him from his high station in this our Dunciad; | neighbour's. Truly a commendable continence ! namely, "whether it would not be vanity in him, to take shame to himself for not being a wise man1?" Bravery, the second attribute of the true hero, is courage manifesting itself in every limb; while its correspondent virtue, in the mock hero, is that same courage all collected into the face. And as power, when drawn together, must needs have more force and spirit than when dispersed, we generally find this kind of courage in so high and heroic a degree, that it insults not only men, but gods. Mezentius is, without doubt, the bravest character in all the Eneis: but how? His bravery, we know, was an high courage of blasphemy. And can we say less of this brave man's, who having told us that he placed his "6 summum bonum in those follies, which he was not content barely to possess, but would likewise glory in," adds, "If I am misguided, 'tis nature's fault, and I follow her." Nor can we be mistaken in making this happy quality a species of courage, when we consider those illustrious marks of it, which made his face "more known (as he justly boasteth) than most in the kingdom ;" and his language to consist of what we must allow to be the most daring figure of speech, that which is taken from the name of God. Gentle love, the next ingredient in the true hero's composition, is a mere bird of passage, or (as Shakespeare calls it) summer-teeming lust, and evaporates in the heat of youth; doubtless by that refinement it suffers in passing through those certain strainers which our poet somewhere speaketh of. But when it is let alone to work upon the lees, it acquireth strength by old age; and becometh a lasting ornament to the little epic. It is true, indeed, there is one objection to its fitness for such an use for not only the ignorant may think it common, but it is admitted to be so, even by him who best knoweth its value. "Don't you think" (argueth he)" to say only a man has his whore, ought to go for little or nothing? Because defendit numerus ; take the first ten thousand men you meet, and, I believe, you would be no loser if you betted ten to one, that every single sinner of them, one with another, had been guilty of the same frailty." But here he seemeth not to have done justice to himself: the man is sure enough a hero, who hath his lady at fourscore. How doth his modesty herein lessen the merit of a whole well-spent life: not taking to himself the commendation (which Horace accounted the greatest in a theatrical character) of continuing to the very dregs the same he was from the beginning, -Servetur ad imum and such as Scipio himself must have applauded. For how much self-denial was necessary not to covet his neighbour's whore? and what disorders must the coveting her have occasioned in that society, where (according to this political calculator) nine in ten of all ages have their concubines! We have now, as briefly as we could advise, gone through the three constituent qualities of either hero. But it is not in any, or in all of these that heroism properly or essentially resideth. It is a lucky result rather from the collision of these lively qualities against one another. Thus, as from wisdom, bravery, and love, ariseth magnanimity, the object of admiration, which is the aim of the greater epic, so from vanity, assurance, and debauchery, springeth buffoonry, the source of ridicule, that laughing ornament," as he well termeth it', of the little epic. He is not ashamed (God forbid he ever should be ashamed!) of this character; who deemeth, that not reason but risibility distinguisheth the human species from the brutal. "As Nature" (saith this profound philosopher) "distinguished our species from the mute creation by our risibility, her design must have been by that faculty as evidently to raise our happiness, as by our os sublime (our erected faces) to lift the dignity of our form above them." All this considered, how complete a hero must he be, as well as how happy a man, whose risibility lieth, not barely in his muscles, as in the common sort, but (as himself informeth us) in his very spirits? and whose os sublime is not simply an erect face, but a brazen head; as should seem by his preferring it to one of iron, said to belong to the late king of Sweden ? But whatever personal qualities a hero may have, the examples of Achilles and Æneas show us, that all those are of small avail, without the constant assistance of the gods: for the subversion and erection of empires have never been adjudged the work of man. How greatly soever then we may esteem of his high talents, we can hardly conceive his personal prowess alone sufficient to restore the decayed empire of Dul ness. So weighty an achievement must require the particular favour and protection of the great; who being the natural patrons and supporters of letters, as the ancient gods were of Troy, must first be drawn off and engaged in another interest, before the total subversion of them can be accomplished. To surmount, therefore, this last and greatest difficulty, we have, in this excellent man, a professed favourite and intimado of the great. And look, of what force