Not all that forced politeness, which defends Poets and painters, as all artists + know, May shoot a little with a lengthen'd bow; We claim this mutual mercy for our task, And grant in turn the pardon which we ask ; But make not monsters spring from gentle damsBirds breed not vipers, tigers nurse not lambs. A labour'd, long exordium, sometimes tends Thus many a bard describes in pompous strain You sketch a tree, and so perhaps may shineBut daub a shipwreck like an alehouse sign; You plan a vase—it dwindles to a pot; Then glide down Grub-street-fasting and forgot; Spectatum admiss! risum teneatis, amici ? Scimus, et hanc veniam petimusque damusque vicissim : Incœptis gravibus plerumque et magna professis former was so flattering to Lord Byron, that it could scarcely fail to take off, for the time, the edge of his appetite for lite. rary bitterness. In short, he found himself mixing constantly in society with persons who had from good sense, or goodnature, or from both-overlooked the petulancies of his "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," and felt, as he said, that he should be "heaping coals of fire on his head" if he were to persist in bringing forth a continuation of his juvenile lampoon. Nine years had passed ere he is found writing thus to Mr. Murray:-"Get from Mr. Hobhouse, and send ine, a proof of my Hints from Horace:' it has now the nonum prematur in annum complete for its production. I have a notion that, with some omissions of names and passages, it will do; and I could put my late observations for Pope amongst the notes. As far as versification goes, it is good; and, in looking back at what I wrote about that period. I am astonished to see how little I have trained on. I wrote better then than now; but that comes of my having fallen into the atrocious bad taste of the times." On hearing, however, that, in Mr. Hobhouse's opinion, the iambics would require "a good deal of slashing" to suit the times, the notion of printing them was once more abandoned. They were first published, therefore, in 1831, seven years after the poet's death.] In an English newspaper, which finds its way abroad wherever there are Englishmen, I read an account of this dirty dauber's caricature of Mr. Has a "beast," and the consequent action, &c. The circumstance is, probably, too well known to require further comment. [The gentleman here alluded to was Thomas Hope. Esq., the author of "Anastasius," and one of the most munificent patrons of art this country ever possessed. Having, somehow, offended an un Laugh'd into Lethe by some quaint Review, Whose wit is never troublesome till true. 6 In fine, to whatsoever you aspire, Let it at least be simple and entire. The greater portion of the rhyming tribe (Give ear, my friend, for thou hast been a scribe) Are led astray by some peculiar lure. I labour to be brief- become obscure; Absurdly varying, he at last engraves Fish in the woods, and boars beneath the waves! Unless your care 's exact, your judgment nice, For gallygaskins Slowshears is your man; Dear authors! suit your topics to your strength, And ponder well your subject, and its length; Maxima pars vatum, pater, et juvenes patre digni, Decipimur specie recti. Brevis esse laboro, Obscurus fio: sectantem levia, nervi Deficiunt animique: professus grandia, turget: Serpit humi tutus nimium timidusque procellæ : Qui variare cupit rem prodigialiter unam, Delphinum sylvis appingit, fluctibus aprum. In vitium ducit culpæ fuga, si caret arte. Emilium circa ludum faber imus et ungues Exprimet, et molles imitabitur ære capillos; Infelix operis summa, quia ponere totum Nesciet. Hunc ego me, si quid componere curem, Non magis esse velim, quam pravo vivere naso, Spectandum nigris oculis nigroque capillo. Sumite materiem vestris, qui scribitis, æquam Viribus; et versate diù quid ferre recusent, Quid valeant humeri. Cui lecta potenter erit res, Nec facundia deseret hunc, nec lucidus ordo. Ordinis hæc virtus erit et venus, aut ego fallor, principled French painter, by name Dubost, that adventurer revenged himself by a picture called "Beauty and the Beast," in which Mr. Hope and his lady were represented according to the well-known fairy story. The picture had too much malice not to succeed; and, to the disgrace of John Bull, the exhibition of it is said to have fetched thirty pounds in a day. A brother of Mrs. Hope thrust his sword through the canvass; and M. Dubost had the consolation to get five pounds damages. The affair made much noise at the time; though Mr. Hope had not then placed himself on that seat of literary eminence, which he afterwards attained. Probably, indeed, no man's reputation in the world was ever so suddenly and completely altered, as his was by the appearance of his magnificent romance. He died in 1833.] 2 ["Moschus."- In the original MS.," Hobhouse."] 3 [The opening of the poem is, with reference to the original, ingenious.