though now unhappily lost, yet is its nature sufficiently known by the infallible tokens aforesaid. And thus it doth appear, that the first Dunciad was the first Epic poem, written by Homer himself, and anterior even to the Iliad or Odyssey. Now, forafmuch as our poet hath translated those two famous works of Homer which are yet left, he did conceive it in some fort his duty to imitate that also which. was loft: and was therefore induced to bestow on it the fame form which Homer's is reported to have had,. namely that of Epic poem; with a title also framed after the ancient Greek manner, to wit, that of Dunciad. Wonderful it is, that so few of the moderns have been stimulated to attempt fome Dunciad! since, in the opinion of the multitude, it might cost less pain and toil than an imitation of the greater Epic. But poffible it is also, that, on due reflection, the maker might find it easier to paint a Charlemagne, a Brute, or a Godfrey, with just pomp and dignity heroic, than a Margites, a Codrus, or a Fleckno. We shall next declare the cecafion and the cause which moved our poet to this particular work. He lived in those days, wlien (after Providence had permitted the invention of Printing as a scourge for the Ans of the learned) Paper alfo became fo cheap, and Printers so numerous, that a deluge of authors covered the land: Whereby not only the Peace of the honest unwriting subject was daily molested, but unmerciful demands were made of his applause, yea of his money, by by fuch as would neither earn the one, nor deferve the other. At the same time, the licence of the Prefs was such, that it grew dangerous to refuse them either: for they would forthwith publish slanders unpunished, the authors being anonymous, and skulking under the wings of publishers, a set of men who neither scrupled to vend either Calumny or Blafphemy, as long as the Town would call for it. a Now our author, living in those times, did conceive it an endeavour well worthy an honest Satirift, to diffuade the dull, and punish the wicked, the only way that was left. In that public-fpirited view he laid the plan of this poem, as the greatest service he was capable (without much hurt, or being flain) to render his dear country. First, taking things from their original, he confidereth the causes creative of such Authors, namely Dulness and Poverty; the one born with them, the other contracted by neglect of their proper talents, through felf-conceit of greater abilities. This truth he wrappeth in an Allegory b (as the construction of Epic poesy requireth) and feigns that one of these Goddesses had taken up her abode with the other, and that they jointly inspired all such writers and fuch works. He proceedeth to fhew the qualities they bestow on these authors, and the effects they produced: then the materials, or stock, with which they furnish theme; and a Vide Bossu, Du Poeme Epique, chap. viii. b Boffu, chap. vii. d Ver. 45 to 54. cBook I. ver. 32, &c. e Ver. 57 to 77. (above all) that felf-opinion of which causeth it to feem to themselves vastly greater than it is, and is the prime motive of their setting up in this sad and forry merchandise. The great power of these Goddesses acting in alliance (whereof as the one is the mother of Induftry, so is the other of Plodding) was to be exemplified in fome one great and remarkable Action: & And none could be more fo than that which our poet hath chofen; viz. the restoration of the reign of Chaos and Night, by the ministry of Dulness their daughter, in the removal of her imperial feat from the City to the polite World; as the Action of the Æneid is the restoration of the empire of Troy, by the removal of the race from thence to Latium. But as Homer fingeth only the Wrath of Achilles, yet includes in his Poem the whole history of the Trojan war, in like manner our author hath drawn into this single Action the whole history of Dulness and her children. A Perfon must next be fixed upon to support this Action. This Phantom in the Poet's mind must have a Name: He finds it to be and he becomes of course the Hero of the poem. The Fable being thus, according to the best example, one and entire, as contained in the Proposition; the Machinery is a continued chain of Allegories, setting forth the whole Power, Ministry, and Empire of f Book I. ver. 80. & Ibid. chap. vii, viii. h Boflu, chap. viii. Vide Ariftot. Poetic. cap. ix. : Dulness, Dulness, extended through her fubordinate instruments, in all her various operations. This is branched into Episodes, each of which hath its Moral apart, though all conducive to the main end. The Crowd afsembled in the second book, demonftrates the design to be more extensive than to bad poets only, and that we may expect other Episodes of the Patrons, Encouragers, or Paymasters of such authors, as occafion shall bring them forth. And the third book, if well confidered, seemeth to embrace the whole world. Each of the Games relateth to fome or other vile class of writers: The first concerneth the Plagiary, to whom he giveth the name of Moore; the second, the libellous Novelist, whom he styleth Eliza; the third, the Flattering Dedicator; the fourth, the bawling Critic, or noisy Poet; the fifth, the dark and dirty Party-writer; and so of the rest: assigning to each some proper name or other, fuch as he could find. As for the Characters, the public hath already acknowledged how justly they are drawn: The manners are so depicted, and the sentiment so peculiar to those to whom applied, that surely to transfer them to any other or wifer personages, would be exceeding difficult: And certain it is, that every person concerned, being confulted apart, hath readily owned the resemblance of every portrait, his own excepted. So Mr. Cibber calls them, "a parcel of poor wretches, so many filly "fliesi: but adds, our Author's Wit is remarkably i Cibber's Letter to Mr. P. page 9. 12. 41. " more bare and barren, whenever it would fall foul "on Cibber, than upon any other Person whatever." The Defcriptions are fingular, the Comparisons very quaint, the Narration various, yet of one colour: The purity and chastity of Diction is so preserved, that, in the places most suspicious, not the words but only the images have been censured, and yet are those images no other than have been sanctified by ancient and classical Authority (though, as was the manner of those good times, not so curiously wrapped up) yea, and commented upon by the most grave Doctors, and approved Critics. As it beareth the name of Epic, it is thereby fubjected to such severe indispensable rules as are laid on all Neoterics, a strict imitation of the Ancients; infomuch that any deviation, accompanied with whatever poetic beauties, hath always been cenfured by the found Critic. How exact that limitation hath been in this piece, appeareth not only by its general ftructure, but by particular illusions infinite, many whereof have escaped both the commentator and poet himfelf; yea divers by his exceeding diligence are so altered and interwoven with the rest, that several have already been, and more will be, by the ignorant abufed, as altogether and originally his own. In a word, the whole poem proveth itself to be the work of our Author when his faculties were in full vigour and perfection; at that exact time when years have ripened the Judgment, without diminishing the Imagination: which, by good Critics, is held to be punctually |