Whereas the Romans [to v. 108] by a more composed temperament and saturnine complexion had devoted their pains to the pursuit of domestic utilities, and a more dexterous management of the arts of gain. The consequence of which was, that when [to v. 117] by the decay of the old frugal spirit, the necessary effect of overflowing plenty and ease, they began, at length, to seek out for the elegancies of life; and a fit of versifying, the first of all liberal amusements, that usually seizes an idle people, had come upon them; their ignorance of rules, and want of exercise in the art of writing, rendered them wholly unfit to succeed in it. So that their awkward attempts in poetry were now as disgraceful to their taste, as their total disregard of it, before, had been to their civility. The root of this mischief was the idolatrous regard paid to their ancient poets: which unluckily, when the public emulation was set a going, not only checked its progress, but gave it a wrong bias; and, instead of helping true genius to outstrip the lame and tardy endeavours of ancient wit, drew it aside into a vicious and unprofitable mimicry of its very imperfections. Whence it had come to pass, that, whereas in other arts, the previous knowledge of rules is required to the practice of them, in this of versifying, no such qualification was deemed necessary.
Scribimus indocti doctique poemata passim.
This mischance was doubly fatal to the Latin poetry. For the ill success of these blind adventurers had increased the original mischief, by confirming, as it needs must, the superstitious reverence of the old writers; and insensibly brought, as well the art itself, as the modern professors of it, into disrepute with the discerning public. The vindication of both, then, at this critical juncture, was become highly seasonable; and to this, which was the poet’s main purpose, he addresses himself through the remainder of the epistle.
118 to the end. Hic error tamen, &c.] Having sufficiently obviated the popular and reigning prejudices against the modern poets, his office of advocate for their fame, which he had undertaken, and was now to discharge, in form, required him to set their real merits and pretensions in a just light. He enters therefore immediately on this task. And, in drawing the character of the true poet, endeavours to impress the Emperor with as advantageous an idea as possible, of the worth and dignity of his calling. And this, not in the fierce insulting tone of a zealot for the honour of his order, which to the great is always disgusting, and where the occasion is, confessedly, not of the last importance, plainly absurd; but with that unpretending air of insinuation, which good sense, improved by a thorough knowledge of the world, teaches: with that seeming indifference which disarms prejudice: in a word, with that gracious smile in his aspect, which his strong admirer and faint copyer, Persius, so justly noted in him, and which convinces almost without the help of argument; or to say it more truly, persuades where it doth not properly convince. In this disposition he sets out on his defence; and yet omits no particular, which could any way serve to the real recommendation of poets, or which indeed, the gravest or warmest of their friends have ever pleaded in their behalf. This defence consists [from v. 118 to 139] in bringing into view their many civil, moral, and religious virtues. For the muse, as the poet contends (and nothing could be more likely to conciliate the esteem of the politic emperor) administers, in this threefold capacity, to the service of the state.
But Religion, which was its noblest end, was, besides, the first object of poetry. The dramatic muse, in particular, had her birth, and derived her very character, from it. This circumstance then leads him with advantage, to give an historical deduction of the rise and progress of the Latin poesy, from its first rude workings in the days of barbarous superstition, through every successive period of its improvement, down to his own times. Such a view of its descent and gradual reformation was directly to the poet’s purpose. For having magnified the virtues of his order, as of such importance to society, the question naturally occurred, by what unhappy means it had fallen out, that it was, nevertheless, in such low estimation with the public. The answer is, that the state of the Latin poetry, as yet, was very rude and imperfect: and so the public disregard was occasioned, only, by its not having attained to that degree of perfection, of which its nature was capable. Many reasons had concurred to keep the Latin poetry in this state, which he proceeds to enumerate. The first and principal was [from v. 139 to 164] the little attention paid to critical learning, and the cultivation of a correct and just spirit of composition. Which, again, had arisen from the coarse illiberal disposition of the Latin muse, who had been nurtured and brought up under the roof of rural superstition; and this, by an impure mixture of licentious jollity, had so corrupted her very nature, that it was only by slow degrees, and not till the conquest of Greece had imported arts and learning into Italy, that she began to chastise her manners, and assume a juster and more becoming deportment. And still she was but in the condition of a rustic beauty, when, practising her aukward airs, and making her first ungracious essays towards a manner.
in longum tamen aevum
Manserunt, hodieque manent vestigia ruris.
Her late acquaintance with the Greek models had, indeed, improved her air, and inspired an inclination to emulate their noblest graces. But how successfully, we are given to understand from her unequal attempts in the two sublimer species of their poetry, the TRAGIC, AND COMIC DRAMAS.
1. [from v. 160 to 168] The study of the Greek tragedians had very naturally, and to good purpose, in the infancy of their taste, disposed the Latin writers to translation. Here they stuck long; for their tragedy, even in the Augustan age, was little else; and yet they succeeded but indifferently in it. The bold and animated genius of Rome was, it is readily owned, well suited to this work. And for force of colouring, and a truly tragic elevation, the Roman poets came not behind their great originals. But unfortunately their judgment was unformed, and they were too soon satisfied with their own productions. Strength and fire was all they endeavoured after. And with this praise they sate down perfectly contented. The discipline of correction, the curious polishing of art, which had given such a lustre to the Greek tragedians, they knew nothing of; or, to speak their case more truly, they held disgraceful to the high spirit and energy of the Roman genius:
TURPEM PUTAT IN SCRIPTIS METUITQUE LITURAM.
2. It did not fare better with them [from v. 168 to 175] in their attempts to rival the Greek comedy. They preposterously set out with the notion of its being easier to execute this drama than the tragic: whereas to hit its genuine character with exactness was, in truth, a point of much more difficulty. As the subject of comedy was taken from common life, they supposed an ordinary degree of care might suffice, to do it justice. No wonder then, they overlooked or never came up to that nice adjustment of the manners, that truth and decorum of character, wherein the glory of comic painting consists, and which none but the quickest eye can discern, and the steadiest hand execute; and, in the room, amused us with high colouring, and false drawing; with extravagant, aggravated portraitures; which, neglecting the modest proportion of real life, are the certain arguments of an unpractised pencil, or vicious taste.