PREFACE OF THE TRANSLATOR, With a Parallel, Of Poetry and Painting.
IT may be reasonably expected, that I shou'd say something on my own behalf, in respect to my present Undertaking. First, then, the Reader may be pleas'd to know, that it was not of my own choice that I undertook this Work. Many of our most Skillfull Painters, and other Artists, were pleas'd to recommend this Authour to me, as one who perfectly under∣stood the Rules of Painting; who gave the best and most concise Instructions for Performance, and the surest to inform the Judgment of all who Page ij lov'd this noble Art. That they who before were rather fond of it, than knowingly admir'd it, might defend their Inclination by their Reason: that they might understand those Excellencies which they blindly valu'd, so as not to be farther impos'd on by bad Pieces, and to know when Nature was well imitated by the most able Ma∣sters. 'Tis true indeed, and they acknowledge it, that beside the Rules which are given in this Treatise, or which can be given in any other, that to make a perfect Judgment of good Pictures, and to value them more or less when compar'd with one another, there is farther requir'd a long conversation with the best Pieces, which are not very frequent either in France or England; yet some we have, not onely from the hands of Holbein, Rubens, and Vandyck, (one of them ad∣mirable for History-painting, and the other two for Portraits,) but of many Flemish-Masters, and those not inconsiderable, though for Design, not equal to the Italians. And of these latter also, we are not unfurnish'd with some Pieces of Ra∣phael, Titian, Correggio, Michael Angelo and others. But to return to my own undertaking of this Translation, I freely own, that I thought my self uncapable of performing it, either to their Sa∣tisfaction, or my own Credit. Not but that I Page iij understood the Original Latine, and the French Au∣thour perhaps as well as most Englishmen; But I was not sufficiently vers'd in the Terms of Art: And therefore thought that many of those persons who put this honourable task on me, were more able to perform it themselves, as undoubtedly they were. But they assuring me of their assi∣stance, in correcting my faults where I spoke im∣properly, I was encourag'd to attempt it; that I might not be wanting in what I cou'd, to sa∣tisfie the desires of so many Gentlemen who were willing to give the world this usefull Work. They have effectually perform'd their promise to me; and I have been as carefull on my side, to take their advice in all things; so that the Reader may assure himself of a tolerable Translation. Not Elegant, for I propos'd not that to my self: but familiar, clear and instructive. In any of which parts, if I have fail'd, the fault lies wholly at my door. In this one particular onely I must beg the Readers pardon. The Prose Translation of the Poem is not free from Poetical Expressions, and I dare not promise that some of them are not fustian, or at least highly metaphorical; but this being a fault in the first digestion (that is, the Original Latine) was not to be remedy'd in the second (viz.) the Translation. And I may confi∣dently Page iv say, that whoever had attempted it, must have fallen into the same inconvenience; or a much greater, that of a false Version. When I undertook this Work, I was already ingag'd in the Translation of Virgil, from whom I have bor∣row'd onely two months, and am now return∣ing to that which I ought to understand better. In the mean time I beg the Readers pardon, for entertaining him so long with my self: 'Tis an u∣sual part of ill manners in all Authours, and al∣most in all Mankind, to trouble others with their business; and I was so sensible of it before∣hand, that I had not now committed it, unless some concernments of the Readers had been inter∣woven with my own. But I know not, while I am attoning for one Error, if I am not falling into another: for I have been importun'd to say something farther of this Art; and to make some Observations on it in relation to the likeness and agreement which it has with Poetry its Sister. But before I proceed, it will not be amiss, if I copy from Bellori (a most ingenious Authour, yet living) some part of his Idea of a Painter, which cannot be unpleasing, at least to such who are conversant in the Philosophy of Plato. And to avoid tediousness, I will not translate the whole Discourse, but take and leave as I find occasion.
Page vGod Almighty, in the Fabrique of the Universe, first contemplated himself, and reflected on his own Excellencies; from which he drew, and constituted those first Forms, which are call'd Idea's. So that every Species which was afterwards express'd was pro∣duc'd from that first Idea, forming that wonderfull contexture of all created Beings. But the Coelestial Bodies above the Moon being incorruptible, and not sub∣ject to change, remain'd for ever fair, and in perpetu∣al order: On the contrary, all things which are sublu∣nary are subject to change, to deformity, and to decay. And though Nature always intends a consummate beau∣ty in her productions, yet through the inequality of the Matter, the Forms are alter'd; and in particular, Humane Beauty suffers alteration for the worse, as we see to our mortification, in the deformities, and dis∣proportions which are in us. For which reason the Artfull Painter and the Sculptour, imitating the Di∣vine Maker, form to themselves as well as they are able, a Model of the Superiour Beauties; and reflecting on them endeavour to correct and amend the common Nature; and to represent it as it was first created without fault, either in Colour or in Lineament.
This Idea, which we may call the Goddess of Pain∣ting and of Sculpture, descends upon the Marble and the Cloth, and becomes the Original of those Arts; and being measur'd by the Compass of the Intellect, is it Page vi self the Measure of the performing Hand; and being an••mated by the Imagination, infuses Life into the Image. The Idea of the Painter and the Sculptour, is undoubtedly that perfect and excellent Example of the Mind; by imitation of which imagin'd form, all things are represented which fall under humane sight: Such is the Definition which is made by Cicero in his Book of the Oratour to Brutus. "As therefore in Forms and Figures there is somewhat which is Excel∣lent and Perfect, to which imagin'd Species all things are referr'd by Imitation which are the Objects of Sight, in like manner we behold the Species of Eloquence in our Minds, the Effigies, or actual Image of which we seek in the Organs of our Hear∣ing. This is likewise confirm'd by Proclus in the Dialogue of Plato call'd Timaeus: If, says he, you take a Man, as he is made by Nature, and compare him with another who is the effect of Art; the work of Nature will always appear the less beau∣tifull, because Art is more accurate than Nature." But Zeuxis, who from the choice which he made of Five Virgins drew that wonderfull Picture of He∣lena, which Cicero in his Oratour beforemention'd, sets before us as the most perfect Example of Beauty, at the same time admonishes a Painter, to contemplate the Idea's of the most Natural Forms; and to make a judicious choice of several Bodies, all of them the most Page vij Elegant which he can find. By which we may plainly understand that he thought it impossible to find in any one Body all those Perfections which he sought for the accomplishment of a Helena, because Nature in any individual person makes nothing that is perfect in all its parts. For this reason Maximus Tyrius also says, that the Image which is taken by a Painter from seve∣ral Bodies produces a Beauty, which it is impossible to find in any single Natural Body, approaching to the perfection of the fairest Statues. Thus Nature on this account is so much inferiour to Art, that those Artists who propose to themselves onely the imitation and likeness of such or such a particular person, without election of those Idea's before-mention'd, have often been reproach'd for that omission: Demetrius was tax'd for being too Natural; Dionysius was also blam'd for drawing Men like us, and was commonly call'd' 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, that is, a Painter of Men. In our times Michael Angelo da Caravaggio, was esteem'd too Natural. He drew persons as they were; and Bambovio, and most of the Dutch Painters have drawn the worst likeness. Lysippus of old, upbraided the common sort of Sculptours, for making Men such as they were found in Nature; and boasted of himself that he made them as they ought to be: which is a Precept of Aristotle, given as well to Poets as to Painters. Phidias rais'd an admiration even to asto∣nishment, Page viij in those who beheld his Statues, with the Forms, which he gave to his Gods and Heroes; by imitating the Idea rather than Nature. And Ci∣cero speaking of him affirms, that figuring Jupiter and Pallas, he did not contemplate any Object from whence he took the likeness, but consider'd in his own mind a great and admirable form of Beauty, and accor∣ding to that Image in his Soul, he directed the operation of his Hand. Seneca also seems to wonder, that Phidias having never beheld either Jove or Pallas, yet cou'd conceive their divine Images in his Mind. Apollonius Tyanaeus says the same in other words, that the fancy more instructs the Painter than the imi∣tation; for the last makes onely the things which it sees, but the first makes also the things which it never sees.
