Country Conversations: Being an ACCOUNT Of some DISCOURSES THAT Happened in a VISIT to the Country last Summer, on divers Subjects;  

CHIEF  
Of the Modern Comedies,  
Of Drinking,  
Of Translated Verse,  
Of Painting and Painters,  
Of Poets and Poetry.   

— Recubans sub tegmine fagi  
Sylvestrem tenui Musam meditaris avena.   
LONDON, Printed for Henry Bonwicke, at the Red Lion in St. Paul's Churchyard. 1694.   

TO THE WITS.  
FOR a plain Country Gentleman, who is none of your Fraternity, to meddle in these Matters seems a bold Intrusion; and to do this without any Apology, is still less excusable. I think it therefore, not improper to make a short Address to you, and therein to acquaint you, that what follows, was neither Writ nor Printed out of any Malicious intent to invade your Prerogative of Writing and Censuring. It must be acknowledged that you are the True Proprietors and Sovereign Lords of the English Parnassus; there is not a Shrub, or Twig of Bays that puts forth on that Mountain of the Muses, but is within your Dominion. All that I pretend to, is only the Birthright of a Freeborn Subject, and to enjoy my Liberty of thinking. Should you deny me this, you would certainly be more Arbitrary, and show a greater Tyranny over the Mind, than the Grand Signior does over the Bodies and Purses of his Mussulmen. I made bold to borrow one of your Pens last Summer, and employed it merely for a Pass-time during the Intervals of Angling, and such like Diversions of a Country Retreat, La Maniere de bien penser fell in my way I know not how, and I had a mind to try how something of that Nature would look in our Language. I endeavoured to imitate (though faintly, and afar off) the Original Draught of Le Pere Bouhours: If this Copy may be allowed by you to pass as a thing well meant, though not like, 'tis the most that I desire, and more than I expect; if not, I shall not be much concerned, since I have known some of your own Tribe to be as unsuccessful. Farewell.   

Country Conversations, etc.  

SECT. 1. Of the Modern Comedies.  
ABOUT the middle of last Spring, Lisander a Commoner of the first Rank, and one whose Virtues and Accomplishments had rendered him as Eminent as his Birth and Estate, being to return to his Country Seat (from which he had been absent the whole Winter) resolved notwithstanding to lose as little as might be of the Advantages of the Town, the Chief of which is its Conversation. To this End he engaged Mitis and Julio, two of his most inward Friends, and persons much of his Humour and Character, to bear him Company, and Spend, at least, part of the Summer with him. Nor would Lisander suffer them to go otherwise than in his own Coach, that so he might enjoy the most of their Discourse, and make a kind of Academy on the Road, during this little Voyage; for the Remove was short, and but a Winter days Journey from London: They were no sooner come into the Free and Un-cittyed Air, when Lisander told his Friends they must now resolve to wean themselves, for some time, from the Fountain of News, and exchange the Diversions of the Coffeehouse, and the Theatre, for a Cool Shade and Rural Sports. Mitis Replied, the Change cannot but be very grateful to me, since I am quite sick of the Common Buz at Coffeehouses, News frequently false, mostly uncertain, and sometimes absurdly Ridiculous. You cannot be more Sick, added Julio, of the News, than I am of the New Plays, the Comedies especially, which in my Esteem are nothing comparable to those Writ before the Civil War, and some in the Reign of King Charles the Second. I am absolutely of your mind, said Lisander; and I think one may say, that the Plain Dealer, and Sir Foplin, were the last of our English Comedies, as properly and as truly, as Cremutius Cordus could say, that Brutus and Cassius were the last of the Romans. I perceive, said Mitis, that you two are Confederate against the Modern Comedies, and I shall have much ado to defend them against so Potent an Alliance. But I beseech you Gentlemen, how comes this unmodish Opinion in you, against the Plays in Fashion? I'll tell you, continued Lisander, methinks they have neither the Wit, Conduct, Honour, nor Design of those Writ by Johnson, Shakespeare, and Fletcher. They are (generally speaking) Flashy and Light; like your Whipped Cream they have little or nothing of Substance in them, they seem only suited to humour some present Maggot or Caprice of the Town, without any further Design; and that may be the Reason, that for the most part, when they have once had their Run, they are laid by; and rarely either Acted or Read again in Cool Blood. The Applause that is given them proves, as the Common Phrase is, but a Nine Days Wonder. Whereas there is hardly a Scene in Shakespeare (tho' he Writ near 100 years since) but we have it still in Admiration, for the Vivacity of the Wit, the Justness of the Character, and the True, Natural, and Proper Expression. Plays should be (and have always been in the best Reformed and most Civilised times) Moral Representations, but now most of our New Comedies are become the very Pictures of Immorality. This is a general Charge, said Mitis, and fixes nothing. With Lisander's leave, said Julio, I will give you some particulars. First I must observe, that the Common Parts and Characters in our Modern Comedies, are two young Debauchees whom the Author calls Men of Wit and Pleasure, and sometimes Men of Wit and Sense (but that is when they admire the Name of Lucretius, and seem to have a Judgement above the Common Doctrines of Religion) these two Sparks are mightily addicted to Whoring and Drinking. The Bottle and the Miss (as they Phrase it) twisted together make their Summum Bonum; all their Songs and Discourse is on that Subject. But at last, partly for Variety of Faces, and partly in Consideration of improving their Estate (shattered with Keeping) they Mary two young Ladies, one of which is as wild as possibly can be, so as to scape the Main Chance, the other more reserved, but really as forward to be Married as her Sister. Another necessary Ingredient of a Comedy, is a foolish Kt. (sometimes a Rich Country Squire, but most commonly the Poet Dubs him) and his Fortune is always in the 5th Act to Marry a Cast Whore of one of those fine Gentlemen before mentioned, who like a Man of Honour (such as the Poet makes him) pretends that she is a Person of Quality, and his near Kinswoman. Add to these a Wife somewhat Elderly; but insatiably Liquorish after a fresh Gallant; with a Husband continually exclaiming against the intolerable Labour of a Married Life, and the restless importunities of his Spouse (and yet this unconscio able Cuckold keeps a Whore, incognita). These are the Fundamentals of a Modern Comedy: These you have continually over and over again, the Names only varied, and some little Alteration in the Writing (most commonly for the worse) till the Humours are become Naucious. For instance, a Lewd Wife pretending Honour (like my Lady Corkwood, in she would if she could) but Lasciviously coveting the two Sparks that are Suitors to her Nieces, and all that Run; was New, well contrived, and very diverting at first; and to have it a second time under other Names, in Epsom Wells, was tolerable; but to have the very same again in the Virtuoso, and ten years after that in the Scourers.  — Occidit Miseros Crambe rep tita. 
You are somewhat pleasant, said Mitis interrupting, in your Rehearsal of our Comic Materials, but withal, Julio, you are partial; for there is hardly any New Comedy that appears on the Stage, but has some New Part different from what has been before. 'Tis true, Replied Julio, there is indeed often added a New Quelque chose, or (as commonly called) a Kikshaw, or two, to set off the Entertainment, but these are the standing Dishes, and so often have they been served up, that they are now become Fusty, and will hardly go down with the Waiters. It puts me in mind, said Lisander, of a Frugal Tobacconist, who having a small Twist of Excellent Tobacco given him, was Resolved to manage it to the utmost Advantage; the first Day therefore, he chawed it, and then put it in his Pocket to dry again, the next day he cut it and Smoked it in his Pipe, and after all saved the Ashes to serve him in a Third Capacity, for Snush. But this Tedious Repetition of the same Notions and Images, continued Lisander, might be endured, if they were directed to the improvement of Virtue, or the discountenance of Vice. On the Contrary, we seldom or never see a Character of True Worth, Integrity, and Honour, in any of these Comedies, unless it be brought in merely to be abused, and Laughed out of Countenance. The Debauchee is always the fine Gentleman: 'Tis he that is set up for an Example fit for Imitation and Esteem. And to say the Truth the young Gentry of the Nation have been in this particular Wonderful apt and pregnant Scholars. Whereas in the Comedies of the last Age, tho' you have sometimes People of an ill Character represented, yet they had always some Mark of Disgrace set upon them before the End of the Play; and the contrary Virtue to that Vice was always Triumphant, and made the more Amiable and desirous when compared and set off with the Blemishes of the other. With your permission, said Mitis, I doubt you are under a great mistake in this; for our Wits and Critics have more than once informed us, that Instruction is not the business of Comedy, but Diversion and Laughter. Moral Precepts, say they, are only proper to Tragedy and Grave Subjects: While the Right Object of Comedy is the True and Lively Representation of the Manners and Behaviour of Mankind in the times we Live in, so as to make a pleasant Entertainment, and that's all. Our Poets, continued he, represent the Modern little Actions of Debauchees, as Ben Johnson presented the Humours of his Tankard Bearer, his Paul's Walkers, and his Collegiate Ladies, etc. things then known and familiar to every Body's Notice; and so are these now, and consequently delightful to the times, as Pictures of Faces well known and remarkable. These, Answered Julio, were Ben Jonson's Weaknesses, and have been as such sufficiently exploded by our New fashioned Wits, and therefore methinks they should not be imitated by them of all Men Living. Such Representations are like a Painters taking a Picture after the Life in the Apparel then Worn, which becomes Ungraceful or Ridiculous in the next Age, when the Fashion is out. Mitis thought me under a mistake, said Lisander, but I wish he be not Guilty of a greater in thinking a pleasant Entertainment to be the only Design of a Comedy. Let your Wits and your Critics say what they please, they can never convince me, but that the True End of Comedy as well as Tragedy, aught to be the Reformation of Manners, though they differ in the Operation. The Subject of Tragedy being high, the Precepts, Sententious and Grave, and the Moral carries something of Terror against those who are Great and Wicked, and Raises Compassion for the Sufferings of Good Men. On the other Hand, Comedy relates to the Inferior sort of Mankind, but should be directed to the same End, it should render the Ill Habits of the Vulgar Odious as well as Ridiculous, it should make Folly Blush, and Men ashamed of their Vices; and Encourage Virtue. On the contrary some of our Late Comedies have given the greatest Countenance to Libertinism that can be. by setting forth the extravagant Debauches of the Age as the True Character of a Gentleman, and only Fools and half Witted Creatures to be Considerate and Sober. Tho' they have not dared openly to oppose the Precepts of Religion, yet they have continually Railed against Marriage, as a Curse and Imposition upon Nature; and at the same time set off Whoring with all the Delicacy of Expression, and most obliging Character they could invent. They have not been so Bold as yet (what it may come to in time, I know not) to Represent Obscene Actions on the Stage, nor to Use the Plain downright Expressions of Immodesty, but certainly there is such a continued Thread of Lascivious Meaning (commonly called Baudry in Clean Linen) that Runs through a whole Play, and such apparent and obvious Phrases, that most of them must of necessity be taken in a Lewd Signification, or else they are Nonsense and Absurd. On this Account I think it almost impossible, for the Youth of either Sex to return from one of these Comedies with their Fancy as Innocent, as they went. Poetry, the Dramatic especially, has been properly called a speaking Picture, as Painting, Dumb Poesy. Which Charles Alphonse du Fresnoy, in the beginning of his Poem De Arte Graphicâ, has thus curiously expressed,  
Ut Pictura Poesis erit; similisque Poesi  
Sit Pictura, refert par aemula quaeque Sororem,  
Alternantque Vices & Nomina; muta Poesis  
Dicitur haec, Pictura loquens solet illa vocari.  
Now do but imagine, if the Ideas which these Modern Comedies are full of, were represented by the Pencil to the Eye, in as lively manner as some of our Poets set them forth to the Intellect, would not this be a fitting Object to be exposed to the Public, think you? I will pass over the disrespect that has been shown to the Clergy of all Opinions (thereby insinuating Religion to be but a mere Trade at best) tho' some Scenes have been so gross, that they have been refused to be Acted, and cut out as Undecent for a Public Representation (and yet the Poet has been so fond of them, as to Print 'em with the Rest, in a different Character) However I cannot but observe, that a Statute was made in the Third Year of King James 1. whereby it was Enacted, That if at any time or times, any Person or Persons, do or shall in any Stage Play, Jestingly or Profanely speak, or Use the Holy Name of God, or of Christ Jesus, which are not to be spoken but with Fear and Reverence, he shall Forfeit for every such Offence Ten Pounds; the one Moiety thereof to the King, the other to him or them that shall sue for the same. How often this Penalty has been incurred, I will not determine. 'Tis well we know you, Lisander, said Mitis Smiling; a Stranger would think you nearly Related to William Prin, and that you are about to Compose a Supplement to his Histriomastix. So far from that, Answered Lisander, that I profess myself a Lover of the Stage; I Esteem Plays (if duly Regulated) to be of Excellent Use, for Instruction by Examples, for the Improvement of Wit, and for Innocent diversion of that vacant time, which otherwise might be worse employed. What I have said is in Order to their Continuance, by a timely Reformation of those Scandals which are but too visible and noted. 'Tis well known, that their Suppression has been endeavoured once or twice; and the Actors are not the first sort of Men here in England, whose Institution, tho' it was at first Good and Laudable, yet being afterwards abused, their Enemies have taken occasion from the Abuse, wholly to forbid the Use. The Athenians and Romans, when their Comedies became Licentious, thought it not below the Dignity and Care of their Magistrates to Regulate their Faults. And of later times, we have a fresher and nearer Instance of the Reformation of the Stage. That Great Man, the Cardinal Duke of Richelieu, to whose Wise Councils France does at this day, perhaps, own all her present Grandeur, among all his other Noble Cares for the Advantage of that Kingdom, made it none of the least to Reform the French Stage, that from a scandalous Load of Nautious Farce, which few of Quality would Grace with their Presence, the Objects of the Theatre are now become so Regular and Modest, that Ladies of the Nicest Honour, and the Gravest Church Men see 'em without Offence. Or to Use the Words of my French Author — Par les soins du Grand Cardinal ae Richelieu, lafoy Comedy a tellement changé de face, qu'il n'y reste plus rien de ce qui la faisoit autrefois condamner. Now really I would not have a Nation of the Roman Catholic Communion boast of any sort of Reformation, in which we of the Reformed Religion are wanting.  
Here this Discourse was broke off for some time. After which Interruption the Company being again settled, Mitis put Julio in mind of his Promise to give particular instances of the Defects and Blemishes of our late Comedies, and of the contrary Beauties of those before the Wars. Whereupon Julio, in a long Discourse, produced out of Ben. Johnson, Shakespeare, Beaumond and Fletcher, Messenger, Shirley, and Sir William Davenant, before the Wars, and some Comedies of Mr. Drydens', since the Restauration, many Characters of Gentlemen, of a quite different Strain from those in the Modern Plays. Whose Conversation was truly Witty, but not Lewd, Brave and not Abusive; Ladies full of Spirit and yet Nicely Virtuous; with abundance of Passages discovering an admirable Invention, and quickness of thought, and yet decently facetious. On the contrary he gave infinite Examples out of Modern Comedies of another Stamp, mistaken Images of Bravery, Virtue despised, and the very Genius of Immodesty, not dropped here and there, but so diffused, that it seems the Soul of the Play. He took occasion to speak of the Comic Scenes in Tragedies, or Tragic Stories, (much used by the Poets of the last Age) which they called Tragy-Comedies; he showed how useful they were in many Respects, but that they were always subservient to the main Design, and were used chief to Illustrate, Heighten, and set off, the Moral of the Play. He showed also how those Poets had always in their thoughts that Old Verse,  Omne tulit Punctum qui miscuit Utile dulci. 
And that those who Writ most Correct and considerately squared their Designs by that Rule. But now said he, the Vtile seems wholly lost and forgotten, and the Dulce is become palled, Corrupted, and Sour; as Honey itself, and the best sort of Sweet Meats will be with keeping. Julio was going on in this manner, but the Coach was now Arrived at Lisander's Village, and the Noise of the Bells that were Ringing to welcome his Coming, would not suffer any further Discourse at that time.   

