but resulting from it. How men are disappointed in their most expensive undertakings, for want of this true foundation, without which nothing can please long, if at all; and the best examples and rules will be but perverted into something burdensome and ridiculous. A description of the false taste of magnificence; the first grand error of which is to imagine that greatness consists in the size and dimension, instead of the proportion and harmony of the whole, and the second, either in joining together parts incoherent, or too minutely resembling, or in the repetition of the same too frequently. A word or two of false taste in books, in music, in painting, even in preaching and prayer, and lastly in entertainments. Yet PROVIDENCE is justified in giving wealth to be squandered in this manner, since it is dispersed to the poor and laborious part of mankind (recurring to what is laid down in the first book, Ep. ii and in the epistle preceding this). What are the proper objects of magnificence, and a proper field for the expense of great men, and finally the great and public works which become a prince. "TIS strange, the miser should his cares employ For what has Virro painted, built, and planted? You show us, Rome was glorious, not profuse', And pompous buildings once were things of use. Yet shall (my lord) your just, your noble rules, Fill half the land with imitating fools; Who random drawings from your sheets shall take, 1A gentleman famous for a judicious collection of drawings. * Two eminent physicians: the one had an excellent library, the other the finest collection in Europe of natural curiosities; both men of great learning and humanity. 3 This man was a carpenter, employed by a first minister, who raised him to an architect, without any genius in the art; and after some wretched proofs of his insufficiency in public buildings, made him comptroller of the board of works. 4 The Earl of Burlington was then publishing the designs of Inigo Jones, and the antiquities of Rome by Palladio. Something there is more needful than expense, To build, to plant, whatever you intend, Consult the genius of the place in all ; Still follow sense, of every art the soul, Parts answering parts shall slide into a whole, Spontaneous beauties all around advance, Start even from difficulty, strike from chance ; Nature shall join you; Time shall make it grow A work to wonder at-perhaps a STOW3. Without it, proud Versailles! thy glory falls ; And Nero's terraces desert their walls: The vast parterres a thousand hands shall make, [light; Behold Villario's ten-years' toil complete ; His quincunx darkens, his espaliers meet; The wood supports the plain, the parts unite, And strength of shade contends with strength of A waving glow the bloomy beds display, Blushing in bright diversities of day, With silver-quivering rills meander'd o'erEnjoy them, you! Villario can no more; Tired of the scene parterres and fountains yield, He finds, at last, he better likes a field. Through his young woods how pleased Sabinus Or sat delighted in the thickening shade, [stray'd, With annual joy the reddening shoots to greet, Or see the stretching branches long to meet ! His son's fine taste an opening vista loves, Foe to the dryads of his father's groves; One boundless green, or flourish'd carpet views, With all the mournful family of yews"; 5 The seat and gardens of the Lord Viscount Cobham, in Buckinghamshire. 6 This was done in Hertfordshire by a wealthy citizen, at the expense of above five thousand pounds, by which means (merely to overlook a dead plain) he let in the north wind upon his house and parterre, which were before adorned and defended by beautiful woods. 7 Dr. S. Clarke's busto, placed by the queen in the hermitage, while the doctor duly frequented the court. 8 The two extremes in parterres, which are equally faulty; a boundless green, large and naked as a field, or a flourished carpet, where the greatness and nobleness of the piece is lessened by being divided into too many parts, with scrolled works and beds, of which the examples are frequent. Touches upon the ill taste of those who are so fond of The thriving plants, ignoble broomsticks made, No artful wildness to perplex the scene; My Lord advances with majestic mien, Just at his study-door he'll bless your eyes. His study with what authors is it stored1? In books, not authors, curious is my lord; To all their dated backs he turns you round; These Aldus printed, those Du Suëil has bound! Lo, some are vellum, and the rest as good For all his lordship knows, but they are wood. For Locke or Milton 'tis in vain to look, These shelves admit not any modern book. And now the chapel's silver bell you hear, That summons you to all the pride of pray'r": Light quirks of music, broken and uneven, Make the soul dance upon a jig to Heaven. evergreens (particularly yews, which are the most tonsile,) as to destroy the nobler forest-trees to make way for such little ornaments as pyramids of dark green continually repeated, not unlike a funeral procession. 1 This description is intended to comprise the principles of a false taste of magnificence, and to exemplify what was said before, that nothing but good sense can attain it. 2 The two statues of the gladiator pugnans, and gladiater moriens. 3 The approaches and communication of house with garden, or one part with another, ill-judged, and inconvenient. 