Leon Battista Alberti tells us, that we ought not so much to love the likeness as the beauty, and to choose from the fairest Bodies severally the fairest Parts. Leonardo da Vinci instructs the Painter to form this Idea to himself: And Raphael, the greatest of all modern Masters, writes thus to Castiglione, concer∣ning his Galatea: "To paint a Fair one, 'tis necessary for me to see many Fair ones; but because there is so great a scarcity of lovely Women, I am constrain'd to make use of one certain Idea, which I have form'd to my self in my own fancy." Guido Reni sending to Page ix Rome his St. Michael which he had painted for the Church of the Capuchins, at the same time wrote to Monsignor Massano, who was Maestro di Casa (or Steward of the House) to Pope Urban the Eighth, in this manner. I wish I had the wings of an Angel, to have ascended into Paradise, and there to have be∣held the Forms of those beatify'd Spirits, from which I might have copy'd my Archangel: But not being able to mount so high, it was in vain for me to search his resemblance here below: so that I was forc'd to make an Introspection, into my own mind, and into that Idea of Beauty, which I have form'd in my own imagination. I have likewise created there the contrary Idea of de∣formity and ugliness; but I leave the consideration of it, till I paint the Devil: and in the mean time shun the very thought of it as much as possibly I can, and am even endeavouring to blot it wholly out of my re∣membrance. There was not any Lady in all Antiquity, who was Mistress of so much Beauty as was to be found in the Venus of Gnidus, made by Praxiteles, or the Minerva of Athens by Phydias; which was therefore call'd the Beautifull Form. Neither is there any Man of the present Age, equal in the strength, proportion, and knitting of his Limbs, to the Hercules of Farnese, made by Glicon: Or any Woman who can justly be compar'd with the Medicean Venus of Cleo∣menes. And upon this account, the noblest Poets Page x and the best Oratours, when they desir'd to celebrate any extraordinary Beauty, are forc'd to have recourse to Statues and Pictures, and to draw their Persons and Faces into Comparison. Ovid endeavouring to express the Beauty of Cillarus, the fairest of the Centaures, celebrates him as next in perfection, to the most admirable Statues.
In another place he sets Apelles above Venus.
Page xiThe Idea of this Beauty, is indeed various, accor∣ding to the several forms which the Painter or Scul∣ptour wou'd describe: As one in Strength, another in Magnanimity; and sometimes it consists in Chearfulness, and sometimes in Delicacy; and is always diversify'd by the Sex and Age.
The Beauty of Jove is one, and that of Juno ano∣ther: Hercules, and Cupid are perfect Beauties, though of different kinds; for Beauty is onely that which makes all things as they are in their proper and perfect Nature; which the best Painters always choose by contemplating the Forms of each. We ought farther to consider, that a Picture being the representation of a humane action, the Painter ought to retain in his mind, the Examples of all Affections, and Passions, as a Poet preserves the Idea of an Angry man, of one who is fearfull, sad or merry, and so of all the rest. For 'tis impossible to express that with the Hand, which never enter'd into the Imagination. In this manner as I have rudely and briefly shewn you, Painters and Scul∣ptours, choosing the most elegant natural Beauties, per∣fectionate the Idea, and advance their Art, even above Nature it self, in her individual productions, which is the utmost mastery of humane performance.
From hence arises that astonishment, and almost ado∣ration which is paid by the Knowing to those divine re∣mainders of Antiquity. From hence Phydias, Ly∣sippus, Page xij and other noble Sculptours, are still held in veneration; and Apelles, Zeuxis, Protogenes, and other admirable Painters, though their Works are pe∣rish'd, are and will be eternally admir'd; who all of them drew after the Idea's of Perfection; which are the Miracles of Nature, the Providence of the Under∣standing, the Exemplars of the Mind, the Light of the Fancy; the Sun which from its rising, inspir'd the Statue of Memnon, and the fire which warm'd into life the Image of Prometheus: 'Tis this which causes the Graces, and the Loves to take up their habitations in the hardest Marble, and to subsist in the emptiness of Light, and Shadows. But since the Idea of Elo∣quence is as far inferiour to that of Painting, as the force of Words is to the Sight; I must here break off abruptly, and having conducted the Reader as it were to a secret Walk, there leave him in the midst of Silence to contemplate those Idea's; which I have onely sketch'd, and which every man must finish for himself.
In these pompous Expressions, or such as these the Italian has given you his Idea of a Painter; and though I cannot much commend the Style, I must needs say there is somewhat in the Matter: Plato himself is accustom'd to write loftily, imi∣tating, as the Critiques tell us, the manner of Ho∣mer; but surely that inimitable Poet, had not so much of Smoke in his writing, though not less of Page xiij Fire. But in short, this is the present Genius of Italy. What Philostratus tells us in the Proem of his Figures is somewhat plainer; and therefore I will translate it almost word for word. "He who will rightly govern the Art of Painting, ought of necessity first to understand Humane Nature. He ought likewise to be endued with a Genius to express the signs of their Passions whom he represents; and to make the dumb as it were to speak: He must yet further understand what is contain'd in the con∣stitution of the Cheeks, in the temperament of the Eyes, in the naturalness (if I may so call it) of the Eye-brows: and in short whatsoever belongs to the Mind and Thought. He who throughly possesses all these things will obtain the whole. And the Hand will exquisitely represent the action of every particu∣lar person. If it happen that he be either mad, or angry, melancholique, or chearfull, a sprightly Youth, or a languishing Lover; in one word, he will be able to paint whatsoever is proportionable to any one. And even in all this there is a sweet errour without causing any shame. For the Eyes and Minds of the beholders being fasten'd on Objects which have no real Being, as if they were truly Existent, and be∣ing induc'd by them to believe them so, what pleasure is it not capable of giving? The Ancients, and other Wise Men, have written many things concer∣ning Page xiv the Symmetry which is in the Art of Paint∣ing; constituting as it were some certain Laws for the proportion of every Member, not thinking it possible for a Painter to undertake the expression of those motions which are in the Mind, without a con∣current Harmony in the natural measure. For that which is out of its own kind and measure, is not receiv'd from Nature, whose motion is always right. On a serious consideration of this matter it will be found, That the Art of Painting has a wonderfull affinity with that of Poetry; and that there is betwixt them a certain common Imagination. For as the Poets introduc•• the Gods and Heroes, and all those things which are either Majestical, Ho∣nest or Delightfull, in like manner the Painters, by the virtue of their Out-lines, Colours, Lights and Shadows, represent the same Things and Persons in their Pictures."