SECT. II. Of Drinking.  
LYsander being thus possessed of the Society of those two Persons whom he Wrote in the first List of his Friends, was Resolved to give them all the Diversions his Country could afford, which was certainly Inferior to no Part of England for all sorts of Game, and good Humoured Conversation. To Visit and be Visited, are the usual Ways by which those of the better sort pass off their vacant time in the Country. Two or three days after Lisander's Arrival, several of the Neighbouring Gentry came to Welcome his Return. Among whom was Belamy a Gentleman of Handsome Parts, and Wit enough, but he had Learned at Oxford (where he had spent some years) among other Arts, the Science of good Drinking. Which, with his Country Practise since, had rendered him most expert, in that Noble Science. He knew the Nature and Force of all sorts of Wines, and had made an Engine (of which he was the Inventor) whereby to Essay, or Prove 'em, as they do Gunpowder, and know how far they would carry, and at what distance of time do Execution. The Learning of Wines being somewhat Foreign, required more of Reading and Study, and a kind of Mathematical Head to make his Conclusions; but as for Our Manufacture, all the abstruse Questions relating to Ale, were so easy and obvious to his understanding, that (as I may say) it was his proper Element. He knew how by its own natural ferment (without the least Adultery of Art) to Raise, Refine, Heighten, and even inebriate the Liquor itself. To this end only he had Studied the Principles of Astronomy, and could tell you the Critical Minute when most successfully to brew, when to Tun, when to Bottle, and when to Drink; and how many hours Sleep is requisite after a full Dose, a half Dose, and a quarter Dose. All this Curious Learning and forty times as much more on the same Subject, Belamy was a Complete Master of. After Dinner the Bottles began to Muster according to Modern Discipline. Mitis and Julio, foresaw an Assault, and began to cast up all the Arguments they could, to fortify their Camp against the Enemy: Mitis especially, who was one of those Staunch and Abstemious Humourists that Drink more Tea than Claret; understand me, between Meals; for at Dinner he always took his Glass in Course, and thought it then as absurd to forbear Wine as to drink Coffee. Belamy who happened to fit next him, and having observed him at Dinner to drink freely enough, and never balk a Health, he concluded he would do the like at all times; perceiving therefore now, that he trifled with his Glass, and (as he Phrased it) did not Drink fairly, he began to press upon him, and urge him to be sociable, alleging for a main Argument, that after this Rate we shall be Drunk before you. Mitis a little moved to find the Conscience less free in Drinking than Religion, Replied, Do you Esteem that an Advantage, or disadvantage? a Happiness, or Misfortune? Let me perish if I can imagine which you think it. For if you think it a misfortune, who constrains you to drink a stronger Liquor, or in a greater quantity, than I do? But if you think it a Happiness or Advantage, what Reason have you to complain of that? This was a Dilemma which Bellamy was not at that time prepared to Answer, he therefore Balked the Question, as Mitis had done the Glass, and in a more Complaisant manner, entreated him to begin a Health, such as he pleased. Will you then pledge me in Tea, said Mitis. Not while there is Wine in the County, Replied the other. And what, continued Mitis, should oblige me to Drink your Liquor, more than you mine? Suppose a Water Drinker here (you know there are many such) whose long continued Custom has made it natural to drink nothing but pure Element. Would you think it Civility to press him to pledge you a Bumper in Claret, or on the other hand, would you not think him Mad to urge you to Pledge a Pint Glass from the Cistern? A Water Drinker, says Bellamy, is Company for my Horse, and unfit for Society. Hereupon M●tis demanded, what do you call Society? The other replied readily, Wit, Mirth, and good Humour; which none can be Master of without a generous Bottle. And yet, said Mitis, Voiture drunk Water. That very Name has the force of a thousand Arguments against you. Besides, Water is the natural Drink of the whole Creation; the only Drink, in probability, before the Flood, when Mankind lived to the extravagancy of Old Age; and certainly could we reduce ourselves to that which was Adam's Liquor, and leave that of Noah, whose first appearance in the World was unluckily and ominous, we should avoid a thousand Distractions, & (which is the constant effect of Drinking in me) as many painful Surfeits and Fevers. That's only for want of Practice, said Belamy; if you did but use it more, you would not be disturbed; no more than I, who am as Brisk and well next day after my three Bottles over Night, as if it were Mothers Milk. Are you sure it agrees so well with you, said Mstis slily, I should be apt to think it does not. Do you think me, answered Belamy somewhat hastily, a Fool or a Madman? Why sure you'll give me leave to understand my own Constitution better than you; and Judge of my own Temper from Experience truer than you can. You have Reason, answered Mitis; and why must I be supposed such an Idiot that I cannot do the same of my Temper from my Experience? You Advise me to Drink Wine more frequently, that it may by constant practice, be familiar to my Stomach, and that I may have my Health after it. Is not this Ridiculous, when I have my Health already without it? I know there is a sort of People who think it conducing to their Health (or at least their Pleasure) once or twice a Week to be very Merry, as they call it, that is in English, down Drunk: and this in their Phrase is to give Nature a Fillip. How you approve of this I know not, for my part I think such a Course of Life as far from pleasure as it is from Health. An other thing I have observed among your Good Fellows, which in my Opinion is extremely obsurd; if one Man drinks his Glass less full than his who drank to him, the other cries out in a very Pathetical manner,; Nay Sir, Do me Justice— mine was higher. As if the Contents of one Man's Stomach were the Standard for all Men. They call this Justice, which in reality is the greatest Injustice that belongs to Society. Suppose it were the Custom to Eat Healths and not drink'em (as I see no Reason for one more than tother.) There are some of such Voracious Appetites, that one Man can Eat a whole Shoulder of Mutton at a Bout, or perhaps a Leg of Pork and Turnips. Would you think it reasonable for one of these Eaters to desire his Friends to pledge him, and take off a whole Shoulder? Perhaps his next Neighbour at Table is one of those who have an Aversion for Hog's Flesh, would you think it Civil for one of these Devourers aforesaid to Eat a Health, and press the other to do him Justice, and Pledge him in five or six pound of Pork? Away with your naucious Similes, interrupted Belamy, who ever heard of Eating Healths? The Debate, said Mitis, is not of Eating or Drinking, but measuring the Contents of one Man's Appetite by that of an other.— But what is a Health? Belamy readily gave him this Definition; A Health is only a hearty Wish between two, for the Good and Prosperity of a third Person; and as an Evidence to demonstrate the Reality of our Intention, we take off a Bumper, though perhaps against ones Stomach: Nay, the bigger the Glass is, and the more against nature, the stronger our Affection. A most excellent Demonstration of well wishing! cried Mitis; something like this, continued he, I have read, of a sort of bigoted Turks, who in the height and transport of their Zeal, to show their Love and Devotion to Mahomet, cut and gash their own Flesh, and Stab themselves in the Hand. But here's the difference, some Men among us, when they demonstrate on such occasions as you mention, instead of Wounding themselves they Stab others. Come, come, said Belamy, all your Argumentation signifies not a rush, the Practice of all Europe in this Age, is against you; and Custom must prevail. In my mind, replied Mitis, our Ancestors the Old Britan's had a much better Custom, for which they were proposed as an Example of Temperance: Witness the Poet,  