ancient piety was to draw the gods into the party of Æneas, that, and much stronger, is modern incense, to engage the great in the party of Dulness. Thus have we essayed to pourtray or shadow out this noble imp of fame, But now the impatient reader will be apt to say, “If so many and various graces go to the making up a hero, what mortal shall suffice to bear his character?" Ill hath he read, who seeth not, in every trace of this picture, that individual, all-accomplished person, in whom these rare virtues and lucky circumstances have agreed to meet and concenter with the strongest lustre and fullest harmony. The good Scriblerus indeed, nay the world itself, might be imposed on, in the late spurious editions, by I can't tell what sham hero or phantom: but it was not so easy to impose on him whom this egregious errour most of all concerned. For no sooner had the fourth book laid open the high and swelling scene, but he recognized his own heroic acts: and when he came to the words, that nothing can exceed our hero's prowess; as nothing ever equalled the greatness of his conceptions. Hear how he constantly paragons himself; at one time to Alexander the Great and Charles the XII. of Sweden for the excess and delicacy of his ambition'; to Henry the IV. of France, for honest policy 2; to the first Brutus, for love of liberty'; and to Sir Robert Walpole, for good government while in power: at another time, to the godlike Socrates for his diversions and amusements': to Horace, Montaigne, and sir William Temple, for an elegant vanity that maketh them for ever read and admired: to two Lord Chancellors, for law, from whom, when confederate against him at the bar, he carried in a word, to the right reverend the lord bishop away the prize of eloquence'; and, to say all of London himself, in the art of writing pastoral letters 8. Nor did his actions fall short of the sublimity Revolution face to face in Nottingham; at a of his conceit. In his early youth he met the following her. It was here he got acquainted with time when his betters contented themselves with Old Battle-array, of whom he hath made so honourable mention in one of his immortal odes. But he shone in courts as well as in camps: he this Revolution10; and was called up when the nation fell in labour of christening, with the bishop and the ladies". was a gossip at her Soft on her lap her laureat son reclines, (though laureat imply no more than one crowned with laurel, as befitteth any associate or consort in empire), he loudly resented this indignity to violated Majesty. Indeed, not without cause, he being there represented as fast asleep; so misbeseeming the eye of empire, which, like that of Providence, should never doze nor slumber. "Hah!" (saith he)" fast asleep, it seems! that's a little too strong. Pert and dull at least you might have allowed me, but as seldom asleep as any fool'." However, the injured Hero may comfort himself with this reflection, that though it be a sleep, yet it is not the sleep of death, but of immortality. Here he will live at least, though not awake; and in no worse condition than many an enchanted warriour before him. The famous relation either to heathen god or goddess; but, As to his birth, it is true he pretendeth no Durandante, for instance, was, like him, cast into a long slumber by Merlin, the British bard of both12 what is as good, he was descended from a maker and necromancer; and his example for sub-the world for a hero, as well by birth as educaAnd that he did not pass himself on mitting to it with a good grace, might be of use to our hero. For that disastrous knight being into his life as an anecdote, and is sensible he tion, was his own fault: for his lineage he bringeth sorely pressed or driven to make his answer by had it in his power to be thought nobody's son several persons of quality, only replied with a sigh, patience, and shuffle the cards 3. at all13: and what is that but coming into the world a hero? But now, as nothing in this world, no not the most sacred and perfect things, either of religion or government, can escape the sting of envy, methinks I already hear these carpers objecting to the clearness of our hero's title. "It would never" (say they)“have been esteemed sufficient to make an hero for the Iliad or Æneis, that Achilles was brave enough to overturn one empire, or Æneas pious enough to raise another, had they not been goddess-born, and Princes bred. What then did this author mean, by erecting a player instead of one of his patrons (a person, never a hero even on the stage), to this dignity of colleague in the empire of dulness, and achiever of a work that neither old Omar, Attila, nor John of Leyden, could entirely bring to pass.' " To all this we have, as we conceive, a sufficient answer from the Roman historian, fabrum esse suæ quemque fortunæ: that every man is the smith of his own fortune. The politic Florentine, Nicholas Machiavel, goeth still further, and affirmeth that a man needeth but to believe himself a hero to be one of the worthiest. "Let him" (saith he) "but fancy himself capable of the highest things, and he will of course be able to achieve them." From this principle it follows, But be