-MOORE.] ["All artists."— Originally, "We scribblers."] 5 "Where pure description held the place of sense.” POPE. 6 [This is pointed, and felicitously expressed.-MOORE.] 7 Mere common mortals were commonly content with one tailor and with one bill, but the more particular gentlemen found it impossible to confide their lower garments to the makers of their body clothes. I speak of the beginning of neither 1809: what reform may have since taken place, know, nor desire to know. [“ As one leg perfect, and the other lame."- MS.] Nor lift your load, before you're quite aware Let judgment teach him wisely to combine If you can add a little, say why not, As well as William Pitt, and Walter Scott? As forests shed their foliage by degrees, So fade expressions which in season please; And we and ours, alas! are due to fate, And works and words but dwindle to a date. Ut jam nunc dicat, jam nunc debentia dici Ut silvæ foliis pronos mutantur in annos; Prima cadunt,: ita verborum vetus interit ætas, Et juvenum ritu florent modo nata, vigentque. Debemur morti nos nostraque: sive receptus Terra Neptunus classes aquilonibus arcet, 1 Mr. Pitt was liberal in his additions to our parliamentary tongue; as may be seen in many publications, particularly the Edinburgh Review. 2 Old ballads, old plays, and old women's stories are at present in as inuch request as old wine or new speeches. In fact, this is the millennium of black letter: thanks to our Hebers, Webers, and Scotts !-[There was considerable malice in thus putting Weber, a poor German hack, a mere amanuensis of Sir Walter Scott, between the two other names.] 3" Mac Flecknoe," the "Dunciad," and all Swift's lampooning ballads. Whatever their other works may be, these originated in personal feelings, and angry retort on unworthy rivals; and though the ability of these satires elevates the poetical, their poignancy detracts from the personal character of the writers.-[For particulars of Dryden's feud with his successor in the laureateship, Shadwell, whom he has immortalised under the name of Mac Flecknoe, and also as Og, in the second part of" Absalom and Achitophel;" and for the literary squabbles in which Swift and Pope were engaged, the reader must turn to the lives and works of these three great writers. See also Mr. D'Israeli's painfully interesting book on "The Quarrels of Authors."] Though as a monarch nods, and commerce calls, Impetuous rivers stagnate in canals; Though swamps subdued, and marshes drain'd, sustain The immortal wars which gods and angels wage, Are they not shown in Milton's sacred page? His strain will teach what numbers best belong To themes celestial told in epic song. The slow, sad stanza will correctly paint The lover's anguish, or the friend's complaint. But which deserves the laurel-rhyme or blank? Which holds on Helicon the higher rank? Let squabbling critics by themselves dispute This point, as puzzling as a Chancery suit. Satiric rhyme first sprang from selfish spleen. You doubt-see Dryden, Pope, St. Patrick's dean. 3 Blank verse is now, with one consent, allied Regis opus; sterilisve diu palus, aptaque remis, Descriptas servare vices operumque colores, 4 [Like Dr.Johnson, Lord Byron maintained the excellence of rhyme over blank verse in English poetry. "Blank verse,' he says in his long lost letter to the editor of Blackwood's Magazine, "unless in the drama, no one except Milton ever wrote who could rhyme. I am aware that Johnson has said, after some hesitation, that he could not prevail upon himself to wish that Milton had been a rhymer.' The opinions of that truly great man, whom, like Pope, it is the present fashion to decry, will ever be received by me with that deference which time will restore to him from all; but, with all humility, I am not persuaded that the Paradise Lost' would not have been more nobly conveyed to posterity, not perhaps in heroic couplets, although even they could sustain the subject, if well balanced,- but in the stanza of Spenser, or of Tasso, or in the terza rima of Dante, which the powers of Milton could easily have grafted on our language. The Seasons' of Thomson would have been better in rhyme, although still inferior to his Castle of Indolence;' and Mr. Southey's Joan of Arc' no worse."] 