Ecce Britannorum Mos est laudabilis iste  
Vt bibat arbitrio pocula quisque suo.   
Which with your permission may be Englished thus,  

Among the Britan's we this Custom find,  
That no Man drinks but as he is inclined.   
Methinks ' said Belamy, arbitrio suo may as well be taken in an other quite different sense, and with the same Liberty that you have used, I may render it thus  

Among the Britan's this good Custom was,  
That each Man willingly took off his Glass.   
The rest of the Company who had been hitherto very Attentive to the pleasant Dialogue, could no longer forbear to interpose. Julio, either out of Complaisance to Belamy, being a stranger, or minded to Rally Mitis, highly applauded B●lamy's Version; saying, it showed the very Spirit of Ben. Johnson, when indulging his Genius in the Apollo. Lisander smiled and said he liked the Witty Evasion of the Author's Sense. Others, who were Brothers of the Bottle, were Lavish in their Commendation, and that they might never forget so useful a piece of Poetry, they Writ it down in their Table Books. One of the Company, an Old Cavalier of Grace Age, but of a Wit and Judgement as Vigorous as ever, said, Belamy's Shift puts me in mind of an Evasion that was made (somewhat to better purpose) many years ago, in the time of Oliver's Rebellion. The Parlimentarian Party were very apt to Argue the Righteousness of their Cause from the Success; saying, that God owned his People, and manifested the Justice of their Undertake by the many Victories which he gave them, and a great deal of Cant to that purpose. One of that side who pretended to Learning, said, the Notion was acknowledged in all Ages, which made Lucan Writ,  Victrix Causa Diis placuit— 
A Royalist then present of a Wit as far Superior to his, as his Principles were better, Replied, Consider the whole Verse together, and it makes against you.  Victrix Causa Diis placuit, sed Victa Catoni. 
Now all History tells us of what Eminent Virtues, and how excellent a Man That Cato was; and we are still better informed, from the Holy Scripture, that the Heathen Gods were Devils, Omnes Dii gentium Daemonia. (Psal. 95. v. 5.) The plain English therefore of that Verse in Lucan is no more than this;  
Devils the Conquering Cause like best,  
But Divine Cato the Oppressed.  
This Translation, says Julio, would certainly have pleased Father Bouhours, who in all probability would have preferred it to the Latin, since in the very beginning of his Man ere de bien penser, he falls foul on Lucan for representing, in that place, a Mortal Man to be of a better Character for Justice and Compassion, than the Gods, contrary to the Universally received Notions of a Deity. Hereupon they fell into a long Discourse of Translated Verse. Lisander affirmed that none can be properly said to Translate well, unless he improves the Author's Thought, or at lest meliorates the Expression in English beyond what it is in Latin, which rarely happens, unless it be from one who has great Judgement in both Languages. And for this reason the Translation of Latin Poetry, Verbally, into English Prose, (or bad Verse, which is worse) is Dull and Flat, tho' never so good in the Original, because it wants the Delicacy of Expression, and the Harmony of Measure and Cadence, which belongs to true Poesy. Julio acknowledged what Lisander said, to be undoubted Truth, and observed further, that the Poets of this Age, however short they may be of some of their Predecessors in other matters; yet they much excel them in the Art of Versifying; I mean for easy and Genuine Expression, and smooth composure of their Lines, placing their Words so as may most agree with the usual way of speaking, and not beginning a Period in the middle of one Verse, and ending it in the middle of the next. In which particulars most, if not all the Poets of the last Age were very Faulty and Ungraceful in their Writings. And yet, said Mitis, I remember a Latin Couplet, Witty enough, which I think better expressed in English, above 100 years ago, (as seems by the Measure.) It is a piece of an Epigram relating to a Clock: The Words are these,  

Quis teneat lento fugientia tempora nodo,  
Cum dent & celeres plumhea vincla pedes?   
The rest I have forgot, both of the Latin and English, except only this Conclusion,  