it (the punctilious laws of epic poesy mortal birth must needs be had even for this SO requiring) that a hero of more than we have a remedy. We can easily derive our and authority amongst men; and legitimate and hero's pedigree from a goddess of no small power instal him after the right classical and authentic fashion: for, like as the ancient sages found a in a skilful seaman; a son of Phoebus in a son of Mars in a mighty warrior; a son of Neptune harmonious poet; so have we here, if need be, a son of Fortune in an artful gamester. And who fitter than the offspring of Chance, to assist in restoring the empire of Night and Chaos? There is in truth another objection of greater and hath not yet finished his earthly course. weight, namely, "That this hero still existeth, if Solon said well, ultima semper For Expectanda dies homini: dicique beatus Ante obitum nemo supremaque funera debet! if no man can be called happy till his death, surely much less can any one, till then, be pro nounced a hero: this species of men being far more subject than others to the caprices of fortune and humour." But to this also we have an answer, that will (we hope) be deemed decisive. It cometh from himself; who, to cut this matter short, hath solemnly protested that he will never change or amend. With regard to his vanity, he declareth that THE DUNCIAD. TO DR. JONATHAN SWIFT. ARGUMENT. nothing shall ever part them. "Nature" (said THE proposition, the invocation, and the inscriphe) "hath amply supplied me in vanity; a pleasure which neither the pertness of wit, nor the gravity of wisdom, will ever persuade me to part with"." Our poet had charitably endeavoured to administer a cure to it but he telleth us plainly, My superiors perhaps may be mended by him; but for my part I own myself incorrigible. I look upon my follies as the best part of my fortune"." And with good reason; we see to what they have brought him! Secondly, as to buffoonry, "Is it" (saith he) "a time of day for me to leave off these fooleries, and set up a new character? I can no more put off my follies than my skin; I have often tried, but they stick too close to me: nor am I sure my friends are displeased with them, for in this light I afford them frequent matter of mirth, &c. &c " Having then so publicly declared himself incorrigible, he is become dead in law (I mean the law Epopeian), and devolveth upon the poet as his property; who may take him, and deal with him as if he had been dead as long as an old Egyptian hero; that is to say, embowel and embalm him for posterity. Nothing therefore (we conceive) remaineth to hinder his own prophecy of himself from taking immediate effect. A rare felicity! and what few prophets have had the satisfaction to see, alive! Nor can we conclude better than with that extraordinary one of his, which is conceived in these oraculous words, "my dulness will find somebody to do it right." Tandem Phoebus adest, morsusque inferre parantem Congelat, et patulos, ut erant, induat hia tus". BY AUTHORITY, tion. Then the original of the great empire of Dulness, and cause of the continuance thereof. The college of the goddess in the city, with her private academy for poets in particular; the governors of it, and the four cardinal virtues. Then the poem hastes into the midst of things, presenting her, on the evening of a lord mayor's day, revolving the long succession of her sons, and the glories past and to come.. She fixes her eyes on Bays to be the instrument of that great event which is the subject of the poem. He is described pensive among his books, giving up the cause, and apprehending the period of her empire: After debating whether to betake himself to the church, or to gaming, or to party-writing, he raises an altar of proper books, and (making first his solemn prayer and declaration) purposes thereon to sacrifice all his unsuccessful writings. As the pile is kindled, the goddess, beholding the flame from her seat, flies and puts it out by casting upon it the poem of Thulé. She forthwith reveals herself to him, transports him to her temple, unfolds her arts, and initiates him into her mysteries; then anouncing the death of Eusden, the poet laureat, anoints him, carries him to court, and proclaims him successor. BOOK I. THE mighty mother, and her son, who brings, In the first editions Tibbald was the hero of the poem, which will account for most of the subsequent variations. VARIATION, Ver. 1. The mighty mother, &c.] In the first edit. it was thus, Books and the man I sing, the first who brings, REMARKS. By virtue of the authority in us vested by the act for subjecting poets to the power of a licenser, we have revised this piece; where finding the style and appellation of king to have been given to a certain pretender, pseudo-poet, or phantom, of the name of Tibbald; and apprehending the same may be deemed in some sort a reflection on majesty, or at least an insult on that legal authority which has bestowed on another person the The Dunciad, sic MS. It may well be discrown of poesy: We have ordered the said pre-puted whether this be a right reading: Ought it tender, pseudo-poet, or phantom, utterly to not rather to be spelled Dunceiad, as the etimo vanish and evaporate out of this work: And do logy evidently demands? Dunce with an e, theredeclare the said throne of poesy from henceforth fore Dunceiad with an e. That accurate and to be abdicated and vacant, unless duly and law- punctual man of letters, the restorer of Shakefully supplied by the laureate himself. And it is speare, constantly observes the preservation of hereby enacted, that no other person do presume this very letter e, in spelling the name of his OC. CH. beloved author, and not like his common careless editors, with the omission of one, nay sonr times of two ee's (as Shakspear), which is utterly unpardonable. "Not is the neglect of a single let ter so trivial as to some it may appear; the ab to fill the same. p. 424. 