hedge or a tree, and every object, as satire was never more unmercifully it presents itself, becomes the subject used than in the friendly admonitions of conversation. Horace dwells on no he gives them, from verse 469 to verse one subject long enough to gratify the 485; it is, perhaps, impossible to desire of knowledge; seldom gives a laugh with more bitterness and conrule with such precision as to make tempt than he does at the poor devils its application easy to a novice in the in the seven last verses of this passage. art; goes off every moment from par- In this humour he returns, before he ticulars to universals; from dramatic is aware, to versification; and now he poetry to poetry in general; and ne- carries it so far with his brethren of glects no opportunity of aiming a side- the quill, as to inform them what an thrust at those who would be poets Iambus is-(the young Pisos must invitâ Minervâ. In this manner he have learned that from their preceptor goes on from the 165th to the 287th at home.) Next, with a certain deverse, when he now seems in good gree of indignation at the partiality of earnest to initiate his pupil into the the Romans for their old poets, he resecrets of the dramatic art. He in proaches them with the want of orreality touches, especially from v. 339 ganic acuteness to judge of the harto v. 356, on some points of the great- mony of a verse, and, at the same est moment; but after having intro- time, declares, that their indulgence duced the beautiful sketch of the four to those who could not submit to the ages of man, he soon hastens away labour of the file was the chief cause from any thing that has the smallest why, in all the departments of poetry, resemblance to precept in this kind and particularly in the dramatic, they of poetry, to dwell upon the part to remained so far behind their masters, be performed by the chorus, which, the Greeks. Correctness is, in his from the tragedies of Greece, must opinion, the great perfection of the have been sufficiently known to the art; and he conjures, one may say, Romans of the Augustan age. He the young Pisos, by the lustre of now wanders into a kind of historico- their house, (vos O P. sanguis,) to let philosophical deduction of the causes nothing pass for a poetical work which why, and the manner in which the has not, by unwearied diligence, been Chorus, by degrees, became that brought to the highest polish, and which Eschylus made it, and how from where beauty is not found without the Chorus of the oldest tragedies, or spot or blemish. It was his opinion goat-songs, satirical plays arose. If that the Romans set too high a value this distinguished poet had really in- on the mental powers, and too little tended to write an Art of Poetry, it on the labours of art; that to a poem, would be altogether inconceivable why which should merit the name, the lathe should dwell longer on such an in- ter were no less necessary than the significant sort of coarse little pieces former; and that what made the than on tragedy and comedy them- Greeks so much excel was, that fire selves. But an author, who has bound or genius in the composition was alhimself to nothing, cannot be called to ways, among them, united to diligence a strict account; and, having in his and perseverance in giving the finishmind a certain ideal how such satires ing hand to their productions. should be written, he falls into a kind of reverie, musing how he himself would go to work in this way, and seems for some moments to forget that he was not alone. What he says, on this occasion, of the peculiar language that he would adopt for this species of composition, is excellent, and may furnish a poet of real genius with a great variety of useful hints. He amuses himself so much and so long with this idea, that he becomes warmer than we have hitherto found him; his humour increases, and, with uninterrupted vivacity, he gives the poetasters lash after lash. The scourge of In the passage from verse 594 to 694, Horace gives excellent precepts, and makes profound reflections upon the forming of a poet; points out the deep and laborious studies through which he must pass; and shows how much these contribute to the production of a work that shall survive its author. But the whole is thrown together in such confusion, that the agreeable carelessness of the epistolary style is not a sufficient apology for the poet, and that one is almost tempted to believe he introduced this disorder on purpose to confound the young Piso by the multiplicity and incohe rence of his rules, and, by his manner of representing the subject, to make the difficulty appear so much the greater. Such a conjecture gains more and more credibility, when we observe, that, in the midst of all this confusion, which would be intolerable in a poem really didactic, there are found, here and there, very visible traces of a certain fine manoeuvring, and of the poet's eye