Than who with gentle tye can cause the fleeting time to stay;  
When feet which fettered are with Lead, do post so fast away?   
Here the thought is as full as in the Original, but much more intelligibly expressed to an English Ear, than if he had said, That Leaden Chains give swift Feet, the harshness of the Metaphor being mollified in the Translation. Which is the more observable, added Lisander, in regard the Writers of those times do so very much superabound in uneasy Figures, and hardly any thing was then admitted to be well and Scholarlike penned, unless it were almost all Metaphor, and Catachresis. In the mean time, says Belamy, we forget our Business; the Wine dies, the Glass sleeps, and the Butler grows Pursy for want of Exercise: Away with your Poetry and Poets, the best use we can make of them at present is, in my opinion, to Drink all their Healths from Homer down to Ben. The Extravagancy of such a Proposal made Mitis start, who replied, that to do so would take up more time than he designed to spend in the Country, and he questioned whether Lisander's Cellar could supply them all. Besides, says he, I must be first satisfied by a Divine, whether Drinking a Health to the Deceased be not as Superstitious and Unlawful as to pray for them. Well then, said Belamy, since we must not remember them this way, let us even take a friendly Round or two, and forget 'em. Lisander proposed, as a means to gratify both Parties, the Drinkers, and the Wits, that Mitis and Julio should at this time comply in some reasonable degree with Belamy, and in return, he and all the Rest of the Company should at the next Meeting produce a Specimen of Translated Verse of their own performance, all which should be impartially Examined by the Rest; thereby to discover, if not an Example of good Translation, yet at least how it should be such. What Lisander mentioned was not unpleasing to any; each Man in the Company undertook to perform his part, according to his Talon, both for Drinking and Writing. The Rest of the Evening they Sacrificed to Bacchus, till the Company Parted, all having enough, and some too much.   

SECT. III. Of Translated Verse.  
IT was about a fortnight or three Weeks after, before all those who had undertaken this Exercise of the Muses could meet. At last they happened together at Lisander's: Who after a Noble Treat at Dinner, led his Friends to his favourite Walk in the Bottom of his Park. It was cut out and contrived on the Bank of a most delightsome River, as well stored with all sorts of Fish, as the Swans would permit; the Walk was as Broad, and even as the Mall, and above half as long, but not so straight, it humouring the Meanders of the Stream. The whole length of the Walk was skirted on the one Hand with a Wood continually full of Nightingales, Throstles, Stockdoves, and such Sylvan Music; the outward Branches of which were so Luxuriant, that they spread themselves with little or no intermission, as a Natural Canopy from one end of the Walk to the other. On the other side, opposite to the Wood, ran along a most sweet and clear River, and beyond that lay such a Beauteous Prospect of Meadows, so decked at that time with Primroses, Daisies, and other such like wild Gayities of the forward Spring, as if Nature had defied the most skilful Jeweller to show a pleasanter Enamel. Lisander had contrived on the Wood side of this Walk several Seats and Resting places, but one more especial about the Middle. It was a kind of small Summer House Placed opposite to a Visto that for Eight or Ten Miles forward, cut through all the delightful Objects that fancy can desire in the most pleasing Landscape. Here it was that Lisander having seated the Company, remembered them of the Translated Essays they had all promised; and because he was the Promoter of the Undertaking, himself first began with Repeating these Lines out of the Sixth Book of Virgil's Aeneads.  

Excudent alii spirantia mollius aera;  
Credo equidem, vivos ducant è marmore Vultus.  
Orabunt Causas melius, caelique meatus  
Describent radio, & surgentia sidera dicent.  
Tu regere imperio populos, Roman, memento,  
(Hae tibi erunt arts) pacisque imponere morem  
Parcere Subjectis, & debellare superbos.   
Which, said he, I have ventured to render thus, in English.  

Some may in Sculpture sweeter Touches give,  
And by their Skill make the Cold Marble live:  
Some better may defend their client's 'Cause;  
Some in Astronomy gain more Applause:  
To Rule, O Roman, shall thy Science be;  
These are the Proper Arts of Majesty:  
How in soft Peace their Subjects to dispose,  
And how with Steel to manage Rebel Foes.   
Mitis began to Applaud the Translation, when Lisander cut him short, saying, that he did not propose these Essays for Applause, either to himself or others; but on the contrary to occasion handsome Exceptions, and discoveries not of Beauties, but Defects and Blemishes (which he knows the Company can make) in Order thereby to teach one how to write Correctly. And I am of Opinion, continued he, that no Man can be said truly to write well, unless he can find Fault well. For Faults, like Diseases, when perfectly discovered are half Cured. Hereupon Julio said, I tell you frankly then Lisander, I should not like your Expression in the second Line — Make the cold Marble live— as too bold and extravagant, were it not Justified in the Original by spirantia aera, and Vivos Vultus: But there is a real Fault, or rather Defect in your Translation, for which I can Frame no manner of excuse. You have omitted Parcere Subjectis, which seems to me to be the most material Part of the Character which Virgil here gives of an excellent Prince, or Governor; Mercy and Forbearance are Attributes of the Deity, and nothing can be more Great and Godlike in a Ruler. Therefore Debellare Superbos, and not parcere Subjectis at the same time, as it is but half the Advice of Anchises to Aeneas, (or under that Fiction, of Virgil to Augustus) so it is but half the sense of your Author. Lisander acknowledged the Truth of what Julio said, and thanked him, for expressing his free Thought. Belamy happened to sit next to Lisander, and was therefore as next in Order, requested to produce something or other that he had fancied since the last Meeting. I profess, replied he briskly, I have not of late met any thing more agreeable to my Humour, than an Old Chanson a boire in one of Molier's Comedies.  

Bwons, cheers Amis, buvons,  
Le temps qui fuit nous y convie:  
Profitons de la vie  
Autant que nous pouvons:  
Quand on a passé l'onde noire,  
Adieu le bon Vin, nos amours;  
Depeschons-nous de Boire,  
On ne boit pas toûjours.   

Laisons Raisonner les Sots  
Sur le uray bon heur de la vie;  
Nostre Philosophy  
Le met parmy les Pots:  
Les biens, le Scavoir, & la Gloire,  
N'ostent point les soucis fascheux;  
Et ce n'est qu'a bien boire  
Que l'on peut estre heureux.   
Which I thus English,  

Drink, my Friends, and use your time,  
While easy Life is in its Prime,  
ere our Drinking days are past.  
Sullen Age comes on apace,  
And Death will all our Joys deface:  
Drinking cannot always last.   

Drink, my Friends, while Fools dispute  
Of what is Life's most Happy Fruit;  
All their Arguments are Cheat.  
Fair Estates, and Fame more fair,  
Could never yet extinguish Care;  
Drinking only does the Feat.   
A Chanson a Boire, said Mitis, is of so slight a Nature, that it can hardly afford either matter or words substantial enough to bear an exception; things of this kind are supposed to be writ as it were extempore o'er a Glass of Wine, with little or no Consideration, and therefore have all the Grains of allowance that can possibly be given. And for that reason I cannot in this, though in an other sort of Poem I should disapprove the last Words, does the Feat, as a low and abject Phrase. Yet, said Julio, if a Word be used improperly, or in a sense that it will not bear, it may be justly condemned; for example, in the first Stanza,— Death will all our Joys Deface. Deface is a word that relates properly to Objects of the Sight, as to Deface a Writing, a Monument, a Picture, etc. Now Joys are Notional and may be said to be Defeated, Destroyed, or Determined, but, as I conceive, not properly to be Defaced; no more than to deface one's pleasure, or deface a Jest or fit of Laughter. After all added Lisander, I think his English to be better than the French Original, as including the Author's sense in less Compass, and fewer Idle Words. Here Charleson (for that was the Name of the Old Cavalier formerly mentioned) recited the beginning of that Famous Ode in the 3 d Book of Horace, which, said he, we that suffered in the times of Rebellion and Anarchy, did sometimes use to apply to ourselves, by way of Encouragement.  

Justum & tenacem propositi Virum,  
Non civium ardor prava jubentium,  
Non vultus instantis Tyranni  
Mente quatit solida: neque Auster,  
Dux inquieti turbidus Adriae,  
Nec fulminantis magna Jovis manus.  
Si fractus illabatur Orbis  
Impavidum ferient Ruinae.   
I shall give ye occasion enough of Exception, continued he, when I tell you my English.  

