern the difference be- twixt fustian, or ostentatious sentences, and the true sublime. These are above hking Martial, or Owen's Epigrams, but they would certainly set Virgil below Statius or Lucan. I need not say their poets are of the same paste with their ad- mirers. They affect greatness in all they write ; but 't is a bladder'd greatness, like that of the vain man whom Seneca describes; an ill habit of body, full of humors, and swell'd with dropsy. Even these too desert their authors, as their judgment ripens. The young gentlemen themselves are com- monly misled by their pa:dagogge at school, their tutor at the university, or their governor in their travels. And many of those three sorts are the most positive blockheads in tlie world. How many of those flatulent writers have I known who have sunk in their reputation after seven or eight editions of their works! for indeed they are poets only for young men. They had great success at their first appear- ance; but, not being of God, as a wit said formerly, they could not stand.
I have already nam'd two sorts of judges; but Virgil wrote for neither of them: and, by his example, I am not ambitious
of pleasing the lowest or the middle form of readers.
He chose to please the most judicious, souls of the highest rank and truest understanding. These are few in number;
but whoever is so happy as to gain their approbation can never lose it, because they never give it blindly. Then they have a certain magnetism in their judgment, which attracts others to their sense. Every day they gain some new prose- lyre, and in time become the Church. For this reason, a well- weigh'd judicious poem, which at its first appearance gains no more upon the world than to be just receiv'd, and rather not blam'd than much applauded, insinuates itself by insen- sible degrees into the liking of the reader: the more he studies it, the more it grows upon him; every time he takes it up, he discovers some new graces in it. And whereas poems which are produc'd by the vigor of imagination only,
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have a gloss upon them at the first which time wears off, the works of judgment are like the diamond; the more they are
polish'd, the more luster they receive. Such is the difference betwixt Virgil's zEse/s and Marini's Adone. And, if I may
be allow'd to change the metaphor, I would say that Vtrgil is like the Fame which he describes:
Mobilitate viget, viresque acquirit etmdo.
Such a sort of reputation is my aim, tho' in a far inferior degree, according to my motto in the rifle-page: Sequiturque
_atrem tton pas_bus eequis: and therefore I appeal to the highest court of judicature, like that of the peers, of which your Lordship is so great an ornament.
Without this ambition which I own, of desiring to please the judices natos, I could never have been able to have done anything-at this age, when the fire of poetry is commonly exo
tinguish'd in other men. Yet Virgil has given me the exam- ple of Entellus for my encouragement" when he was well heated, the younger champion could not stand before him. And we find the elder contended not for the gift, but for the honor: ne? dona moror. For Dampier has inform'd us, in his Voyages, that the air of the country which produces gold is never wholesome.