Thus, as Convoy Ships either accompany, or shou'd accompany their Merchants till they may prosecute the rest of their Voyage without danger, so Philostratus has brought me thus far on my way, and I can now sail on without him. He has begun to speak of the great relation betwixt Painting and Poetry, and thither the greatest part of this Discourse by my promise was directed. I have not ingag'd my self to any perfect Method, Page xv neither am I loaded with a full Cargo. 'Tis sufficient if I bring a Sample of some Goods in this Voyage. It will be easie for others to add more when the Commerce is settled. For a Trea∣tise twice as large as this of Painting cou'd not contain all that might be said on the Parallel of these two Sister Arts. I will take my rise from Bellori before I proceed to the Authour of this Book.
The business of his Preface is to prove, that a learned Painter shou'd form to himself an Idea of perfect Nature. This Image he is to set before his Mind in all his Undertakings, and to draw from thence as from a Store-house, the Beauties which are to enter into his Work; thereby cor∣recting Nature from what actually she is in indi∣viduals, to what she ought to be, and what she was created. Now as this Idea of Perfection is of little use in Portraits (or the resemblances of par∣ticular persons) so neither is it in the Characters of Comedy, and Tragedy; which are never to be made perfect, but always to be drawn with some specks of frailty and deficience; such as they have been described to us in History, if they were real Characters; or such as the Poet began to shew them at their first appearance, if they were onely ficti∣tious, (or imaginary.) The perfection of such Page xvi Stage-characters consists chiefly in their likeness to the deficient faulty Nature, which is their Origi∣nal. Onely, as it is observ'd more at large here∣after, in such cases•• there will always be found a better likeness, and a worse; and the better is constantly to be chosen: I mean in Tragedy, which represents the Figures of the highest form amongst Mankind. Thus in Portraits, the Pain∣ter will not take that side of the Face which has some notorious blemish in it; but either draw it in profile (as Apelles did Antigonus, who had lost one of his Eyes) or else shadow the more imper∣fect side. For an ingenious flattery is to be al∣low'd to the Professours of both Arts; so long as the likeness is not destroy'd. 'Tis true that all manner of Imperfections must not be taken away from the Characters, and the reason is, that there may be left some grounds of pity for their mis∣fortunes. We can never be griev'd for their mi∣series who are thoroughly wicked, and have there∣by justly call'd their calamities on themselves. Such Men are the natural Objects of our hatred, not of our commiseration. If on the other side their Characters were wholly perfect, (such as for Example, the Character of a Saint or Martyr in a Play,) his, or her misfortunes, wou'd produce impious thoughts in the Beholders: they wou'd Page xvij accuse the Heavens of injustice, and think of lea∣ving a Religion, where Piety was so ill requited. I say the greater part wou'd be tempted so to do, I say not that they ought: and the consequence is too dangerous for the practice. In this I have accus'd my self for my own St. Catharine, but let truth prevail. Sophocles has taken the just medium in his Oedipus. He is somewhat arrogant at his first entrance; and is too inquisitive through the whole Tragedy: Yet these Imperfections being ba∣lanc'd by great Vertues, they hinder not our com∣passion for his miseries; neither yet can they de∣stroy that horrour which the nature of his Crimes have excited in us. Such in Painting are the Warts and Moles, which adding a likeness to the Face, are not therefore to be omitted. But these pro∣duce no loathing in us. But how far to proceed, and where to stop, is left to the judgment of the Poet and the Painter. In Comedy there is some∣what more of the worse likeness to be taken. Be∣cause that is often to produce laughter; which is occasion'd by the sight of some deformity: but for this I referr the Reader to Aristotle. 'Tis a sharp manner of Instruction for the Vulgar who are never well amended, till they are more than sufficiently expos'd. That I may return to the beginning of this Remark, concerning perfect Page xviij Idea's, I have onely this to say, that the Parallel is often true in Epique-Poetry.
The Heroes of the Poets are to be drawn accor∣ding to this Rule. There is scarce a frailty to be left in the best of them; any more than is to be found in a Divine Nature. And if Aeneas some∣times weeps, it is not in bemoaning his own mi∣series, but those which his people undergo. If this be an Imperfection, the Son of God when he was incarnate shed tears of Compassion over Ie∣rusalem. And Lentulus describes him often weep∣ing, but never laughing; so that Virgil is justify'd even from the Holy Scriptures. I have but one word more, which for once I will anticipate from the Authour of this Book. Though it must be an Idea of Perfection, from which both the Epique Poet, and the History Painter draws; yet all Per∣fections are not suitable to all Subjects: But eve∣ry one must be design'd according to that per∣fect Beauty which is proper to him. An Apollo must be distinguish'd from a Iupiter, a Pallas from a Venus: and so in Poetry an Aeneas from any other Heroe: for Piety is his chief Perfection. Homer's Achilles is a kind of Exception to this Rule: but then he is not a perfect Heroe, nor so intend∣ed by the Poet. All his Gods had somewhat of humane imperfection; for which he has been Page xix tax'd by Plato, as an Imitatour of what was bad. But Virgil observ'd his fault, and mended it. Yet Achilles was perfect in the strength of his Bo∣dy, and the vigour of his Mind. Had he been less passionate, or less revengefull, the Poet well foresaw that Hector had been kill'd, and Troy ta∣ken at the first assault; which had destroy'd the beautifull contrivance of his Iliads, and the moral of preventing Discord amongst Confederate Princes, which was his principal intention. For the Moral (as Bossu observes) is the first business of the Poet, as being the ground-work of his In∣struction. This being form'd, he contrives such a Design, or Fable, as may be most suitable to the Moral. After this he begins to think of the Persons, whom he is to employ in carrying on his Design: and gives them the Manners, which are most proper to their several Characters. The thoughts and words are the last parts, which give Beauty and Colouring to the Piece. When I say, that the Manners of the Heroe ought to be good in perfection, I contradict not the Marquess of Nor∣manby's opinion, in that admirable Verse, where speaking of a perfect Character, he calls it A Fault∣less Monster, which the World ne'er knew. For that Excellent Critique, intended onely to speak of Dra∣matique Characters, and not of Epique. Thus at Page xx lea••t I have shewn, that in the most perfect Poem, which is that of Virgil, a perfect Idea was requir'd, and follow'd. And consequently that all succee∣ding Poets ought rather to imitate him, than even Homer. I will now proceed as I promis'd, to the Authour of this Book. He tells you almost in the first lines of it, that the chief end of Painting is to please the Eyes: and 'tis one great End of Poetry to please the Mind. Thus far the Parallel of the Arts holds true: with this difference, That the Principal end of Painting is to please; and the chief design of Poetry is to instruct. In this the latter seems to have the advantage of the former. But if we con∣sider the Artists themselves on both sides, certain∣ly their aims are the very same: they wou'd both make sure of pleasing, and that in preference to instruction. Next, the means of this pleasure is by Deceipt. One imposes on the Sight, and the other on the Understanding. Fiction is of the Es∣sence of Poetry as well as of Painting; there is a resemblance in one, of Humane Bodies, Things and Actions which are not real, and in the other, of a true Story by a Fiction. And as all Stories are not proper Subjects for an Epique Poem, or a Tra∣gedy, so neither are they for a noble Picture. The Subjects both of the one, and of the other, ought to have nothing of immoral, low, or filthy in Page xxi them; but this being treated at large in the Book it¦self, I wave it to avoid repetition. Onely I must add, that though•• Catullus, Ovid and others were of a∣nother opinion, that the Subject of Poets, and even their thoughts and expressions might be loose, pro∣vided their lives were chast and holy, yet there are no such licences permitted in that Art any more than in Painting, to design and colour obscene Nudities. Vita proba est, is no excuse, for it will scarcely be admitted, that either a Poet or a Painter can be chast, who give us the contrary examples in their Writings and their Pictures. We see nothing of this kind in Virgil: that which comes the nearest to it, is the adventure of the Cave, where Dido and Aeneas were driven by the Storm: Yet even there the Poet pretends a Marriage before the Consum∣mation; and Iuno her self was present at it. Nei∣ther is there any expression in that Story, which a Roman Matron might not reade without a blush. Besides the Poet passes it over as hastily as he can, as if he were afraid of staying in the Cave with the two Lovers, and of being a witness to their Actions. Now I suppose that a Painter wou'd not be much commended, who shou'd pick out this Cavern from the whole Eneids, when there is not another in the Work. He had better leave them in their obscurity, than let in a flash of Page xxij Lightning to clear the natural darkness of the place, by which he must discover himself as much as them. The Altar-Pieces, and holy Decorati∣ons of Painting, show that Art may be apply'd to better uses, as well as Poetry.