The Just and constant Man is ne'er cast down  
By the Mob's Fury, or a Tyrant's Frown.  
Nor Winds, nor Waves, nor Thunder, can  
Or Shake, or Startle, such a Man;  
Nay should the very Heavens Fall  
And a New Chaos swallow all,  
Well settled in his Mind, he'd stand upright;  
Nor could the Universal Ruin Fright.   
This Translation, said Lisander, has fully and handsomely expressed the Sense of the Latin; but not after the Poetical Phrase of the Author. And tho' Nor Winds, nor Waves, nor Thunder— gives us the true signification and meaning, of Neque Auster Dux turbidus Adriae, nec Jovis Manus— Yet in my Opinion a Translator must not neglect those Figurative ways of speaking; for if so, we should lose the Intelligence of the Old received Fictions, without which we can never perfectly understand all the Beauties of the Latin Poets. I cannot approve, said Julio, of the word Mob, in these Verses, which though significant enough, yet it is a word but of Late Use, and not sufficiently Naturalised to appear in a serious Poem: Besides, I esteem it a kind of Burlesque word, and unsuitable to the Dignity of Horace. There is an other word, said Mitis, which I cannot pass without a Remark; and that is the Particle, Nay, which I know is of Common use in Prose to heighten and aggravate the Subject of Discourse, but I cannot think it graceful in Verse, as a too familiar and slight way of speaking. 'Tis without all question, there are some words which are allowable in Prose, but not in a Poem; such as the word Lad, which the Great Cowley tells in the Notes on his Davideis, is not proper to be Read in an Heroic Poem, and therefore uses the Word Boy instead of it; and yet the word Lad is preferred in the English Translation of the Scriptures, from whence he takes the Argument and Foundation of his Work. After this it came in Course to a Gentleman whose Name I have forgot, to produce his Specimen; he told the Company, that he had lately happened upon a French Epigram of a New and surprising Turn, the manner of the Poets expressing his Design, in the Close, pleased me so well, said he, that I could not forbear trying, how the Thought would show in English. It is an Address to Cardinal Richelieu, formed in such an Air, that in my mind, it is the neatest (or if you will) the gentilest way of begging a great Man's favour, not without something like Reproach for neglect, that ever I met with. The French is this,  

Armand, l'aage afioiblit mes yeux,  
Et tout ma chaleur me quit:  
Je verray bien tost mes ayeux  
Sur le rivage du Cocyte:  
Je seray bientost des suivans  
De ce bon Monarque de France  
Qui fut le Pere des scavans  
En un seicle pleine d'ignorance.  
Lors que j'approcheray de luy,  
Il voudra que Je lui raconte  
Tout ce que tu fais aujourduy  
Pour combler l'Espagne de honte.  
Je contenteray son desir,  
Et par le recit de ta vie  
Je charmeray le déplaisir  
Qu'il receut au Champ de Pavia.  
Mais s'il demande en quel employ  
Tu m'as tenu dedans le monde,  
Et quel bien j'ay receu de toy,  
Que veux-tu que je luy reponde?   
And my English this,  

Old Age gins to call; I soon must go  
To my last home, in the Dark World below,  
Where busy Souls will Crowd some News to know.   

There I shall tell, Armand, of your Renown,  
The Voice of every Country, every Town;  
What Wonders you have done to serve the Crown.   

How Wise, how Great, in every god like Deed,  
How bountiful you are to all that need,  
But most where Learning speaks, or Merits plead.   

When they shall ask, as ten to one some may,  
What you have done for me, tell me I pray,  
Illustrious Sir, what would you have me say?   
Believe me Sir, said Lisander, you have handsomely and well expressed the Authors Turn of Thought in the Conclusion, but I must needs say, you have so little observed the Author's Expressions in all that goes before, that in my Opinion, this cannot properly be called a Translation, but rather some Verses writ in imitation of the French. You have well Paraphrased the Author's meaning in the main; but certainly as a good Translation ought not on the one hand, to be Literal or Verbal without a due Liberty to the property of Expression in our Language; so on the the other, it must not be a mere Paraphrase on the Author's General Design, without any respect to his form of expression. Julio added, that he could wish the word what had not been twice used so close together in the two last Lines, What you have, and what would you, for besides that correct Writers forbear to repeat the same words near the place where they have been used already, (unless the Energy of the sense does absolutely require it) the word what is harsh and unpleasant in the English Tongue, as the word Car in the French; which Monsieur de Gomberville one of those Select Wits who composed the French Academy, rejected as offensive, and fit for a Disputation than a Romance or Poem; and bragged that he had not at all made use of that word in composing the five Volumes of Polexander. After this Mitis produced Mr. Cowleys Epitaph in Westminster Abbey, rendered by him into English.  

Aurea dum uolitant latè tua scripta per orbem  
Et famâ aeternùm vivis, divine Poeta,  
Hic placidâ jaceas requie: Custodiant urnam  
Cana fides; vigilcntque perenni lampade Musae:  
Sit sacer iste locus, nec quis temerarius ausit  
Sacrilega turbare man● venerabile Bustum.  
Intacti maneant, maneant per secula dulcis  
Couleii ●ineres, serventque immobile Saxum.   

Immortal in his Fame, which daily Flies  
About the Globe, here Divine Cowley lies.  
His Urn inviolate all Ages keep:  
Here let the Muses ever Watch, and Weep.  
For ever Holy let this place remain,  
Untrod by Sacrilegious and Profane  
Eternal Peace Sweet Cowley guard; and may  
His Name preserve this Marble from decay.   
Belamy who had been silent a long while, this dry Discourse being insipid to him; could not now forbear observing to Mitis (his Old Antagonist) that in his Opinion he has taken too great a Liberty in the beginning of his Version, the Latin mentioning Cowley in the second Person, which he has varied in the English to the third, contrary (as he thinks) to the Rules of a True and Just Translation. Julio said, that his addition of the Word weep, tho' i● does really improve the sense, yet being placed unluckily at the end of the Line, looks as if it was taken in, only for the Rhyme sake. Lisander observed, that the Conclusion of this Epitaph (especially as Mitis has expressed it in English) has much the like thought with that composed for Michael Drayton whose Monument is very little distant from Mr. Cowley's, and that the sense of their Epitaphs in this particular, is almost as near as their Graves; for thus the Composer of Mr. Drayton's Epitaph is supposed to speak to the Marble that covers him.  

And when thy Ruins shall disclaim  
To be the Treasury of his Name,  
His Name that cannot die shall be  
An Everlasting Monument to thee.   
Here Julio was called upon to produce his Essay of Translation. He said he had lately chopped upon some Latin Verses which he found written before a Burtons' Melancholy, the Author of which Book assumed the Name of Democritus Junior.  

Heraclite fleas, misero sic convenit Aevo,  
Nil nisi triste vides, nil nisi Turpe vides.  
Tu ride quantumque lubet, Democrite, ride,  
Non nisi vana vides, non nisi stulta vides.   

Is fletu, hic risu modo gaudeant, unus utrique  
Sit licet usque Labour, sit licet usque Dolour.  
Nunc opus est (nam totus eheu! jam desipit Orbis)  
Mille Heraclitis, milleque Democritis.  
Nunc opus est (tanta est insania) transeat omnis  
Orbis in Anticyras, gramen in Helleborum   
The Latin pleased me so well, continued Julio, that I tried to turn 'em into English; but so unsuccessfully, that I am ashamed of the Attempt.  

Now Heraclitus, let thy Salt Showers fall;  
Since all you see is sad, and wretched all.  
Now Laugh, Democritus, and burst thy Spleen;  
Nothing but vain, and Ridicule, is seen.  
To both your Passions give their full Careers;  
More than sufficient cause for both appears.  
Th'unhappy Age wants thousands such as you  
To Weep, to Laugh, yet all would be too few  
Th'unhappy Age wants no Provision more  
Than Towns of Bedlams, Fields of Hellebore.   
As Julio had before played the Critic on the several Translations of all the Company, so now every Man thought himself obliged to make some Remark on his. Mitis said, that he had used more figurative Expressions in his English, than the Author had in the Latin, such as let thy Salt Showers fall, instead of Fleas. And that in his Opinion, Figures are less allowable in our Language than in the Roman. Charleson said his Addition, yet all would be too few, admits of the same exception, which himself made but just before to Mitis about the word Weep, and one need only repeat his own Words, [tho' it does somewhat improve the Author's thought, yet being placed unluckily at the end of the Line, it looks as if it were taken in, only for the Rhime's sake] so common a thing is it for a man to trip in the very place where he observed another to stumble. A third said, if those words were not added for the Rhime's sake, yet he fears the word Careers in the Plural was, for I fancy, continued he, had it Rhymed, Career in the singular had been better English: Yet it seems to me to be but an untoward and ill chosen Word, at best. Others made other Observations of less Note, which I have forgot. Julio thanked the Company for the Honour they did him in examining his Verses more closely than the others; but, added he, after all you have not discovered half the Faults. In such like Discourses the time slipped away insensibly; when Lisander having observed the Sun near setting, rise up from his Seat, and ended the Friendly Debate with this Verse of Virgil,  Claudite jam Rivos, Pueri, sat prata biberunt. 
I cannot imagine, said Belamy, how you apply that; for if you design it to us, nothing can be more improper; since we are so far from having drunk enough, that Drink is the only thing that has been wanting. If you love me therefore, let us make all convenient haste back to your house, Lisandey, and redeem the time, for really I have lost an Afternoon strangely. They all smiled, and returned. As they walked Julio acknowledged he began to be tired with the Afternoons Work; whick looked so like Schoolboys producing their Exercise, that he could not choose but remember with a kind of Terror, the Rod and Ferula. True, said Mitis, we were all like Schoolboys in one respect, but we were all Masters in another, since we all judged, Censured, and Corrected. Or as Ovid says of Baucis and Philemon,  — jidem jubentque parentque  