being continually directed to what he has in view. If, from the beginning, he had shown too clearly at what he aimed, he might have been almost certain he would miss the mark. But our author shows a little more dexterity. He makes an offer, in the friendliest manner, to the young gentleman, who is all on fire to mount the arduous hill of the Muses, to be his fellow-traveller and guide. He leads him along a path, by the length and steepness of which the boldest might have been disheartened. The youth is now dismayed, he had imagined the way so short and pleasant; he had never dreamed of so many dangers and difficulties; he becomes quite fatigued before he is half way up; his guide encourages him; makes him stop a little to take breath; brings him, before he is aware, to a spot, from which he shows him, in the best possible light, the end of all his wishes. They set out again; but the road becomes always longer and longer, and, the more they advance, the more difficult. The beautiful temple, of which they have, from time to time, a distant peep, seems, instead of coming nearer, always to retire farther from them; and the guide, constantly dragging the disheartened youth along, has the ill-nature to talk to him of dangers which, without more than usual good fortune, it would be impossible for them to escape. He speaks of quagmires where they might easily be swallowed up; of dreadful precipices; of steep ascents that still lay before them; of what had befallen many others who had attempted what they were now attempting. And, when he had set all this before him, he, at last, abruptly tells him, that it depended on himself whether he would continue this perilous journey all alone, or, which was the safest course, abandon his design. It is nearly in this manner that Horace treats the young Piso, whom he accompanies on his tour of Parnas sus-From time to time, when he sees him quite crest-fallen, quite dismayed at the magnitude and difficulty of the things required of him, he seems willing to reanimate his courrge; he speaks of the rule of Five Acts (a rule as easily followed by a dunce as by an Eschylus) as a matter of the utmost importance; he teaches him how to make trimetrical iambics; he speaks of faults which we must overlook in a poet, observing, that, after all, we must not expect any thing like perfection from the weakness of human nature; and, at last, concludes by taking him, with great ceremony, aside, and whispering into his ear, with the air of saying something of vast importance, that there was nothing in the world more insufferable than mediocrity in a poet. 66 Here it is (from verse 694) that the real design of Horace, in composing this piece on poetry and poets, begins to be perfectly manifest. We have only to read to see his intention. After all he had done, to convince his young friend how difficult and hazardous the road to the temple of the Muses was, Piso had still one way left of putting illusion on himself. “Very well," might he say, you are probably in the right; but it is not my design, nor is it at all necessary, to be a great master in the art. I make verses for my amusement. Hundreds of young fellows like myself have written tragedies, comedies, elegies, and iambics, without wishing or pretending to any high rank among poets. Supposing that my verses are not the most polished in the world, is not genius always more than art? And then every one is not so severe a critic as you, Sir. Those friends to whom I have recited my essays were very well pleased with them. With my own eyes I have seen the effect which this or that happy passage produced." All these downy pillows on which our young gentleman might have wished to put his uneasy poetical conscience to sleep, our author now softly pulls, one after another, from under his head. In managing this delicate affair, there is not a word to be said against his good breeding. He even tells the young man that he by no means needs to blush at his love to the Muses; but, at the same time, takes from him the possibility of escaping him by any loop-hole what ever. Not even the smallest occasional poem is allowed him. He tells him, that one entertained too high an opinion of his understanding to believe it possible he should ever condescend to make one in the crowd of under-par writers; but, if ever he should resolve on producing any thing, he is advised to be on his guard against faithless and artful friends, who flock about poets of rank and fortune. He is to submit his performance to the severest critics, and to let it lie nine years in his desk, that he may have full time for blotting, for touching, and retouching, or even for burning, should purifying by fire be at last found necessary. When we consider how much in earnest Horace is in warning his young friend against those civil gentlemen, who are ever so ready with their pulchre, bene, recte,—how strenuously he recommends the most