And amongst many other instances, the Far∣nesian Gallery, painted by Hannibal Carracci, is a sufficient witness yet remaining: the whole Work being morally instructive, and particularly the Herculis Bivium, which is a perfect Triumph of Vertue over Vice, as it is wonderfully well de∣scrib'd by the ingenious Bellori.
Hitherto I have onely told the Reader what ought not to be the subject of a Picture or of a Poem: what it ought to be on either side; our Author tells us: it must in general be great and noble: and in this, the Parallel is exactly true. The subject of a Poet either in Tragedy or in an Epique Poem is a great action of some illustrious Hero. 'Tis the same in Painting; not every a∣ction, nor every person is considerable enough to enter into the Cloth. It must be the Anger of an Achilles, the Piety of an Aeneas, the Sacrifice of an Iphigenia (for Heroins as well as Heroes are comprehended in the Rule;) but the Parallel is more compleat in Tragedy, than in an Epique Poem. For as a Tragedy may be made out of Page xxiij many particular Episodes of Homer or of Virgil, so may a noble Picture be design'd out of this or that particular Story in either Author. History is also fruitfull of designs both for the Painter and the Tragique Poet: Curtius throwing himself into a Gulph, and the two Decii sacrificing themselves for the safety of their Country, are subjects for Tra∣gedy and Picture. Such is Scipio restoring the Spa∣nish Bride, whom he either lov'd or may be sup∣sos'd to love, by which he gain'd the Hearts of a great Nation, to interess themselves for Rome against Carthage: These are all but particular Pieces in Livy's History; and yet are full com∣pleat Subjects for the Pen and Pencil. Now the reason of this is evident. Tragedy and Picture are more narrowly circumscrib'd by the Mechanick Rules of Time and Place than the Epique Poem. The time of this last is left indefinite. 'Tis true, Homer took up onely the space of eight and for∣ty days for his Iliads; but whether Virgil's action was comprehended in a year or somewhat more, is not determin'd by Bossu. Homer made the place of his action Troy, and the Grecian Camp besieging it. Virgil introduces his Aeneas, sometimes in Si∣cily, sometimes in Carthage, and other times at Cu∣mae, before he brings him to Laurentum; and even after that, he wanders again to the Kingdom of Page xxiv Evander and some parts of Tuscany, before he re∣turns to finish the War by the death of Turnus. But Tragedy according to the Practice of the Anci∣ents, was always confin'd within the compass of 24 hours, and seldom takes up so much time. As for the place of it, it was always one, and that not in a larger Sence; as for example, A whole City or two or three several Houses in it; but the Market or some other publick place, com∣mon to the Chorus and all the Actours. Which establish'd Law of theirs, I have not an oppor∣tunity to examine in this place, because I cannot do it without digression from my subject, though it seems too strict at the first appearance because it excludes all secret Intrigues, which are the Beau∣ties of the modern Stage: for nothing can be car∣ry'd on with Privacy, when the Chorus is suppos'd to be always present. But to proceed, I must say this to the advantage of Painting, even above Tragedy, that what this last represents in the space of many Hours, the former shows us in one Mo∣ment. The Action, the Passion, and the man∣ners of so many Persons as are contain'd in a Picture, are to be discern'd at once, in the twink∣ling of an Eye; at least they would be so, if the Sight could travel over so many different Objects all at once, or the Mind could digest them all at Page xxv the same instant or point of time. Thus in the famous Picture of Poussin, which represents the Institution of the Blessed Sacrament, you see our Saviour and his twelve Disciples, all concurring in the same action, after different manners, and in different postures, onely the manners of Iudas are distinguish'd from the rest. Here is but one indivisible point of time observ'd: but one acti∣on perform'd by so many Persons, in one Room and at the same Table: yet the Eye cannot comprehend at once the whole Object, nor the Mind follow it so fast; 'tis consider'd at leisure, and seen by intervals. Such are the Subjects of Noble Pictures: and such are onely to be un∣dertaken by Noble Hands. There are other parts of Nature, which are meaner, and yet are the Subjects both of Painters, and of Poets.
For to proceed in the Parallel, as Comedy is a representation of Humane Life, in inferiour per∣sons, and low Subjects, and by that means creeps into the nature of Poetry, and is a kind of Iuni∣per, a Shrub belonging to the species of Cedar, so is the painting of Clowns, the representation of a Dutch Kermis, the brutal sport of Snick or Snee, and a thousand other things of this mean inventi∣on, a kind of Picture, which belongs to Nature, but of the lowest form. Such is a Lazar in com∣parison Page xxvi to a Venus; both are drawn in Humane Figures: they have Faces alike, though not like Faces. There is yet a lower sort of Poetry and Painting, which is out of Nature. For a Farce is that in Poetry, which Grotesque is in a Picture. The Persons, and Action of a Farce are all unnatural, and the Manners false, that is, inconsisting with the characters of Mankind. Grotesque-painting is the just resemblance of this; and Horace begins his Art of Poetry by describing such a Figure; with a Man's Head, a Horse's Neck, the Wings of a Bird, and a Fishes Tail; parts of different species jumbled together, according to the mad imagi∣nation of the Dawber; and the end of all this, as he tells you afterward, to cause Laughter. A ve∣ry Monster in a Bartholomew-Fair for the Mob to gape at for their two-pence. Laughter is indeed the propriety of a Man, but just enough to di∣stinguish him from his elder Brother, with four Legs. 'Tis a kind of Bastard-pleasure too, ta∣ken in at the Eyes of the vulgar gazers, and at the Ears of the beastly Audience. Church-Pain∣ters use it to divert the honest Countryman at Pub∣lick Prayers, and keep his Eyes open at a heavy Sermon. And Farce-Scriblers make use of the same noble invention to entertain Citizens, Country-Gentlemen, and Covent-Garden Fops. If they are Page xxvij merry, all goes well on the Poet's side. The bet∣ter sort goe thither too, but in despair of Sense, and the just Images of Nature, which are the ade∣quate pleasures of the Mind. But the Authour can give the Stage no better than what was given him by Nature: and the Actors must represent such things, as they are capable to perform, and by which both they and the Scribbler may get their living. After all, 'tis a good thing to laugh at any rate, and if a straw can tickle a man, 'tis an instrument of happiness. Beasts can weep when they suffer, but they cannot laugh. And as Sir William Davenant observes in his Preface to Gon∣dibert, 'Tis the wisdom of a Government to permit Plays (he might have added Farces) as 'tis the pru∣dence of a Carter to put Bells upon his Horses, to make them carry their Burthens chearfully.