SECT. iv Of Painting and Painters.  
AMong other Visits which Lisander and his two Friends were obliged to repay, one was to Eugenius, a Gentleman whose Seat was about Seven or Eight Miles distant from that of Lisander, Eugenius had Travelled in his younger years, and performed the Grand Tower; after his return into England, he had lived at Court in a very handsome Station, but some years since he had quitted his Office there, and given himself wholly to a Country Retirement. Since when he employed himself much after the Italian Fashion in Building, and imbelishing his House and Gardens. Out of the Ruins of an Old Priory he had erected one of the Neatest Houses in that County for true and Regular Architecture, and Curious Contrivance. It was choicely furnished within, but in no particular more singular and observable than for a Select and valuable Collection of Original Paintings, which he had purchased, at a very considerable expense, in Italy and France. He had always a Great fancy for the Art of Designing, and had been taught something of it when young, which he had extremely improved by the Instructions of the best Masters at Rome. In his later times of Leisure he used the Pencil often, which he called his most pleasing Diversion, and his Idle Hours more Honestly employed than in that which some call business. His Genius inclined him most to Landskip-Painting in which he had a very pretty manner, and almost all that he performed appeared with a free and Noble Gust. Mitis and Julio no sooner approached the House, but they took Notice of some of the Old Ruins, which Eugenius had purposely left standing at a little Distance, esteeming such Marks of Venerable Antiquity, no blemish, but rather Beauty, like the Ruins of Old Rome among the Modern Palaces. One might easily perceive where the Church and Cloister had been, by the Remains of an Old Wall, which looked as if it had Wrestled with an Earthquake; and tho' the Legs, and Arms, and even its very Neck were broken, yet the heart remained still firm and unshaken. Julio who omited no occasion to Magnify the Wit of the Dramatic Poets of the last Age, said, this Object has the Beauty of an old Medal; the Sight is like that of a Good Picture, where all the while a Man views it, his Fancy is still working, and the more he looks, the more he discovers to please him. Nothing can possibly better suit with my Thoughts on this Occasion, than what Antonio says in the Duchess of Malfi, a Tragedy Writ by Webster.  
I do love these Ancient Ruins. We never  
Tread on them, but we set our Foot upon  
Some Reverend History. And questionless  
Here in this open Court, which now lies Naked  
To the Injuries of Stormy weather,  
Some lie interred who loved the Church so well,  
And gave so largely to it, they thought it would  
Have Canopyed their Bones till doomsday:  
But all things have their End. Churches and Cities  
Which have Diseases like to Men, must have  
Like Death as we have.  
Eugenius who had discovered their coming, received them in his outward Court with great Civility. After the usual Compliments were over, Mitis could not forbear to extol the Delicacy of the Situation, protesting that he never beheld a Circle of Prospects, or as the French call it les Environs more agreeable than what Eugenius enjoys from this Seat, which to me (said he) seems the very Centre of Delights. But you will perhaps, said Lisander, be more surprised with Admiration when you enter the House, and see how Artificially Eugenius has contracted the whole Circle into the Centre. Mitis expressed a kind of impatiency to behold so great a Rarity. Eugenius therefore readily conducted the Company into a very fair withdrawing Room, Curiously Wainscoted with Cedar; some Parts of the Cornish and Frames were Gilded; the Panels, which were Large and High, contained so many Landscapes; they were all the several Views about the Lordship, not the least thing omited that was any way Remarkable, and so Artificially placed, that they were posited exactly as the Real places lay, according to the Compass, for the Room was not square, but contrived orbicular, or rather cast into sixteen Angles, the Panels not being Concave, but Flat. Julio admired the Contrivance, and thought he could never sufficiently Applaud both the Design and performance. Mitis, who was himself a Lover, and had some Competent Judgement in the Art, after he had viewed 'em very intently sometime, said, here is one Beauty and Excellent Decorum in these Landscapes, which I believe is not observed by every one that sees them. Tho' they are several Pieces, yet the Shadows of all are so placed, as if they were all seen at the same time of the Day, which makes every Panel, show like a several Window, and the Picture no more than a view in Perspective. You observe Right Sir, said Eugenius, 'twas so intended; for if the shadows had in the several Pictures, been placed more ways than one, and that not answering and agreeing in all, it would have looked as if there had been several Suns shining in one Hemisphere. You may suppose therefore, that you see all these Objects two or three hours after Sun Rise about Midsummer, which I esteem the pleasantest part of the Day, and of the year. But these are Trifles, the next Room will show you something more worth your Sight, hereupon he led them into a Large Gallery Richly Adorned with choice Italian Paintings: There was hardly a Great Name in Italy, but he had there some of his Work, with some of the best of the Flemings, and Plenty of Vandikes Portraits. He had also some Excellent Sculptures of Cavalier Bernini, and our own Mr. Gibbon. Julio protested that the Sight only of this Gallery was richly worth a Journey from London, or from any other, tho' it be the furthest, part of England. Mitis said he was confounded with so many admirable Objects, each having its particular Excellency though in a different Manner of Expression. Lisander begged that Eugenius would favour him with some Rules whereby to judge of the Great Masters, and their several and peculiar Manners. Eugenius' Modestly excused himself, saying, he was but an ill Instructor in an Art which he did not well understand himself; but having been lately reading in a French Author, something which relates to this Question, he will repeat it in Engliish as well as he can. They are, said he,  