inexorable criticism,-how he ever returns, in a new manner, and with new motives, to the grand point of turning the stylus, -we shall be at no great loss to see that he thought he had reason to question Piso's poetical talents. So good a judge as he was does not so anxiously warn where any thing is in time to be expected. Nor does our poet, in the whole course of the piece, so much as once, in a single word, give us to understand that he expected any thing from the young Piso. He sees nothing but the danger of disgrace; and, in order still more strongly to impress on the young gentleman's mind the idea of this disgrace, he once more, at the conclusion, treats mere pretenders to poetry so roughly, that the young man must absolutely have belonged to the incurables if, after reading such a manuduction to the poetic art, he had still retained the smallest inclination to pursue so perilous a course. Might this translation, or paraphrase, or humble imitation, be so fortunate as to produce on all those of our own country who resemble the young Roman the same effect that Horace wished to produce on him! This is the greatest advantage that can be obtained from the epistle to the Pisos. The author, I repeat it, had obviously nothing else in view. The reader will recollect that the present article is Wieland's introduction or key to his translation of this Epistle. This Horatian way of treating a young man who, in spite of Nature, will be a poet, is the very best that could be taken. Is the desired effect produced, and does he throw away the pen? So much the better. But if, notwithstanding all that has been said to him, he still proceeds, it is a sure sign that he was born to be either a poet or a madman. M. R. THE MODERN DECAMERON. No. II. Nay, an thou'lt mouth, WE were sitting with great selfcomplacency in the arm-chair mentioned in a former Number, contemplating the close of our labours for the month, and lazily turning over several papers which lay before us, to make a selection of materials for our remaining pages, when the door again burst open, and our friends Jannes and Jambres broke in upon us with the same want of ceremony which we already complained of. We put our hands upon our papers, and were hastily conveying them out of sight, when these two learned Egyptians secured the spoil by main force, before we could deposit it under lock and key. "What is this?" cried Jannes, with a most facetious grin, "no less than five more letters from Holland!""And what have we got here," reechoed Jambres, more old women's stories of the superstitions of Tiviotdale? My dear Mr Editor, this is quite pitiable. If you go on at this rate, do you suppose any body will read one word of your Magazine? Do you not know that it is already currently reported that your readers are reduced to the smallest possible number, and do you think you are fulfilling the duty of an Editor if you do not provide such articles as are interesting and amusing to the public?" "My good friends," replied we, "as to the number of our readers, or the amusement of the public, we, in truth, take very little concern. We have only one rule, which is, to print whatever pleases ourselves. We enjoy the immense gratification of a despotic sovereign, and le Roi le veut is the sole maxim by which we are guided. If we are deserted by the reading public of the present day, we sit among myriads of delighted readers of generations yet unborn, whom we fancy to ourselves imbibing wisdom and virtue from our immortal pages. The mush room race at present existing makes but a very small figure in our imagi nation. Our existence goes back to "their fathers, and to the old time before them;" and we shall continue to exist long after every one of this idle swarm of ephemera has "fluttered through its little day."-" I do not quite understand you," said Jambres."Do you think," said we, "that the existence of the Scots Magazine depends, like that of other vulgar modern publications, on the materials of which it is composed, or on the goodwill of its readers? Is the first, the greatest, and most important of all the literary compilations of this ancient and learned nation to hang upon such slight cobwebs as these? Forbid it every thing that is noble and patriotic in the breast of man! Do you think it is our duty to descend to the low paltry employment of watching the "tides in the affairs of men," and catching every breeze of a transient popularity? We exist much more in a grand abstract, than in any real and individual nature. But, is not the existence of every thing mag nificent of the same kind? What is sublime general idea? And what man "This is all very fine," said Jannes ; but, depend upon it, Mr Editor, you are going down hill. It has been publicly asserted that you have not above one hundred or one hundred and fifty readers, and" Ed. Indeed! they might surely have left us three hundred, the number of patriots that