I have already shewn, that one main end of Poetry and Painting is to please, and have said something of the kinds of both, and of their Sub∣jects, in which they bear a great resemblance to each other. I must now consider them, as they are great and noble Arts; and as they are Arts, they must have Rules which may direct them to their common end.
To all Arts and Sciences, but more particularly to these may be apply'd what Hippocrates says of Page xxviij Physick, as I find him cited by an eminent French Critique. "Medicine has long subsisted in the World. The Principles of it are certain, and it has a certain way; by both which there has been found in the course of many Ages, an infinite num∣ber of things, the experience of which has confirm'd its usefulness and goodness. All that is wanting to the perfection of this Art, will undoubtedly be found, if able Men, and such as are instructed in the An∣cient Rules will make a farther enquiry into it, and endeavour to arrive at that, which is hitherto un∣known, by that which is already known. But all, who having rejected the Ancient Rules, and taken the opposite ways, yet boast themselves to be Masters of this Art, do but deceive others, and are them∣selves deceiv'd; for that is absolutely impossible."
This is notoriously true in these two Arts: for the way to please being to imitate Nature; both the Poets and the Painters, in Ancient times, and in the best Ages, have study'd her: and from the practice of both these Arts, the Rules have been drawn, by which we are instructed how to please, and to compass that end which they obtain'd, by following their Example. For Nature is still the same in all Ages, and can never be contrary to her self. Thus from the practice of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, Aristotle drew his Rules Page xxix for Tragedy; and Philostratus for Painting. Thus amongst the Moderns, the Italian and French Cri∣tiques by studying the Precepts of Aristotle, and Horace, and having the Example of the Grecian Poets before their Eyes, have given us the Rules of Modern Tragedy: and thus the Critiques of the same Countries, in the Art of Painting have given the Precepts of perfecting that Art. 'Tis true that Poetry has one advantage over Painting in these last Ages, that we have still the remaining Ex∣amples both of the Greek and Latine Poets: where∣as the Painters have nothing left them from Apel∣les, Protogenes, Parrhasius, Xeuxis and the rest, but onely the testimonies which are given of their incomparable Works. But instead of this, they have some of their best Statues, Bass-Relievo's, Columns, Obilisques, &c. which were sav'd out of the common ruine, and are still preserv'd in Ita∣ly: and by well distinguishing what is proper to Sculpture, and what to Painting, and what is com∣mon to them both, they have judiciously repair'd that loss. And the great Genius of Raphael, and others, having succeeded to the times of Barbarism and Ignorance, the knowledge of Painting is now arriv'd to a supreme perfection, though the per∣formance of it is much declin'd in the present Age. The greatest Age for Poetry amongst the Romans Page xxx was certainly that of Augustus Caesar; and yet we are told that Painting was then at its lowest Ebb, and perhaps Sculpture was also declining at the same time. In the Reign of Domitian, and some who succeeded him, Poetry was but meanly cul∣tivated, but Painting eminently flourish'd. I am not here to give the History of the two Arts; how they were both in a manner extinguish'd, by the Irruption of the barbarous Nations, and both re∣stor'd about the times of Leo the Tenth, Charles the Fifth, and Francis the First; though I might observe, that neither Ariosto, nor any of his Con∣temporary Poets ever arriv'd at the Excellency of Raphael, Titian, and the rest in Painting. But in re∣venge at this time, or lately in many Countries, Po∣etry is better practis'd than her Sister-Art. To what height the Magnificence and Encouragement of the present King of France may carry Painting and Scul∣pture is uncertain, but by what he has done, before the War in which he is ingag'd, we may expect what he will do after the happy Conclusion of a Peace, which is the Prayer and Wish of all those who have not an interest to prolong the miseries of Europe. For'tis most certain, as our Author amongst others has observ'd, That Reward is the Spur of Vertue, as well in all good Arts, as in all laudable Attempts: and Emulation which is the Page xxxi other Spur, will never be wanting either amongst Poets or Painters, when particular Rewards and Prizes are propos'd to the best deservers. But to return from this digression, though it was almost necessary; all the Rules of Painting are methodi∣cally, concisely, and yet clearly deliver'd in this present Treatise which I have translated. Bossu has not given more exact Rules for the Epique Po∣em, nor Dacier for Tragedy in his late excellent Translation of Aristotle and his notes upon him, than our Fresnoy has made for Painting; with the Parallel of which I must resume my Discourse, following my Author's Text, though with more brevity than I intended, because Virgil calls me. The principal and most important parts of Painting, is to know what is most beautifull in Nature, and most proper for that Art: that which is the most beauti∣full is the most noble Subject: so in Poetry, Tra∣gedy is more beautifull than Comedy; because, as I said, the Persons are greater whom the Poet in∣structs, and consequently the instructions of more benefit to Mankind: the action is likewise great∣er and more noble, and thence is deriv'd the great∣er and more noble Pleasure.
To imitate Nature well in whatsoever Subject, is the perfection of both Arts; and that Picture and that Poem which comes nearest to the resem∣blance Page xxxij of Nature is the best. But it follows not, that what pleases most in either kind is therefore good; but what ought to please. Our deprav'd Appetites, and ignorance of the Arts, mislead our Judgments, and cause us often to take that for true imitation of Nature, which has no resem∣blance of Nature in it. To inform our Judgments, and to reform our Tasts, Rules were invented, that by them we might discern when Nature was imitated, and how nearly. I have been forc'd to recapitulate these things, because Mankind is not more liable to deceit, than it is willing to con∣tinue in a pleasing error strengthen'd by a long habitude. The imitation of nature is therefore justly constituted as the general, and indeed the onely Rule of pleasing both in Poetry and Paint∣ing. Aristotle tells us, that imitation pleases, be∣cause it affords matter for a Reasoner to enquire into the truth or falshood of Imitation, by com∣paring its likeness or unlikeness with the Original. But by this Rule, every Speculation in Nature, whose truth falls under the enquiry of a Philoso∣pher, must produce the same delight which is not true; I should rather assign another reason. Truth is the Object of our Understanding as Good is of our Will: And the Understanding can no more be delighted with a Lye, than the Will can Page xxxiij choose an apparent Evil. As Truth is the end of all our Speculations, so the discovery of it is the pleasure of them. And since a true know∣ledge of Nature gives us pleasure, a lively imita∣tion of it, either in Poetry or Painting, must of necessity produce a much greater. For both these Arts as I said before, are not onely true imitati∣ons of Nature, but of the best Nature, of that which is wrought up to a nobler pitch. They pre∣sent us with Images more perfect than the Life in any individual: and we have the pleasure to see all the scatter'd Beauties of Nature united by a happy Chymistry, without its deformities or faults. They are imitations of the passions which always move, and therefore consequently please: for without motion there can be no delight; which cannot be consider'd, but as an active passion. When we view these Elevated Idea's of Nature, the result of that view is Admiration, which is always the cause of Pleasure.