3 P. 17. 1 Life, This is surely a slip in the learned author of the It was expressly confessed in the preface to the foregoing note; there having been since produced first edition, that this poem was not published by And The very hero of the poem hath been mistaken to this hour; so that we are obliged to open our notes with a discovery who he really was. We learn from the former editor, that this piece was presented by the hands of sir Robert Walpole to his hero is the man king George II. Now the author directly tells us, by an accurate antiquary, an autograph of the author himself. It was printed originally in Shakespeare himself whereby it appears that he spelled his own name without the first e. a foreign country. And what foreign country? upon this authority it was, that those most criti-Why, one notorious for blunders; where finding cal curators of his monument in Westminster blanks only instead of proper names, these blun derers filled them up at their pleasure. Abbey erased the former wrong reading, and restored the new spelling on a new piece of old Ægyptian granite. Nor for this only do they deserve our thanks, but for exhibiting on the same monument the first specimen of an edition of an author in marble; where (as may be seen on comparing the tomb with the book) in the space of five lines, two words and a whole verse are changed, and it is to be hoped will there stand, and outlast whatever hath been hitherto done in paper; as for the future, our learned sister university (the other eye of England) is taking care to perpetuate a total new Shakespeare at the Clarendon press. BENTL. It is to be noted, that this great critic also has omitted one circumstance; which is, that the inscription with the name of Shakespeare was intended to be placed on the marble scroll to which he points with his hand; instead of which it is now placed behind his back, and that specimen of an edition is put on the scroll, which indeed Shakespeare hath great reason to point at. ANON. Though I have as just a value for the letter E, as any grammarian living, and the same affection for the name of this poem as any critic for that of his author, yet cannot it induce me to agree with those who would add yet another e to it, and call it the Dunceiade; which being a French and foreign termination, is no way proper to a word entirely English, and vernacular. One e therefore in this case is right, and two ee's wrong. Yet upon the whole I shall follow the manuscript, and print it without any e at all; moved thereto by authority (at all times, with critics, equal, if not superior to reason). In which method of proceeding, I can never enough praise my good friend, the exact Mr. Tho. Hearne; who, if any word occur, which to him and all mankind is evidently wrong, yet keeps he it in the text with due reverence, and only remarks in the margin. sic MS.- In like manner we shall not amend this errour in the title itself, but only note it obiter, to evince to the learned that it was not our fault, nor any effect of our ignorance or inattention. SCRIBL. This poem was written in the year 1726. In the next year an imperfect edition was published at Dublin, and reprinted at London in twelves; another at Dublin, and another at London in octavo: and three others in twelves the same year. But there was no perfect edition before that of London in quarto; which was attended with notes. We are willing to acquaint posterity, that this poem was presented to king George the who brings The Smithfield Muscs to the ear of kings. And it is notorious who was the person on whom this prince conferred the honour of the laurel. It appears as plainly from the apostrophe to the great in the third verse, that Tibbald could not be the person, who was never an author in fashion, or caressed by the great; whereas this single characteristic is sufficient to point out the true hero: who, above all other poets of his time, was the peculiar delight and chosen companion of the nobility of England; and wrote, as he himself tells us, certain of his works at the earnest desire of persons of quality. Lastly, the sixth verse affords full proof; this poet being the only one who was universally known to have had a son so exactly like him, in his poetical, theatrical, political, and moral capacities, that it could justly be said of him, Still Dunce the second reigns like Dunce the first. BENTL. Ver. 1. The mighty mother and her son, &c.] The reader