5 With all the vulgar applause and critical abhorrence of puns, they have Aristotle on their side; who permits them to orators,and gives them consequence by a grave disquisition. Cur ego, si nequeo ignoroque, poeta salutor? Et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri. Si curat cor spectantis tetigisse querela. Non satis est pulchra esse poemata; dulcia sunto, Et, quocunque volent, animum auditoris agunto. Ut ridentibus arrident, ita flentibus adflent Humani vultus: si vis me flere, dolendum est Primum ipsi tibi; tunc tua me infortunia lædent. Telephe, vel Peleu, male si mandata loqueris, Aut dormitabo, aut ridebo: tristia mæstum Vultum verba decent ; iratum, plena minarum ; Ludentem, lasciva; severum, seria dictu. Format enim natura prius nos intus ad omnem ["Cicero also," says Addison," has sprinkled several of his works with them; and, in his book on Oratory, quotes abundance of sayings as pieces of wit, which, upon examination, prove arrant puns. But the age in which the pun chiefly flourished was in the reign of James the First, who was himself a tolerable punster, and made very few bishops or privy councillors that had not some time or other signalised themselves by a clinch or a conundrum. The sermons of Bishop Andrews, and the tragedies of Shakspeare, are full of them. The sinner was punned into repentance by the former; as in the latter, nothing is more usual than to see a hero weeping and quibbling for a dozen lines together."] 1 [In Vanbrugh's comedy of the "Provoked Husband."] 2 "And in his car I'll hollo Mortimer!"-1 Henry IV. 3 ["Johnson. Pray, Mr. Bayes, who is that Drawcansir? Bayes. Why, Sir, a great hero, that frights his mistress, snubs up kings, baffles armies, and does what he will, without regard to numbers, good sense, or justice."— Rehearsal.] Fortunarum habitum ; juvat, aut impellit ad iram; "Difficile est proprie communia dicere.” — Mde. Dacier, Mde. de Sévigné, Boileau, and others, have left their dispute on the meaning of this passage in a tract considerably longer than the poem of Horace. It is printed at the close of the eleventh volume of Madame de Sévigne's Letters, edited by Grouvelle, Paris, 1806. Presuming that all who can construe may venture an opinion on such subjects, particularly as so many who can not have taken the same liberty, I should have held my "farthing candle" as awkwardly as another, had not my respect for the wits of Louis the Fourteenth's Augustan siècle induced me to subjoin these illustrious authorities. 1st, Boileau: "Il est difficile de traiter des sujets qui sont à la portée de tout le monde d'une manière qui vous les rende propres, ce qui s'appelle s'approprier un sujet par le tour qu'on y donne." 2dly, Batteux: "Mais il est bien difficile de donner des traits propres et individuels aux ètres purement possibles.' 3dly, Dacier: "Il est difficile de traiter convenablement ces caractères que tout le monde peut inventer." Mde. de Sévigné's opinion and translation, consisting of some thirty pages, omit, particularly as M. Grouvelle observes, "La chose est bien remarquable, aucune de ces diverses in And yet, perchance, 'tis wiser to prefer A hackney'd plot, than choose a new, and err; More justly, thought for thought than word for word, Nor trace your prototype through narrow ways, For you, young bard! whom luckless fate may lead To tremble on the nod of all who read, Ere your first score of cantos time unrolls, Beware - for God's sake, don't begin like Bowles! 1 "Awake a louder and a loftier strain," And pray, what follows from his boiling brain? — Publica materies privati juris erit, si Nec circa vilemn patulumque moraberis orbem ; Unde pedem proferre pudor vetet, aut operis lex. terpretations ne parait être la véritable." But by way of comfort, it seems, fifty years afterwards, "Le lumineux Dumarsais made his appearance, to set Horace on his legs again, dissiper tous les nuages, et concilier tous les dissentimens ;" and some fifty years hence, somebody, still more luminous, will doubtless start up and demolish Dumarsais and his system on this weighty affair, as if he were no better than Ptolemy and Tycho, or his comments of no more consequence than astronomical calculations on the present comet. happy to say, "la longueur de la dissertation" of M. D. prevents M. G. from saying any more on the matter. A better poet than Boileau, and at least as good a scholar as Sévigné, has said, I am "A little learning is a dangerous thing." And, by this comparison of comments, it may be perceived how a good deal may be rendered as perilous to the proprietors. -[Dr. Johnson gave the interpretation thus - "He means that it is dithcult to appropriate to particular persons qualities which are common to all mankind, as Homer has "It seems to result from the whole discussion," says Mr. Croker, "that, in the ordinary meaning of the words, the passage is obscure, and that, to make sense, we must either alter the words, or assign to them an unusual interpretation. All commentators are agreed, by the help of the context, what the general meaning must be; but no one seems able verbum verbo reddere fidus interpres. " (Boswell, vol. iii. p. 438.)But, in our humble opinion, Boileau's translation is precisely that of this " fidus interpres."] 