This foregoing Remark, which gives the rea∣son why imitation pleases; was sent me by Mr. Walter Moyle, a most ingenious young Gentleman, conversant in all the Studies of Humanity, much above his years. He had also furnish'd me (ac∣cording to my request) with all the particular passages in Aristotle and Horace, which are us'd Page xxxiv by them to explain the Art of Poetry by that of Painting: which if ever I have time to retouch this Essay, shall be inserted in their places. Having thus shewn that Imitation pleases, and why it pleases in both these Arts, it follows that some Rules of Imitation are necessary to obtain the end: for without Rules there can be no Art; any more than there can be a House without a Door to conduct you into it. The principal parts of Painting and Poetry next follow.
Invention is the first part, and absolutely neces∣sary to them both: yet no Rule ever was or ever can be given how to compass it. A happy Ge∣nius is the gift of Nature: it depends on the in∣fluence of the Stars say the Astrologers, on the Or∣gans of the Body say the Naturalists; 'tis the par∣ticular gift of Heaven say the Divines, both Chri∣stians and Heathens. How to improve it many Books can teach us; how to obtain in none; that nothing can be done without it all agree.
Under this head of Invention is plac'd the Dispo∣sition of the Work, to put all things in a beautifull order and harmony; that the whole may be of a piece. The Compositions of the Painter shou'd be conformable to the Text of Ancient Authours, to the Customs, and the Times. And this is exact∣ly the same in Poetry; Homer, and Virgil, are to be our guides in the Epique; Sophocles, and Eu∣ripides, in Tragedy: in all things we are to imi∣tate the Customs, and the Times of those Persons and Things which we represent. Not to make new Rules of the Drama, as Lopez de Vega has attempted unsuccessfully to do; but to be con∣tent to follow our Masters, who understood Na∣ture better than we. But if the Story which we treat be modern, we are to vary the Customs, according to the Time and the Country where the Scene of Action lies: for this is still to imitate Page xxxvi Nature, which is always the same, though in a different dress.
As in the Composition of a Picture, the Pain∣ter is to take care that nothing enter into it, which is not proper, or convenient to the Subject; so likewise is the Poet to reject all incidents which are foreign to his Poem, and are naturally no parts of it: they are Wenns, and other Excrescences, which belong not to the Body, but deform it. no person, no incident in the Piece, or in the Play, but must be of use to carry on the main Design. All things else are like six fingers to the hand; when Nature which is superfluous in no∣thing, can do her work with five. A Painter must reject all trifling Ornaments, so must a Poet re∣fuse all tedious, and unnecessary Descriptions. A Robe which is too heavy, is less an Ornament than a Burthen.
In Poetry Horace calls these things, Versus ino∣pes rerum, nugaeque canorae; these are also the lucus & ara Dianae, which he mentions in the same Art of Poetry. But since there must be Or∣naments both in Painting and Poetry, if they are not necessary, they must at least be decent: that is, in their due place, and but moderately us'd. The Painter is not to take so much pains about the Drapery as about the Face, where the princi∣pal Page xxxvij resemblance lies: neither is the Poet who is working up a passion, to make similes which will certainly make it languish. My Montezuma dies with a fine one in his mouth: but it is ambitious and out of season. When there are more Figures in a Picture than are necessary, or at least orna∣mental, our Authour calls them Figures to be lett: because the Picture has no use of them. So I have seen in some modern Plays above twenty Actours; when the Action has not requir'd half the num∣ber. In the principal Figures of a Picture, the Painter is to employ the sinews of his Art, for in them consists the principal beauty of his Work. Our Authour saves me the comparison with Tragedy, for he says that herein he is to imitate the Tragique Poet, who employs his utmost force in those pla∣ces wherein consists the height and beauty of the Action. Du Fresnoy, whom I follow, makes De∣sign or Drawing the second part of Painting: But the Rules which he gives concerning the Posture of the Figures, are almost wholly proper to that Art; and admit not any comparison that I know with Poetry. The Posture of a Poetique Figure is as I conceive, the Description of his Heroes in the per∣formance of such or such an Action: as of Achilles just in the act of killing Hector: or of Aeneas who has Turnus under him. Both the Poet and the Page xxxviij Painter vary the Postures according to the Action, or Passion which they represent of the same per∣son. But all must be great and gracefull in them. The same Aeneas must be drawn a Suppliant to Dido with respect in his Gestures, and humility in his Eyes: But when he is forc'd in his own de∣fence to kill Lausus, the Poet shows him compas∣sionate, and tempering the severity of his looks with a reluctance to the Action, which he is go∣ing to perform. He has pity on his Beauty, and his Youth; and is loath to destroy such a Master∣piece of Nature. He considers Lausus rescuing his Father at the hazard of his own life; as an Image of himself when he took Anchises on his Shoulders, and bore him safe through the rage of the Fire, and the opposition of his Enemies. And therefore in the posture of a retiring Man, who avoids the Combat, he stretches out his Arm in sign of peace, with his right Foot drawn a little back, and his Breast bending inward, more like an Oratour than a Souldier; and seems to disswade the Young man from pulling on his destiny, by attempting more than he was able to perform: take the passage as I have thus translated it.
Let every Member be made for its own Head, says our Authour, not a wither'd Hand to a young Face. So in the Persons of a Play, whatsoever is said or done by any of them, must be consistent with the manners which the Poet has given them distinctly: and even the Habits must be proper to the degrees, and humours of the Persons as well as in a Picture. He who enter'd in the first Act, a Young man like Pericles Prince of Tyre, must not be in danger in the fifth Act, of com∣mitting Incest with his Daughter: nor an Usurer, without great probability and causes of Repen∣tance, be turn'd into a Cutting Moorcraft.
I am not satisfy'd that the comparison betwixt the two Arts in the last Paragraph is altogether so just as it might have been; but I am sure of this which follows.
Page xliThe principal Figure of the Subject must appear in the midst of the Picture, under the principal Light to distinguish it from the rest which are onely its atten∣dants. Thus in a Tragedy or an Epique Poem, the Hero of the Piece must be advanc'd foremost to the view of the Reader or Spectator; He must out-shine the rest of all the Characters; He must appear the Prince of them, like the Sun in the Co∣pernican System, encompass'd with the less noble Planets. Because the Hero is the Centre of the main Action; all the Lines from the Circumfe∣rence tend to him alone: He is the chief object of Pity in the Drama, and of Admiration in the E∣pique Poem.
