compositions of this moral kind. He then not only requires flowing numbers, but an expression concise and unencumbered; wit, exerted with good breeding, and managed with reserve; as, upon some occasions, the sentiments may be enforced with all the strength of eloquence and poetry; and, though, in some parts, the piece may appear with a more serious and solemn cast of colouring, yet, upon the whole, he tells us, it must be lively and riant. This I take to be his meaning in the following passage:

Est brevitate opus, ut currat sententia, neu se
Impediat verbis lassas onerantibus aures ;
Et sermone opus est, modo tristi, sæpe jocoso,
Defendente vicem modo rhetoris, atque poetæ ;
Interdum urbani, parcentis viribus, atque
Extenuantis eas consulto.

Such, then, was the notion which Horace had of this kind of writing. And if there is any propriety in these his rules, if they are founded on the truth of taste and art; I fear the performance in question, with numberless others of the same stamp, (which have not, however, wanted admirers) must inevitably stand condemned. The truth of it is, most of the pieces which are usually produced upon this plan, rather give one an image of Lucilius, than of Horace: the authors of them seem to mistake the awkward negligence of the favourite of Scipio, for the easy air of the friend of Mæcenas.

You will still tell me, perhaps, that the example of Horace himself is an unanswerable objection to the notion I have embraced; as there are numberless lines in his satires and epistles, where the ver

sification is evidently neglected. But are you sure, Hortensius, that those lines which sound so unharmonious to a modern ear, had the same effect upon a Roman one? For myself, at least, I am much inclined to believe the contrary; and it seems highly incredible, that he who had ventured to censure Lucilius for the uncouthness of his numbers, should himself be notoriously guilty of the very fault against which he so strongly exclaims. Most certain it is, that the delicacy of the ancients, with respect to numbers, was far superior to any thing that modern taste can pretend to; and that they discovered differences, which are to us absolutely imperceptible. To mention only one remarkable instance: A very ancient writer has observed upon the following verse in Virgil,

Arma virumque cano, Trojæ qui primus ab oris→→→

that if, instead of primus, we were to pronounce it primis, (is being long, and us short) the entire harmony of the line would be destroyed. But whose ear is now so exquisitely sensible, as to perceive the distinction between those two quantities? Some refinement of this kind might probably give music to those lines in Horace, which now seem so untuneable.

In subjects of this nature, it is not possible, perhaps, to express one's ideas in any very precise and determinate manner. I will only, therefore, in general, observe, with respect to the requisite style of these performances, that it consists in a natural ease of expression, an elegant familiarity of phrase, which, though formed ofthe most usual terms of language, has yet a grace and energy, no less striking

There is a

than that of a more elevated diction.
certain lively colouring peculiar to compositions in
this way, which, without being so bright and glow-
ing as is necessary for the higher poetry, is, never-
theless, equally removed from whatever appears
harsh and dry. But particular instances will, per-
haps, better illustrate my meaning than any thing
I can farther say to explain it. There is scarce a
line in the moral epistles of Mr. Pope, which might
not be produced for this purpose. I choose, how-
ever, to lay before you the following verses, not as
preferring them to many others which might be
quoted from that inimitable satirist; but as they
afford me an opportunity of comparing them with a
version of the same original lines, of which they
are an imitation; and, by that means, of showing
you, at one view, what I conceive is, and is not,
in the true manner of Horace :

Peace is my dear delight-not Fleury's more;
But touch me, and no minister so sore.
Whoe'er offends, at some unlucky time,
Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme;
Sacred to ridicule his whole life long,

And the sad burthen of some merry song.

I will refer you to your own memory for the Latin passage, from whence Mr. Pope has taken the ge neral hint of these verses; and content myself with adding a translation of the lines from Horace by another hand :

Behold me, blameless bard, how fond of peace!
But he who hurts me, (nay, I will be heard)

Had better take a lion by the beard;

His eyes shall weep the folly of his tongue,

By laughing crowds in rueful ballad sung.

There is a strength and spirit in the former of these passages, and a flatness and languor in the latter, which cannot fail of being discovered by every reader of the least delicacy of discernment; and yet the words which compose them both are equally sounding and significant. The rules then, which I just now mentioned from Horace, will point out the real cause of the different effects which these two passages produce in our minds; as the passages themselves will serve to confirm the truth and justice of the rules. In the lines from Mr. Pópe, one of the principal beauties will be found to consist in the shortness of the expression; whereas, the sentiments in the other are too much encumbered with words. Thus, for instance,

Peace is my dear delight,

is pleasing because it is concise; as,

Behold me, blameless bard, how fond of peace! is, in comparison of the former, the verba lassas onerantia aures. Another distinguishing perfection in the imitator of Horace, is that spirit of gaiety which he has diffused through these lines, not to mention those happy, though familiar, images of sliding into verse, and hitching in a rhyme; which can never be sufficiently admired. But the translator, on the contrary, has cast too serious an air over his numbers, and appears with an emotion and earnestness that disappoint the force of his satire:

1

Nay, I will be heard,

has the mien of a man in a passion; and

His eyes shall weep the folly of his tongue;

though a good line in itself, is much too solemn and tragical for the undisturbed pleasantry of Ho.

race.

But I need not enter more minutely into an examination of those passages. The general hints I have thrown out in this letter will suffice to show you wherein I imagine the true manner of Horace consists. And after all, perhaps, it can no more be explained, than acquired, by rules of art. It is what true genius can only execute, and just taste alone discover. I am, &c.

XXXVII. TO THE SAME.

Nov. 7, 1730.

YOUR admired poet, I remember, somewhere lays it down as a maxim, that

The proper study of mankind is man.

There cannot, indeed, be a more useful, nor, one should imagine, a more easy science so many lessons of this kind are every moment forcing themselves upon our observation, that it should seem scarce possible not to be well acquainted with the various turns and dispositions of the human heart. And yet there are so few who are really adepts in this article, that to say of a man, he knows the world, is generally esteemed a compliment of the most significant kind.

The reason, perhaps, of the general ignorance which prevails in this sort of knowledge, may arise from our judging too much by universal principles; whereas there is a wonderful disparity in mankind, and numberless characters exist which can

VOL. E..

G