4 The false taste in books; a satire on the vanity in collecting them, more frequent in men of fortune, than the study to understand them. Many delight chiefly in the elegance of the print, or of the binding; some have carried it so far, as to cause the upper shelves to be filled with painted books of wood; others pique themselves so much upon books in a language they do not understand, as to exclude the most useful in one they do. 5 The false taste in music, improper to the subjects; as of light airs in churches, often practised by the organist, ke. On painted ceilings you devoutly stare, But hark! the chiming clocks to dinner call; I curse such lavish cost, and little skill, Yet hence the poor are clothed, the hungry fed 12; Another age shall see the golden ear Imbrown the slope, and nod on the parterre, Deep harvests bury all his pride has plann'd, And laughing Ceres re-assume the land. Who then shall grace, or who improve the soil? Who plants like BATHURST, or who builds like "Tis use alone that sanctifies expense, [BOYLE. And splendour borrows all her rays from sense. His father's acres who enjoys in peace, Or makes his neighbours glad if he increase : Whose cheerful tenants bless their yearly toil, Yet to their lord owe more than to the soil; Whose ample lawns are not ashamed to feed The milky heifer, and deserving steed; Whose rising forests, not for pride or show, But future buildings, future navies grow: Let his plantations stretch from down to down, First shade a country, and then raise a town. You too proceed! make falling arts your care, Erect new wonders, and the old repair; 6 And in painting (from which even Italy is not free) of naked figures in churches, &c., which has obliged some popes to put draperies on some of those of the best masters. 7 Verrio (Antonio) painted many ceilings, &c., at Windsor, Hampton Court, &c., and Laguerre at Blenheim Castle, and other places. 8 This is a fact. A reverend dean, preaching at court, threatened the sinner with punishment in "a place which he thought it not decent to name in so polite an assembly." • Taxes the incongruity of ornaments (though sometimes practised by the ancients), where an open mouth ejects the water into a fountain, or where the shocking images of serpents, &c., are introduced into grottoes or buffets. 10 The proud festivals of some men are here set forth to ridicule, where pride destroys the ease, and formal regu larity all the pleasurable enjoyment, of the entertainment. 11 See Don Quixote, chap. xlvii. 12 This is the moral of the whole; where Providence is justified in giving riches to those who squander them in this manner. A bad taste employs more hands, and diffuses wealth more usefully than a good one. This recurs to what is laid down in Book I. Ep. ii. ver. 230-7, and in the epistle preceeding this, ver. 161, &c. H Jones and Palladio to themselves restore, EPISTLE V2. TO MR. ADDISON. OCCASIONED BY HIS DIALOGUES ON MEDALS. SEE the wild waste of all-devouring years! Perhaps, by its own ruins saved from flame, Ambition sigh'd: she found it vain to trust Their ruins perish'd, and their place no more! 1 The Poet, after having touched upon the proper objects of magnificence and expense, in the private works of great men, comes to those great and public works which become a prince. This poem was published in the year 1732, when some of the new-built churches, by the act of Queen Anne, were ready to fall, being founded in boggy land (which is satirically alluded to in our author's imitation of Horace, Lib. ii. sat. ii. "Shall half the new-built churches round thee fall?) " others were vilely executed, through fraudulent cabals between undertakers, officers, &c. Dagenham-breach had done very great mischiefs; many of the highways throughout England were hardly passable; and most of those which were repaired by turnpikes were made jobs for private lucre, and infamously executed, even to the entrance of London itself. The proposal of building a bridge at Westminster had been petitioned against and rejected; but in two years after the publication of this poem, an act for building a bridge passed through both houses. After many debates in the committee, the execution was left to the carpenter above-mentioned, who would have made it a wooden one; to which our author alludes in these lines: "Who builds a bridge that never drove a pile? Should Ripley venture, all the world would smile." 2 This was originally written in the year 1715, when Mr. Addison intended to publish his book of medals; it was sometime before he was Secretary of State; but not published till Mr. Tickel's edition of his works: at which time the verses on Mr. Craggs, which conclude the poern, were added, viz. in 17.0. Convinced, she now contracts her vast design, The medal, faithful to its charge of fame, Theirs is the vanity, the learning thine: Touch'd by thy hand, again Rome's glories shine; Her gods, and godlike heroes rise to view, And all her faded garlands bloom anew. Nor blush, these studies thy regard engage; These pleased the fathers of poetic rage; The verse and sculpture bore an equal part, And art reflected images to art. Oh when shall Britain, conscious of her claim, Stand emulous of Greek and Roman fame ? In living medals see her wars enroll❜d, And vanquish'd realms supply recording gold? Here, rising bold, the patriot's honest face; There warriors frowning in historic brass : Then future ages with delight shall see How Plato's, Bacon's, Newton's looks agree; Or in fair series laurel'd bards be shown, A Virgil there, and here an Addison. Then shall thy CRAGGS (and let me call him mine) On the cast ore, another Pollio, shine; With aspect open, shall erect his head, And round the orb in lasting notes be read, "Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear; Who broke no promise, served no private end, Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend; Ennobled