As in a Picture, besides the principal Figures which compose it, and are plac'd in the midst of it, there are less Grouppes or Knots of Figures dispos'd at proper distances, which are parts of the Piece, and seem to carry on the same Design in a more inferiour manner. So in Epique Poe∣try, there are Episodes, and a Chorus in Tragedy, which are Members of the Action, as growing out of it, not inserted into it. Such in the ninth Book of the Eneids is the Episode of Nisus and Eu∣ryalus: the adventure belongs to them alone; they alone are the Objects of Compassion and Admi∣ration; but their business which they carry on, Page xlij is the general Concernment of the Trojan Camp, then beleaguer'd by Turnus and the Latines, as the Christians were lately by the Turks. They were to advertise the chief Hero of the Distresses of his Subjects occasion'd by his Absence, to crave his Succour, and sollicite him to hasten his Re∣turn.
The Grecian Tragedy was at first nothing but a Chorus of Singers, afterwards one Actor was in∣troduc'd, which was the Poet himself, who enter∣tain'd the people with a discourse in Verse, betwixt the Pauses of the Singing. This succeeding with the People, more Actors were added to make the variety the greater; and in process of time, the Chorus onely sung betwixt the Acts; and the Co∣riphaeus, or Chief of them spoke for the rest, as an Actor concern'd in the business of the Play.
Thus Tragedy was perfected by degrees, and be∣ing arriv'd at that Perfection, the Painters might probably take the hint from thence, of adding Grouppes to their Pictures. But as a good Pi∣cture may be without a Grouppe; so a good Tra∣gedy may subsist without a Chorus: notwithstand∣ing any reasons which have been given by Dacier to the contrary.
Monsieur Racine has indeed us'd it in his Esther, but not that he found any necessity of it, as Page xliij the French Critique would insinuate. The Chorus at St. Cyr, was onely to give the young Ladies an occasion of entertaining the King with vocal Mu∣sick, and of commending their own Voices. The Play it self was never intended for the publick Stage, nor without disparagement to the learned Author, could possibly have succeeded there, and much less the Translation of it here. Mr. Wi∣cherly, when we read it together was of my opini∣on in this, or rather I of his; for it becomes me so to speak of so excellent a Poet, and so great a Iudge. But since I am in this place, as Virgil says, Spatiis exclusus iniquis; that is, shorten'd in my time, I will give no other reason, than that it is impracticable on our Stage. A new Theatre much more ample and much deeper must be made for that purpose, besides the cost of some∣times forty or fifty Habits, which is an expence too large, to be supply'd by a Company of Actors. 'Tis true, I should not be sorry to see a Chorus on a Theatre, more than as large and as deep a∣gain as ours, built and adorn'd at a King's Charges, and on that condition, and another, which is, That my Hands were not bound be∣hind me, as now they are; I should not despair of making such a Tragedy, as might be both in∣structive and delightfull, according to the man∣ner of the Grecians.
Page xlivTo make a Sketch, or a more perfect Model of a Picture, is in the Language of Poets, to draw up the Scenary of a Play, and the reason is the same for both; to guide the Undertaking, and to preserve the Remembrance of such things, whose Natures are difficult to retain.
To avoid Absurdities and Incongruities, is the same Law establish'd for both Arts. The Painter is not to paint a Cloud at the Bottom of a Picture, but in the uppermost parts: nor the Poet to place what is proper to the end or middle in the begin∣ning of a Poem. I might enlarge on this, but there are few Poets or Painters, who can be sup∣pos'd to sin so grosly against the Laws of Nature, and of Art. I remember onely one Play, and for once I will call it by its name, The Slighted Maid: where there is nothing in the First Act, but what might have been said or done in the Fifth; nor any thing in the Midst, which might not have been plac'd as well in the Beginning or the End. To express the Passions which are seated in the Heart by outward Signs, is one great Precept of the Painters, and very difficult to perform. In Poe∣try, the same Passions and Motions of the Mind are to be express'd; and in this consists the prin∣cipal Difficulty, as well as the Excellency of that Art. This, says my Author, is the Gift of Iupi∣ter: Page xlv and to speak in the same Heathen Language, we call it the Gift of our Apollo: not to be obtain'd by Pains or Study, if we are not born to it. For the Motions which are studied are never so natu∣ral, as those which break out in the height of a re∣al Passion. Mr. Otway possess'd this part as tho∣roughly as any of the Ancients or Moderns. I will not defend every thing in his Venice preserv'd; but I must bear this testimony to his Memory, That the Passions are truly touch'd in it, though perhaps there is somewhat to be desir'd both in the Grounds of them, and in the Height and Elegance of Expressi∣on; but Nature is there which is the greatest Beauty.
In the Passions, says our Author, we must have a very great regard to the quality of the Persons who are actually possess'd with them. The Joy of a Mo∣narch for the news of a Victory, must not be ex∣press'd like the Ecstasy of a Harlequin on the Re∣ceipt of a Letter from his Mistress; this is so much the same in both the Arts, that it is no longer a Comparison. What he says of Face-painting, or the Protrait of any one particular Person; con∣cerning the likeness is also as applicable to Poetry. In the character of an Hero, as well as in an inferi∣our Figure, there is a better or worse likeness to be taken; the better is a Panegyrick if it be not false, and the worse is a Libel: Sophocles. says A∣ristotle Page xlvi always drew men as they ought to be, that is better than they were; another, whose name I have forgotten, drew them worse than naturally they were. Euripides alter'd nothing in the Cha∣racter, but made them such as they were repre∣sented by History, Epique Poetry or Tradition. Of the three, the draught of Sophocles is most com∣mended by Aristotle. I have follow'd it in that part of Oedipus, which I writ, though perhaps I have made him too good a man. But my Cha∣racters of Anthony and Cleopatra, though they are favourable to them, have nothing of outrageous Panegyrick, their Passions were their own, and such as were given them by History, onely the de∣formities of them were cast into Shadows, that they might be Objects of Compassion; whereas if I had chosen a Noon-day Light for them, somewhat must have been discover'd, which would rather have mov'd our Hatred than our Pity.
The Gothique manner, and the barbarous Orna∣ments, which are to be avoided in a Picture, are just the same with those in an ill order'd Play. For example, our English Tragicomedy must be confess'd to be wholly Gothique, notwithstanding the Success which it has found upon our Theatre, and in the Pastor Fido of Guarini; even though Corisca and the Satyr contribute somewhat to the main Action. Page xlvij Neither can I defend my Spanish Fryar, as fond as otherwise I am of it from this Imputation: for though the comical parts are diverting, and the se∣rious moving, yet they are of an unnatural min∣gle. For Mirch and Gravity destroy each other, and are no more to be allow'd for decent, than a gay Widow laughing in a mourning Habit.
I had almost forgotten one considerable resem∣blance. Du Fresnoy tells us, That the Figures of the Grouppes, must not be all on a side, that is, with their Face and Bodies all turn'd the same way; but must contrast each other by their several positions. Thus in a Play, some characters must be rais'd to op∣pose other; and to set them off the better, ac∣cording to the old Maxim, Contraria juxta se po∣sita, magis elucescunt. Thus in the Scornfull Lady, the Usurer is set to confront the Prodigal. Thus in my Tyrannicque Love, the Atheist Maximin is op∣pos'd to the character of St. Catharine.