1 About two years ago a young man, named Townsend, was announced by Mr. Cumberland* (in a review + since deceased) as being engaged on an epic poem to be entitled "Armageddon. The plan and specimen promise much; but I hope neither to offend Mr. Townsend, nor his friends, by recommending to his attention the lines of Horace to which these rhymes allude. If Mr. Townsend succeeds in his undertaking, as there is reason to hope, how much will the world be indebted to Mr. Cumberland for bringing him before the public! But, till that eventful day arrives, it may be doubted whether the premature display of his plan (sublime as the ideas confessedly are) has not,-by raising expectation too high, or diminishing curiosity, by developing his argument, rather incurred the hazard of injuring Mr. Townsend's future prospects. Mr. Cumberland (whose talents I shall not depreciate by the humble tribute of my praise) and [On the original MS. we find," This note was written" [at Athens] "before the author was apprised of Mr. Cumberland's death." The old littérateur died in May 1811, and had the honour to be buried in Westminster Abbey, and to be eulogised, while the company stood round the grave, in the following manly style by the then dean, Dr. Vincent, his schoolfellow, and through life his friend." Good people! the person you see now deposited is Richard Cumberland, an author of no small merit: his writings were chiefly for the stage, but of strict moral tendency: they were not without faults, but they were not gross, abounding with oaths and libidinous expressions, as, I am shocked to observe, is the case of many of the present day. He wrote as much as any one: few wrote better; and his works will be held in the highest estimation, as long as the English language will be understood. He considered the theatre a school for moral improvement, and his remains are truly worthy of mingl ng He sinks to Southey's level in a trice, Quanto rectius hic, qui nil molitur inepte! Mr. Townsend must not suppose me actuated by unworthy motives in this suggestion. I wish the author all the success he can wish himself, and shall be truly happy to see epic poetry weighed up from the bathos where it lies sunken with Southey, Cottle, Cowley (Mrs. or Abraham), Ogilvy, Wilkie, Pye, and all the " dull of past and present days." Even if he is not & Milton, he may be better than Blackmore; if not a Homer, an Antimachus. I should deem myself presumptuous, as a young man, in offering advice, were it not addressed to one still younger. Mr. Townsend has the greatest difficulties to encounter: but in conquering them he will find employment; in having conquered them, his reward. I know too well"the scribbler's scoff, the critic's contumely;" and I am afraid time will teach Mr. Townsend to know them better. Those who succeed, and those who do not, must bear this alike, and it is hard to say which have most of it. I trust that Mr. Townsend's share will be from envy; - he will soon know mankind well encugh not to attribute this expression to malice. [This was penned at Athens. On his return to England Lord B. wrote to a friend: -"There is a sucking epic poet at Granta, a Mr. Townsend, protégé of the late Cumberland. Did you ever hear of him and his * Armageddon ?' I think his plan (the man I don't know) borders on the sublime; though, perhaps, the anticipation of the Last Day' is a little too daring: at least, it looks like telling the Almighty what he is to do; and might remind an ill-natured person of the line 'And fools rush in where angels fear to tread.' But I don't mean to cavil-only other folks will; and he may bring all the lambs of Jacob Behmen about his ears. However, I hope he will bring it to a conclusion, though Milton is in his way."- All Lord Byron's anticipations, with regard to this poem, were realised to the very letter. To gratify the curiosity which had been excited, Mr. Townsend, in 1815, was induced to publish eight out of the twelve books of which it was to consist. "In the benevolence of his heart, Mr. Cumberland," he says, "bestowed praise on me, certainly too abundantly and prematurely; but I hope that any deficiency on my part may be imputed to the true cause -my own inability to support a subject, under which the greatest mental powers must inevitably sink. My talents were neither equal to my own ambition, nor his zeal to serve me."] 2 [There is more of poetry in these verses upon Milton than in any other passage throughout the paraphrase. MOORE.] Read his prose with the illustrious dead which surround us. subjects on divinity! there you will find the true Christian spirit of the man who trusted in our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. May God forgive him his sins; and, at the resurrection of the just, receive him into everlasting glory!"] + The "London Review," set up in 1889, under Mr. Cumberland's editorial care, did not outlive many numbers. He spoke great things in the prospectus, about the distinguishing feature of the journal: víz. its having the writer's name affixed to the articles. This plan has succeeded