fell with Leonidas at Therinopylæ. We tell you again, we do not care whether we are much read or not; like the old oak in Lucan, we are, at least, certain of being universally respected. Qualis frugifero quercus sublimis in agro hærens ramos Effundens, trunco, non frondibus efficit umbram: At quamvis primo nutet casura sub Euro Jambres. So you admit that you are nodding, and that your roots are not very firmly fixed? Ed. These are the only lines that do not apply. We sometimes nod, to from a little tendency to sleep; and, be sure, like Homer, but it is solely as to our roots, we believe them to be just as closely interwoven with the existence of Scotland itself as a All travellers at first incline And this, we are persuaded, is the uppermost feeling in the hearts of our generous countrymen. If, for a time, we may seem to be losing ground by the attacks which are made upon us, -to recur again to the simile of the oak,-the issue, depend upon it, will be Duris ut ilex tonsa bipennibus so that, in this way, we feel perfectly secure; and, although we should doze on occasionally through numbers or volumes in as hum-drum a state as we please, we have no kind of apprehension about the result. We decidedly stand at the head of the literature of Scotland. We know very well that all its literary glory depends, in a manner, upon our existence. In our pages, we have no doubt, will be found the ebauches of every splendid and important speculation or discovery of which our inventive country can boast. We do not, indeed, at this moment, recollect any instance but one. No less a person than the eloquent and philosophic Dugald Stewart acknowledges that some of his speculations on the state of the mind in dreaming, though not borrowed by him from the Scots Magazine, yet were very singularly anticipated there; but we, moreover, boldly affirm, that the first rude ideas of Hume's, Smith's, and Kames's speculations-not to mention Dr Black's latent heat and Mr Watt's steam-engine must necessarily be found by a careful search into our mysterious volumes. There are only about ninety of them, so that it will be no great labour for our one hundred and fifty readers to verify our assertion. They need not take so much as a volume a-piece. At this very hour, if we are not greatly mistaken, our correspondent Philotheus is throwing out hints which will give an entire new aspect to the Philosophy of the Human Mind, and, it the world is so stupid as not to see this, it is no fault of ours. † * Frondis pro silva, per synecdochen. SCRIBL. + We would not have Philotheus, how ever, plume himself too highly on his metaphysical discoveries. A Mr John Fearn has beat him all to nothing with his grand “Generic Principle of the Varieties of Colours." Mr Fearn is very anxious to VOL. VII. Jambres. Who cares for the Philosophy of the Human Mind? Every body now is convinced that it is mere fudge. Can't you give us something entertaining? Ed. We don't know what other people may think, but we maintain that there never was any thing writ ten more entertaining than the description of the great organ of Haarlem, in our last letter from Holland; and we are ourselves so thoroughly persuaded of the inimitable excellence of all these letters, that we are quite determined to print every one of them in due time. There is an infinite deal of Attic wit scattered throughout our writings, which we cannot exemplify at present, but it must have irresistibly struck all our readers, and, although it makes no great dash, it tells prodigiously in the long run.-But we have said enough in our own praise for one bout; would you like now to have a peep into any of our private stores? There are one or two little pieces which we can find time to read Ah! here is an original letter of the great Franklin. We cannot tell you any thing at all about the subject of it but there it is. Read it aloud, friend Jannes.. Jannes. " Franklin to Dr Fothergill. Copy of a letter from Dr Philadelphia, March 14, 1764. "DEAR DOCTOR,-I received your favour of the 10th December. It was time is so little his own. a great deal for one to write whose "By the way, when do you intend will you retire to your villa, give yourto live? i. e. to enjoy life. When self repose, delight yourself in viewing the operations of nature in the vegetable creation, assist her in her works, get your ingenious friends at times about you, make them happy with your conversation, and enjoy claim a priority in the statement and application of this principle,-but we put him one home question. Did he ever read the 21st volume of the Scots Magazine? This unexpected query, we know, will come like a thunderbolt upon him, but we hope will not actually be his death. A foot note of Mr Stewart, in which his principle has been slightly glanced at, has lain upon him for five years like a night-inare, and almost suffocated him. Never while he lives let him read another foot note. 3 K |