ought here to be cautioned, that the mother, and not the son, is the principal agent of this poem; the latter of them is only chosen as her colleague (as was anciently the custom in Rome before some great expedition), the main action of the poem being by no means the coronation of the laureate, which is performed in the very first book, but the restoration of the empire of Dulness in Britain, which is not accomplished till the last. Ver. 2. The Smithfield Muses.] Smithfield is the place where Bartholomew-fair was kept, whose shows, machines, and dramatical entertainments, formerly agreeable only to the taste of the rabble, were, by the hero of this poem and others of equal genius, brought to the theatres of Coventgarden, Lincoln's-inn-fields, and the Hay-market, to be the reigning pleasures of the court and town. This happened in the reigns of K. Geo. I. and II. See Book iii. Ver. 4. By Dulness, Jove, and Fate:] i. e. by their judgments, their interests, and their inclinations. Dulness o'er all possess'd her ancient right, Still her old empire to restore she tries, Close to those walls where Folly holds her throne, Keen, hollow winds howl through the bleak recess, Hence bards, like Proteus long in vain ty'd down, Oh thou! whatever title please thine ear, Here pleas'd behold her mighty wings out-spread REMARKS. Ver. 15. Laborious, heavy, busy, bold, &c.] I wonder the learned Scriblerus has omitted to advertise the reader, at the opening of this poem, that Dulness here is not to be taken contractedly for mere stupidity, but in the enlarged sense of the word, for all slowness of apprehension, shortness of sight, or imperfect sense of things. It insludes (as we see by the poet's own words) labour, industry, and some degrees of activity and boldness; a ruling principle not inert, but turning topsy-turvy the understanding, and inducing an anarchy or confused state of mind. This remark ought to be carried along with the reader throughout the work; and without this caution he will be apt to mistake the importance of many of the characters, as well as of the design of the poet. Hence it is, that some have complained he chuses too mean a subject, and imagined he employs himself like Domitian, in killing flies; whereas those who have the true key will find he sports with nobler quarry, and embraces a larger compass; or (as one saith, on a like occasion) Will see his work, like Jacob's ladder rise, BENTL. Ver. 17. Still her old empire to restore] This restoration makes the completion of the poem. Vide Book iv. Ver. 22.-laugh and shake in Rabelais' easy chair,] The imagery is exquisite; and the equivoque in the last words, gives a peculiar elegance to the whole expression. The easy chair suits his age: Rabelais' easy chair marks his chracter; and he filled and possessed it as the right heir and successor of that original genius. VARIATION. Ver. 29-39. Close to those walls, &c.] In the former edit. thus: Where wave the tatter'd ensigns of Rag-fair, This, the great mother dearer held than all Var. Where wave the tatter'd ensigtis of Ragfair.] Rag-fair is a place near the Tower of London, where old cloaths and frippery are sold. Ver. 41. in the former edit. Hence hymning Tyburn's elegiac lay, REMARKS. Ver. 31. By his fam'd father's hand,] Mr. Caius-Gabriel Cibber, father of the poet-laureate. The two statues of the lunatics over the gates of Bedlam-hospital were done by him, and (as the son justly says of them) are no ill monuments of his fame as an artist. Ver. 34. Poverty and Poetry.] I cannot here omit a remark that will greatly endear our author to every one, who shall attentively observe that humanity and candour, which every where appears in him towards those unhappy objects of the ridicule of all mankind, the bad poets. He here imputes all scandalous rhymes, scurrilous weekly papers, base flatteries, wretched elegies, songs, and verses (even from those sung at court, to ballads in the street), not so much to malice or servility as to dulness; and not so much to dulVer. 23. Or praise the court, or magnify man- ness as to necessity. And thus, at the very comkind,] Ironicè, alluding to Gulliver's representa-mencement of his satire, makes an apology for tions of both. The next line relates to the papers of the Drapier against the currency of Wood's copper coin in Ireland, which, upon the great discontent of the people, his majesty was graciously pleased to recall. Ver. 26. Mourn not, my Swift! at ought our realm acquires.] Ironicè iterum. The politics of England and Ireland were at this time by some thought to be opposite, or interfering with each other. Dr. Swift of course was in the interest of the latter, our author of the former. all that are to be satyrized. Ver. 40. Curll's chaste press, and Lintot's rubric post :] Two booksellers, of whom see Book ii. The former was fined by the court of King's Bench for publishing obscene books; the latter usually adorned his shop with titles in red letters. Ver. 41. Hence hymning Tyburn's elegiac lines,] It is an ancient English custom for the malefactors to sing a psalm at their execution at Tyburn; and no less customary to print elegies on their deaths, at the same time, or before. |