by himself, by all approved, And praised, unenvied, by the muse he loved." EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT, BEING THE PROLOGUE TO THE SATIRES. Motto to the first edition, published in folio, 1734: "Neque sermonibus vulgi dederis te, nec in præmiis humanis spem posueris rerum tuarum; suis te oportet illecebris ipsa virtus trahat ad verum decus. Quid de te alii loquantur, ipsi videant, sed lo quentur tamen." CICERO, ADVERTISEMENT. This paper is a sort of bill of complaint, begun many years since, and drawn up by snatches, as the several occasions offered. I had no thoughts of publishing it, till it pleased some persons of rank and fortune (the authors of Verses to the Imitator of Horace, and of an Epistle to a Doctor of Divinity from a Nobleman at Hampton-court) to attack, in a very extraordinary manner, not only my writings (of which, being public, the public is judge) but my person, morals, and family, whereof, to those who know me not, a truer information may be requisite. Being divided between the necessity to say something of myself, and my own laziness to undertake so awkward a task, I thought it the shortest way to put the last hand to this epistle. If it have any thing pleasing, it will be that by which I am most desirous to please, the truth, and the sentiment; and if any thing offensive, it will be only to those I am least sorry to offend, the vicious, or the ungenerous. Many will know their own pictures in it, there being not a circumstance but what is true; but I have for the most part spared their names, and they may escape being laughed at, if they please. I would have some of them know, it was owing to the request of the learned and candid friend to whom it is inscribed, that I make not as free use of theirs, as they have done of mine. However, I shall have this advantage, and honour, on my side, that whereas, by their proceeding, any abuse may be directed at any man, no injury can possibly be done by mine, since a nameless character can never be found out, but by its truth and likeness. P. SHUT, shut the door, good John! fatigued I Tie up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead.' By land, by water, they renew the charge, Is there a parson much be-mused in beer, A clerk, foredoom'd his father's soul to cross, Friend to my life! (which did not you prolong, With honest anguish, and an aching head; Three things another's modest wishes bound, If I dislike it, "Furies, death, and rage!" print it, "'Sdeath, I'll [Lintot." And shame the fools-Your interest, sir, with Lintot, dull rogue! will think your price too much : "Not, sir, if you revise it, and retouch." All my demurs but double his attacks; At last he whispers, "Do; and we go snacks." "Tis sung, when Midas' ears began to spring, (Midas, a sacred person and a king) His very minister who spied them first, (Some say his queen2) was forced to speak, or And is not mine, my friend, a sorer case, [burst. When every coxcomb perks them in my face? A. Good friend, forbear! you deal in dang'rous things. I'd never name queens, ministers, or kings; You think this cruel? take it for a rule, No creature smarts so little as a fool. No names-be calm-learn prudence of a friend: The name taken from a foolish poet of Rhodes, who pretended much to Greek. Schol. in Horat. 1. 1. Dr. Bentley pretends, that this Pitholeon libeled Cæsar also. See notes on Hor. Sat. 10. 1. i. 2 The story is told, by some, of his barber, but by Chaucer, of his queen. See Wife of Bath's Tale in Dryden's fables. 3Si fractus illabatur orbis, Of all mad creatures, if the learn'd are right, There are, who to my person pay their court: I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came. The muse but served to ease some friend, not wife, A. But why then publish? P. Granville the And knowing Walsh, would tell me I could write; Soft were my numbers; who could take offence If want provoked, or madness made them print, 1 All these were patrons or admirers of Mr. Dryden ; though a scandalous libel against him, entitled Dryden's Satire to his Muse, has been printed in the name of the Lord Somers, of which he was wholly ignorant. These are the persons to whose account the author charges the publication of his first pieces: persons with whom he was conversant (and he adds beloved) at sixteen or seventeen years of age; an early period for such acquaintance. The catalogue might be made yet more illustrious, had he not confined it to that time when he writ the Pastorals and Windsor Forest, on which he passes a sort of censure in the lines following: "While pure description held the place of sense," &c. 2 Authors of secret and scandalous history. 3A painted meadow, or a purling stream," is a verse of Mr. Addison. Pains, reading, study, are their just pretence, Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms! Were others angry: I excused them too; He, who still wanting, though he lives on theft, It is not poetry, but prose run mad: Peace to all such! but were there one whose fires What tho' my name stood rubric on the walls, Or plaster'd posts, with claps, in capitals? 4 Amb. Philips translated a book called the Persian Tales, a book full of fancy and imagination. 5 See their works, in the translations of classical books by several hands. 6 It was a great falsehood, which some of the libels reported, that this character was written after the gentleman's death; which see refuted in the testimonies prefixed to the Dunciad. But the occasion of writing it was such as he would not make public, out of regard to his memory: and all that could further be done was to omit the name in the edition of his works. |