I am now come, though with the omission of many Likenesses, to the third Part of Painting, which is call'd the Cromatique or Colouring. Ex∣pression, and all that belongs to words, is that in a Poem, which Colouring is in a Picture. The Colours well chosen in their proper places, toge∣ther with the Lights and Shadows which belong to them, lighten the Design, and make it pleasing Page xlviij to the Eye. The Words, the Expressions, the Tropes and Figures, the Versification, and all the other Elegancies of Sound, as Cadences, Turns of Words upon the Thought, and many other things which are all parts of expression, perform exactly the same Office both in Dra∣matique and Epique Poetry. Our Author calls Co∣louring, Lena Sororis, in plain English, The Bawd of her Sister the Design or Drawing: she cloaths, she dresses her up, she paints her, she makes her appear more lovely than naturally she is, she pro∣cures for the Design, and makes Lovers for her. For the Design of it self, is onely so many naked lines. Thus in Poetry, the Expression is that which charms the Reader, and beautifies the De∣sign which is onely the Out-lines of the Fables. 'Tis true, the Design must of it self be good; if it be vicious or (in one word) unpleasing, the cost of Colouring is thrown away upon it. 'Tis an ugly woman in a rich Habit set out with Jew∣els, nothing can become her: but granting the Design to be moderately good, 'tis like an ex∣cellent Complexion with indifferent Features; the white and red well mingled on the Face, make what was before but passable, appear beautifull. Operum Colores is the very word which Horace uses, to signify Words and elegant Expressions, of which Page xlix he himself was so great a Master in his Odes. A∣mongst the Ancients, Zeuxis was most famous for his Colouring. Amongst the Moderns, Titian and Correggio. Of the two Ancient Epique Poets, who have so far excell'd all the Moderns, the In∣vention and Design were the particular Talents of Homer. Virgil must yield to him in both, for the Design of the Latine was borrowed from the Grecian: But the dictio Virgiliana, the expression of Virgil; his Colouring was incomparably the bet∣ter, and in that I have always endeavour'd to copy him. Most of the Pedants I know main∣tain the contrary, and will have Homer excell e∣ven in this part. But of all people, as they are the most ill manner'd, so they are the worst Judges; even of words which are their Province, they seldom know more than the Grammatical construction, unless they are born with a Poetical Genius; which is a rare Portion amongst them. Yet some I know may stand excepted; and such I honour. Virgil is so exact in every word, that none can be chang'd but for a worse: nor any one remov'd from its place, but the harmony will be alter'd. He pretends sometimes to trip; but 'tis onely to make you think him in danger of a fall, when he is most secure. Like a skilfull dancer on the Ropes (if you will pardon the Page l meanness of the similitude) who slips willingly and makes a seeming stumble, that you may think him in great hazard of breaking his neck; while at the same time he is onely giving you a proof of his dexterity. My late Lord Roscomon was often pleas'd with this reflection, and with the examples of it in this admirable Author.
I have not leisure to run through the whole Comparison of Lights and Shadows with Tropes and Figures; yet I cannot but take notice of Metaphors, which like them have power to lessen or greaten any thing. Strong and glowing Colours are the just resemblances of bold Metaphors, but both must be judiciously apply'd; for there is a difference be∣twixt daring and fool-hardiness. Lucan and Sta∣tius often ventur'd them too far, our Virgil never. But the great defect of the Pharsalia and the The∣bais was in the Design; if that had been more per∣fect, we might have forgiven many of their bold strokes in the Colouring; or at least excus'd them: yet some of them are such as Demosthenes or Cice∣ro could not have defended. Virgil, if he could have seen the first Verses of the Sylvae, would have thought Statius mad in his sustian Description of the Statue on the brazen Horse. But that Poet was al∣ways in a Foam at his setting out, even before the Motion of the Race had warm'd him. The so∣berness Page li of Virgil, whom he read it seems to little purpose, might have shown him the difference be∣twixt, Arma virum{que} cano, and Magnanimum AEa∣cidem, formidatam{que} tonanti Progeniem. But Virgil knew how to rise by degrees in his expressions: Statius was in his towring heights at the first stretch of his Pinions. The description of his running Horse just starting in the Funeral Games for Ar∣chemorus, though the Verses are wonderfully fine, are the true Image of their Author.
We have the Proverb, manum de tabulâ, from the Painters; which signifies, to know when to give over, and to lay by the Pencil. Both Ho∣mer and Virgil practis'd this Precept wonderfully well, but Virgil the better of the two. Homer knew that when Hector was slain, Troy was as good as already taken; therefore he concludes his Action there. For what follows in the Funerals Page liv of Patroclus, and the redemption of Hector's Bo∣dy, is not (properly speaking) a part of the main Action. But Virgil concludes with the death of Turnus: sor after that difficulty was remov'd, Ae∣neas might marry and establish the Trojans when he pleas'd. This Rule I had before my Eyes in the conclusion of the Spanish Fryar, when the discove∣ry was made, that the King was living, which was the knot of the Play unty'd, the rest is shut up in the compass of some few lines, because no∣thing then hinder'd the Happiness of Torismond and Leonora. The faults of that Drama are in the kind of it, which is Tragi comedy. But it was given to the people; and I never writ any thing for my self but Anthony and Cleopatra.
This Remark I must acknowledge is not so pro∣per for the Colouring as the Design; but it will hold for both. As the words, &c. are evidently shown to be the cloathing of the Thought, in the same sense as Colours are the cloathing of the Design, so the Painter and the Poet ought to judge ex∣actly, when the Colouring and Expressions are perfect, and then to think their work is truly finish'd. Apelles said of Protogenes, That he knew not when to give over. A work may be over∣wrought as well as under-wrought: too much Labour often takes away the Spirit by adding to Page lv the polishing; so that there remains nothing but a dull correctness, a piece without any considerable Faults, but with few Beauties; for when the Spi∣rits are drawn off, there is nothing but a caput mor∣tuum. Statius never thought an expression could be bold enough; and if a bolder could be found he rejected the first. Virgil had Judgment enough to know daring was necessary; but he knew the difference betwixt a glowing Colour and a glaring: as when he compar'd the shocking of the Fleets at Actium to the justling of Islands rent from their Foundations, and meeting in the Ocean. He knew the comparison was forc'd beyond Nature and rais'd too high: he therefore softens the Metaphor with a Credas. You would almost believe, that Mountains or Islands rush'd against each other.
But here I must break off without finishing the Discourse.
Cynthius aurem vellit & admonuit, &c. the things which are behind are of too nice a consideration for an Essay, begun and ended in twelve Morn∣ings, and perhaps the Iudges of Painting and Poe∣try, when I tell them, how short a time it cost Page lvi me, may make me the same answer, which my late Lord Rochester made to one, who to com∣mend a Tragedy, said it was written in three weeks; How the Devil could he be so long about it? For that Poem was infamously bad; and I doubt this Parallel is little better; and then the shortness of the time is so far from being a Commendation, that it is scarcely an Excuse. But if I have really drawn a Portrait to the Knees, or an half length with a tolerable Likeness, then I may plead with some Justice for my self, that the rest is left to the Imagination. Let some better Artist pro∣vide himself of a deeper Canvas, and taking these hints which I have given, set the Figure on its Legs, and finish it in the Invention, Design and Colouring.