The Sentiments of Charles Alphonse Du Fresnoy, on the Works of the Principal and best Painters of the last Ages.  
PAinting was in its Perfection among the Ancient Greeks. The Principal Schools were at Sicyon, and after at Rhodes, Athens, Corinth, and lastly at Rome. War and Luxury having dissipated the Roman Empire, all Curious Arts, all polite Learning, and other Sciences, became extinct. But this began to appear again in the year 1450, among the Florentines, one of whom was Dominico Ghirlandi, Master of Michael Angelo, a Painter of some Considerable Name, tho' his manner was Gothick, and very dry.  
Michael Angelo, his Disciple, appeared in the time of Julius TWO, Leo X, Paul III, and eight succeeding Popes. He was not only a Painter, but a Sculptor, and Architect Civil and Military. The choice which he made of his 
* The Posture and Action that any Figure is represented in.  Attitudes was not always excellent, nor pleasing. His 
† The Relish or Delight Resulting from the whole, also the manner.  Gust in designing cannot be said to be the finest, nor his 
* The Outward Lines.  Contour the most Elegant. His folds of Garments, and Habits, were not very Beautiful nor Gracious.  
He is somewhat Fantastic and extravagant in his Compositions, Rash and Hardy in taking to himself Licence against the Rules of Perspective. His Colouring is not very True nor pleasant. He knew not the Art of 
† The Art of disposing the Lights and Shadows skilfully.  Clair-obscur. He designed, and understood the Connexion of the Bones, the Function, and Situation of the Muscles better than any of the Painters among the Moderns. He expressed a certain Grandeur and Security in his Figures, which took well in many places. But above all he was the greatest Architect that ever we knew of, having excelled even the Ancients themselves. Witness St. Peter's at Rome, St. John's at Florence, the Capitol, the Palace Farnese, and his own House. His Disciples were Marcel Venuste, Andrew de Vattere, le Rosse, George Vasare, Fra Bastian who usually Painted for him, with several other Florentines.  
Peter Perugin, designed with sufficient Intelligence of Nature, but it was Dry and Withered, and after a little Manner. He had for Disciple.  
Raphiel Santio, who was born on Good-Friday in the year 1483, and died on Good-Friday in the year 1520, having lived but 37 years. He has surpassed all the Modern Painters, in having more excellent parts in him all at once, and some think he equalled the Ancients, except in this that he did not design Naked Figures so skilfully as Michael Angelo. But his Gust in designing is much more pure, and finer. His Painting was not so good, so full, and of so Gracious a manner, as that of Corregio; nor had he the Contraste or Opposition of Clair-obscur, and the fierce and clean Colouring of Titian. But without Comparison, he had a better disposition in his Pieces than Titian, Corregio, Michael Angelo, and all other Painters that have ever been since that time. His choice of Attitudes, of Heads, of Ornaments, of his manner of Drapery, his manner of designing, his Varieties, his Contrastes, his Expressions were all perfectly good; but above all the Graces of his Pictures were such as no Man ever came near. His 
* Heads Painted after the Life.  Portraits are very well esteemed. He was an excellent Architect. He was handsome, Tall, Civil and Obliging, never refusing to inform any one in what he knew. He had many Disciples, among others Julio Romano, Polidore, Gaudens, John d'Vdine, and Michael Coxis. His Graver was Marck Antoine, whose Prints are admirable for the Correction of the Contours.  
Julio Romano was the most excellent of all Raphiels Disciples, and had some Conceptions more extraordinary, more profound, and more Majestic than his Master. He was also a great Architect; of a Gust Pure and Neat; a great imitator of the Ancients, discovering in all his Works his desire to restore the Old Fotms and Fabrics of past Ages, to the Modern Practice. He had the good fortune to have persons of great Quality who relied wholly upon him for Buildings, 
* Terms in Architecture, relating to several forms of Building.  Vestibules, Tetrastile Porticoes, Xistes, theatres, and such other Places, not now in use. He had a Wonderful Judgement in the Election of Attitudes. His manner was the Hardest and driest of all the School of Raphael; he did not very well understand the Clair-obscur, and way of Colouring. He is stiff and ungraceful in many places. The folds of his Draperies are neither Beautiful, nor Great, nor Easie, not Natural, but all Fantastic and which resemble something the Habits of ill Comedians. He was very intelligent in all polite Learning. His Disciples were Pirro Ligorio, admirable for antique Buildings, Towns, Temples, Tombs, Trophies, and the Situation of all Old Structures, Aeneas Vico, Bonasone, George Mantuan and others.  
Polidore, a Disciple of Raphael's, was Wonderful excellent at designing Pratique, having a peculiar Genius for Frises, as appears by those he Painted at Rome in Black and White. He imitated the 
* the Ancient Paintings and Sculpture.  Antique, in a greater manner than Julio Romano, but Julio seems to be truest. One may see in his Works, some admirable 
† A Knot or amazement of Figures standing together.  Groupes such as are not to be seen elsewhere. His Colouring was extremely Rare, and he has done some Landscapes of a good Gust.  
At Venice, John Bellin was one of the first that was taken Notice of, his Painting was extreme dry after the manner of that Age. He very well understood Architecture and Perspective. He was Titians first Master, as one may perceive by the first Works of that Illustrious Disciple of his, in which is seen a property of Colours such as his Master used.  
About the same time Georgion, cotemporary with Titian, became excellent for Portraits and Great Pieces. This was he who first took up the Election of Colours fierce and agreeable, which was after brought to perfection and the entire Harmony which appears in Titians' Pictures. He set off his Figures extremely well; and one may say, that had it not been for him, Titian had never rise to the degree of Excellency, for it was caused chief by the Emulation and Jealousy that was betwixt these two.  
Titian was one of the greatest Colourists that ever was in the World. He designed with much more facility and experience than Georgion. The Women and Children of his hand are admirable for design and Colour, the Gust being Delicate, Neat and Noble, with a kind of pleasing Negligence in the Dress, in the Draperies, and Furniture, peculiar to him. His Figures of Men are such as nothing can be better designed; however there are some of his Draperies that are somewhat sad, and of little Gust. His Painting is extreme fierce, sweet, and precious. His Portraits were Wonderfully Beautiful, his Attitudes extreme handsome, grave, varied, and adorned after a most advantageous manner. Never Man wrought Landscapes of so great a manner, of so good a Colouring, and expressing so much Truth. For the space of eight or ten years together, he copied with great exactness all that he did, to gain to himself a more easy Road, and to establish himself in the general Maxims. Besides that excellent Gust in Colouring, which he had above others, he perfectly understood how to give every thing its proper touches, whereby they are distinguished from one another, and which gives 'em more Spirit and Life. The Pictures which he made at his beginning, and towards his latter end, are of a dry and lean manner. He lived 101 years; and had for his Disciples Paul Veronese, James Tintoret, James Dupout, Bassan and his Brothers.  
Paul Veronese expressed an extreme Grace in the Airs of Women, with great diversity of changeable Drapeperies, and incredible vivacity and facility, notwithstanding his Composition was Barbarous, and his design not correct; but the Colouring and all that depends thereon, was so admirable in his Pictures, that it surprised at first sight, and caused all other Faults to be forgot.  
Tintoret, a Disciple of Titian; he was a great Designer and 
* An Artist of a ready and expert Practice.  Praticien, and sometimes a great 
† One whose drawings are strained, and extravagant.  Strapasson; he had an admirable Genius for Painting, but his Affection and Patience was not equal to his Fire and vivacity. He has made some Pictures of no less Beauty than those of Titian. His Composition and his Dress are Barbarous for the most part, and his Contours are not very Correct; but his Colouring and all that depends on that is admirable.  
The Bassans had a poorer and more miserable Gust in Painting than Tintoret, and designed worse than he. But they had an excellent Gust in Colours, and touched up, or expressed Animals after a very good Manner, yet their Composition and design was very Barbarous.  
At Parma, Corregio Painted two Great Cupulo's in 
* A sort of Painting upon outward Walls.  Fresquo, and several Altar Pieces. He had certain natural Graces, peculiar to himself, for all his Pictures of the Blessed Virgin, the Saints, and young Children. His manner is extreme great, as well for design, as for Workmanship, though without Correction. His Pencil is one of the most agreeable and easy, and one may say of him, that he Painted with such a force, such a relief, and such a sweetness and vivacity of Colours, that he could do nothing better. He distributed his Lights after a particular manner, such as gave a great force and roundness to his Figures. It consisted in extending his Lights to be large, and then losing them insensibly in the dark Colours without the 
* The Masses are the strongest Lights, and Shadows.  Masses, which gave them a great Roundness, without our perceiving from whence such force and such satisfaction to the Eye, should proceed; and in this particular he seems to be followed by other Lombard's. He had not the Election of handsome Attitudes, nor the distribution of comely Groups. His design often appears Lame, and his positions are not much observed. The Aspects of his Figures are not unpleasant in many places: But his manner of designing the Heads, the Hands, the Feet, and other parts, is very great and good to imitate. In the Conduct and finishing a Picture, he did Miracles; for he Painted with such Union, that his greatest Works, seemed to be the Product but of one day, and appeared as if seen in a Looking glass. His Landscapes were handsome, and correspondent to his Figures.  
At the same time lived Parmigano, who besides his great Manner in good Colouring, was excellent for Invention and Design; he had a Genius full of Gentileness and Spirit, having nothing of Barbarous in his Choice of Attitudes, and in the Dress of his Figures, which cannot be said of Corregio. There are very handsome things and very correct of his.  
These two Painters had very good Disciples, but none but those of that Country know who they were; however we are not well assured of what they say, for Painting is there utterly extinct.  
I say nothing of Leonard de Vinci, because I have seen but very few things of his doing; tho' he revived these Arts at Milan, and made many Disciples.  
Lewis Carache Uncle of Hannibal, and Brother of Antonio, studied at Parma after Corregio, and became excellent in design and colouring, which he performed with such Grace and Candour, that Guido a Disciple of Hannibal, did afterwards imitate him with much success. There are of his Pictures very Beautiful and well managed. His ordinary residence was at Bologna; and it was he that first taught his Nephew Hannibal to use the Crayon.  
Annibal quickly out went his Master in all particulars. He counterfeited Corregio, Titian, and Raphael's manner in different Pictures, excepting that they want the Nobleness, the Grace, and the Delicacy of Raphael, and that his Cantours are not so Pure and so Elegant. For the rest he was very accomplished, and very Universal. His manner of designing is great and excellent. Expressing what he knew with an admirable Genius.  
Augustin, Brother of Annibal was also a good Painter, and a most excellent Graver. He had a Bastard Son Named Antonio, who died at the Age of 23 or 24 years, who as 'tis thought, would certainly have surpassed his Uncle, Annibal, for it seemed, from what we see of his, that he would have taken a greater Flight.  
Guido imitated chief Lewis Carache, and always retained the same fashion of Painting with Laurence the Fleming, his Master, who dwelled at Bologna, and was Contemporary and an Emulatour of the said Lewis. Guido made use of Albert Durer as Virgil did of the Poet Ennius, and this he turned into his own manner with such Grace and Beauty, that he alone got more Money, and obtained more Reputation in his time, than his Masters, and than all the Disciples of the School of the Caraches, tho' more capable han the. His Heads are no ways inferior to those of Raphiel.  
Sisto Badalocchi designed better than the other Disciples; but he died young.  
Albano was excellent in all the parts of Painting, and was skilled in the Bell's Lettreses, or polite Learning.  
Dominicano was a very skilful Painter, and very painful, being not otherwise advantaged by Nature. He was very profound in all that depends on Painting; however he seems to have less Majesty than all the other Disciples of the Caraches.  
John Lanfranc was of great Spirit and Vivacity, and continued long in an excellent Gust of Design and Colour, but having no Foundation but the Practic, he quickly became liable to Correction, in such sort that we see many of his things very 
* Strained and extravagant.  Strapassées where there was no occasion for it. For the rest of those Disciples, after the Death of their Master, they all grew worse and worse in every particular of Painting.  
Viola begun to make Landscapes when he was very Old. Hannibal took a delight to instruct him, and we may see several Pieces of his Work wonderfully handsome, and well coloured.  
In Germany and the Low Countries Albert Durer, Lucas, Aldegrave, Isbin, and Holbin, were all of the same time. Among whom Albert, and Holbin, were very skilful, and had been of the first Rank had they seen Italy, for we can blame them for nothing but their Gothick Gust, and chief Albert. As for Holbin, he carried the Execution beyond Raphael, and I have seen a Portrait of his that put down one of Titians.  
Among the Flemings, we have had Rubens, a Man to whom his Birth gave a Lively Wit, Free, Sweet, and Universal; he had a Genius capable to raise him not only to the Rank of the Ancient Painters, but also to the greatest Employments, and accordingly he was made choice of to go on one of the most famous Embassies that has been in our Age. His Gust for design did Taste more of the natural Fleming than of the Beauty of the Antique, for he had been but a little time at Rome. Tho' we may observe in all his Works, a Grandeur, and Majesty, yet one may say truly, that generally speaking, he did not design well, but for the other parts of Painting he understood and possessed as much as ever Painter did. His principal Study was made in Lombardy, and particularly after the Works of Titian, Paul Veronese, and Tintoret from all which, (as one may say) he skimed away the Cream, to gether for his own use certain general Maxims and infallible Rules, which he always observed, and by which he performed his Works with more facility than Titian, more Purity, Truth and Science, than Paul Veronese, and more Majesty, Repose, and Moderation than Tintoret. In fine, his manner was so firm, so skilful, and so prompt, that it seemed as if his Rare Genius was sent on purpose from Heaven, to teach Mankind the Art of Painting.  
His School was filled with many good Disciples, among whom Vandike best understood the Rules and General Maxims of his Master, and did even surpass him in the Delicacy of his Carnations (or Flesh Colours) and in his Cabinet Pieces; but he had as ill a Gust as him, in that Part which relates to Design.    