pretty well both in France and Germany, but has failed utterly as often as it has been tried in this country. It is needless, however, to go into any speculation on the principle here; for the "London Review," whether sent into the world with or without names, must soon have died of the original disease of dulness.] And truth and fiction with such art compounds, Observe his simple childhood's dawning days, Behold him Freshman ! forced no more to groan O'er Virgil's devilish verses and—his own; Prayers are too tedious, lectures tuo abstruse, He flies from Tavell's frown to "Fordham's Mews;" (Unlucky Tavell! doom'd to daily cares By pugilistic pupils, and by bears,) 3 Fines, tutors, tasks, conventions threat in vain. Before hounds, hunters, and Newmarket plain. Rough with his elders, with his equals rash, Civil to sharpers, prodigal of cash; Constant to nought-save hazard and a whore, Yet cursing both-for both have made him sore; Unread (unless, since books beguile disease, The p-x becomes his passage to degrees); Fool'd, pillaged, dunn'd, he wastes his term away, And, unexpell'd perhaps, retires M. A.; Master of arts! as hells and clubs proclaim, Where scarce a blackleg bears a brighter name! Launch'd into life, extinct his early fire, He apes the selfish prudence of his sire; Marries for money, chooses friends for rank, Buys land, and shrewdly trusts not to the Bank; Non secus ac notas, auditorem rapit, et quæ Imberbis juvenis, tandem custode remoto, 1 Harvey, the circulator of the circulation of the blood, used to fling away Virgil in his ecstasy of admiration, and say, "the book had a devil." Now, such a character as I am copying would probably ding it away also, but rather wish that the devil had the book; not from dislike to the poet, but a well-founded horror of hexameters. Indeed, the public school penance of" Long and Short" is enough to beget an antipathy to poetry for the residue of a man's life, and, perhaps, so far may be an advantage. Sits in the Senate; gets a son and heir; Manhood declines-age palsies every limb; Counts cent per cent, and smiles, or vainly frets, But from the Drama let me not digress, Nor spare my precepts, though they please you less. Though woman weep, and hardest hearts are stirr'd, When what is done is rather seen than heard, Yet many deeds preserved in history's page, Are better told than acted on the stage; The ear sustains what shocks the timid eye, And horror thus subsides to sympathy. True Briton all beside, I here am FrenchBloodshed 't is surely better to retrench; The gladiatorial gore we teach to flow In tragic scene disgusts, though but in show; We hate the carnage while we see the trick, And find small sympathy in being sick. Not on the stage the regicide Macbeth Appals an audience with a monarch's death; To gaze when sable Hubert threats to sear Young Arthur's eyes, can ours or nature bear? A halter'd heroine 5 Johnson sought to slay We saved Irene, but half damn'd the play, Multa senem conveniunt incommoda ; vel quod Quærit, et inventis miser abstinet, ac timet uti; Vel quod res omnes timide gelideque ministrat, Dilator, spe longus, iners, avidusque futuri; Difficilis, querulus, laudator temporis acti Se puero, castigator censorque minorum. Multa ferunt anni venientes commoda secum, Multa recedentes adimunt. Ne forte seniles Mandentur juveni partes, pueroque viriles, Semper in adjunctís, ævoque morabimur aptis. Aut agitur res in scenis, aut acta refertur. Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem Quam quæ sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus, et quæ Ipse sibi tradit spectator. Non tamen intus Digna geri promes in scenam; multaque tolles Ex oculis, quæ mox narret facundia præsens. Ne pueros coram populo Medea trucidet; Aut humana palam coquat exta nefarius Atreus ; Aut in avem Progne vertatur, Cadmus in anguem. Quodcunque ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odi. against some juvenile vagaries, sufficiently explained in Mr. Moore's Notices, vol. i. p. 210.] 4"Hell," a gaming-house so called, where you risk little, and are cheated a good deal. "Club,' a pleasant purgatory, where you lose more, and are not supposed to be cheated at all. "This 5" Irene had to speak two lines with the bowstring round her neck; but the audience cried out Murder!' and she was obliged to go off the stage alive."—Boswell's Johnson. [These two lines were afterwards struck out, and Irene was carried off, to be put to death behind the scenes. shows," says Mr. Malone, "how ready modern audiences are to condemn, in a new play, what they have frequently endured very quietly in an old one. Rowe has made Moneses, in Tamerlane, die by the bowstring without offence." Davies assures us, in his Life of Garrick, that the strangling Irene, contrary to Horace's rule, coram populo, was suggested by Garrick. See Croker's Boswell, vol. i. p. 172.] |