SECT. V Of Poets and Poetry.  
AFter Eugenius had thus finished his (or rather Monsieur Fresnoy's) Discourse of the Famous Italian Painters, the Company fell into familiar Chat, such as produced nothing Remarkable; till the approach of Night caused the Visitants to think of home. Mitis made Eugenius a very gentile Compliment at parting, and Julio professed, that tho' his Entertainment was in all particulars extreme Noble and Obliging, yet nothing had more surprised him with Delight, than the Sight of his Excellent Collection of Pictures. As they returned, Mitis began a Discourse which lasted all the way, near two hours. He said it may be a Question which is the most Delightsom Painting or Poetry? Understand me, where both are good and in perfection; for the little common Dawbings are no more to be valued in one, than the Street Ballads and dispicable Rhimes of the other. Whichsoever occasions the greatest Pleasures (said Julio) I will not determine; for that may arise chief from the apprehension, or different Genius of the Party who views the Picture, or reads the Poem: But I am apt to believe that Poetry is more useful to humane Life, by Reason of its Moral Precepts and Instructions, such as cannot arise from a Dumb Painting. As Dumb as the Painting is, said Lisander. Pictures are thought to be of great use, even by the way of Direction and Information, beyond Sea; and therefore they are so frequently placed in Churches there, to heighten the Affections and advance Devotion. 'Tis true, this has been thought Superstitious here in our Country, and therefore Pictures have been with us Excommunicated or Expelled the Church, and certain Texts of Scripture Writ up and down on the Walls, instead of them; and yet some People think this to be of as little use, and less Ornament than the other; for say they, in Country Churches, where it is most Practised, many (if not most) of the Parish cannot Read, whereas every Body understands the meaning of a Picture, which indeed speaks all Languages: And for that Reason they have been, not improperly, called, The laymen's Books. But to wave this Comparison of Painting and Poetry, which has been allowed in all Ages since Old Horace said,  
— Pictoribus atque Poetis  
Quidlibet audendi semper fuit aequa potestas.  
There is one Point of Disparity between 'em, in the true Cause of which I would gladly be satisfied. And that is, why Poetry and Poverty are counted inseparable Companions, and that for a Man to have a Poetical Genius is thought fatal, that he is thereby half Ruined, and in the ready way to Beggary? Whereas for a Painter to have an apt and ready Genius in his Science, is counted a good Omen, and assures us that in time he will be a great Master, and raise an Estate. Julio after a little pause, answered to this purpose. 'Tis very true, that those who addict themselves to Poetry, especially such who make it their whole business, have been generally observed to be little beholding to Fortune, or in plain English, poor and indigent; one Reason may be, that they are Men of Generous Souls, above their Fortunes, and live according to the Ideas and Notions they Read and Writ of; which tho' commendable in Poems and Romances, yet are not practicable here, without a plentiful Revenue, and almost Inexhaustible Fund. Besides, they Love quiet, as most agreeable to their Studies, while those who Raise Estates are your Intreaguers, Men of Business, and such as live in a continual Hurry. Add to this, that being Men of Witty and Delightsom Conversation, their Company is desired by almost all, and those of Fortunes and Expenses greater than they in Prudence can Cope with; which insensibly decays that little Estate which they have. An other Reason may be that they aspire no higher than a handsome subsistence for the present, and leave the future to Providence that disposes all things; in which particular they are better Christians and Philosophers, than Husbands and Parents. After all, perhaps this Character of Poverty is not only appliable to Poets, but in some (if not equal) Degree, to all other Scholars, who being Masters of Little or nothing besides their Learning, they are compelled (after the Example of all Ages) to apply themselves to Great Men; some of whom, whose Estates have overgrown their Wit and Humanity, think themselves importuned with their Addresses, and therefore speak more disgracefully of them than they deserve. These are the Reverse of a M●cenas; they have have his Riches, but Souls below a Plebeian. They look upon a Poet, or Poor Scholar, with a Present or Dedication, as a kind of Robber, for tho' He does not take their Purse like your Highwayman, yet he forces their Will, and they part with what Custom obliges them to return, (if they make any) merely to avoid the Dishonour, as unwillingly and with as ill a Face, as if they heard Stand and Deliver. For this Reason, said Mitis, I would have (if possible) no Poets but such only who have Estates of Inheritance Large and sufficient to guard them both from the Insults of the World, and Cares of subsisting. 'Tis true, there have been several among the Romans, and in our Age, who have been as Eminent for their Excellent Genius this way, as for their Quality. But for the most part, the Great Men and the Poets are not to be United; for they are Born Rich, and these are born Poets. But where some of those to raise their Estates (which are already made to their hands) they might, perhaps, live as poor as these. There is certainly more required to getting Riches, than Learning and Science: There is much of Luck, and something of Trick (the Citizens call it Mystery) that are necessary Concomitants. What else makes the Hypocrite more plausible than the Good Christian, an Empirick Richer than a Learned Doctor? And I have heard of a Fellow in the Country, who could not Write, nor (hardly) read, and yet got a great Estate by pretending to the Law. In these Lucky pretences, these Tricks and Mysteries, or what ever you call 'em, it seems the Poets are Ignorant: There is still one other Reason for a Poet's Poverty; those who addict themselves to other Studies, find great encouragement from public Provisions. The Divine has his Live, Promotions, and Dignities. Those of the Law have abundance of Offices of mighty profit; and the Physicians, settled Salaries from Hospitals and other endowments. But the Poet (as such) hath no Office or Place of Preferment belonging to his Profession, that I know of, except one; and that too, consist● chief in Reputation, and a Pipe o● Canary. This starts an other occasion of their impoverishment; they have been generally devoted to the Bottle; they fancy inspiration from Wine; and I never heard of any who raised an Estate, but thousands who consumed it, by Drinking. You have given Reasons more than enough, said Lisander, to justify the common Notion of Poets. I perceive that Verses and Poems are pretty Toys to play with, but the worst Tools for a Trade that ever were invented. 'Tis well some of our Poets have other ways of subsisting, else I know not how they would do to live in this World, unless they could Restore the Golden Age (their beloved Theme) in which bountiful Nature supplied all things to every one, and none wanted any thing. And among other Arts, which have interfered with Poesy, I have observed in a more especial manner, that of Painting to be one; as if the two Sister Sciences delighted to live together in the same Person. You seldom knew a Poet but he was a Lover of Pictures, nor a Painter who had not the like Affection for Poems and Music (which is really an inarticulate Poesy). Some persons have attained to a great perfection in both these Arts; such was Leonardo da Vinci; I could Name other Italians, and several of our own Nation; But 'tis sufficient to instance only in one. A young Lady of Eminent Virtue and Beauty, was when she lived (which was not many years since) incomparable for her performances both with the Pen and Pencil. I mean Mrs. Ann Killigrew, whose Picture drawn by herself, is Printed before her Book of Poems, published soon after her Death. A Gentleman of our Acquaintance, tho' he had never seen her when living, fell really in love with her Memory, and on the first view of her Picture and Poems, composed some Verses which I think I can still remember.  

Often have I Conquered been  
With the Beauties I have seen;  
Often have uncommon Faces  
Pleased and Wounded with their Graces:  
But till this Hour I never found  
That the Fair Sex unseen can Wound:  
Till now I never was a Slave  
To Charms and Beauties in a Grave:   

Nor time can cure, nor Hope can ease my Care,  
At once I see, Love, and despair.  
Ah sweet Remains of that Lamented Maid!  
Ah Lovely Shadow of a Shade!  
Where's now the Hand which this fair Image drew?  
Where's that we miss even when we view?  
Where is that Noble Fancy could design  
A Face, and Verse, both so Divine?  
Where is that Face that did all Art defy,  
That Art that Nature did outvie?  
Where in the Sex shall we her Virtue find?  
And where her Wit in all Mankind?   

Absurd Inquiries! Can such Beauty die,  
Such Wit be subject to Mortality?  
Can such Accomplishments as hers create  
Less than a Miracle, and Conquer Fate?  
See profane Infidel, see here, and find  
In this Eternal Monument enshrined,  
Her very self; her Wit, her Face, and Mind.   
This seems, indeed, to be Writ with as great Affection as Encomium, and more Love than Art. But you know Philaster, he is the Author. I did imagine, said Mitis, it must be he; He is himself a pretender to both these Arts: And that with as much Success as he desires, since he never made either of them his Business, but Diversion.  
With this and such like Discourse, the Way and the Time passed off, when they found themselves arrived at their Journeys End, and that the Daylight had determined, and the Sun Resigned his Office to his Sister almost an hour before, which they never minded.   
FINIS.