encouragement of good letters and the ornament of poetry, which cannot be
wished more earnestly by any man than by
Your Lordship’s most humble,
Most obliged and most
Obedient servant,
JOHN DRYDEN.
POSTSCRIPT.
WHAT Virgil wrote in the vigour of his age (in plenty and at ease) I have
undertaken to translate in my declining years; struggling with wants,
oppressed by sickness, curbed in my genius, liable to be misconstrued in
all I write; and my judges, if they are not very equitable, already
prejudiced against me by the lying character which has been given them of
my morals. Yet steady to my principles, and not dispirited with my
afflictions, I have, by the blessing of God on my endeavours, overcome
all difficulties; and, in some measure, acquitted myself of the debt
which I owed the public when I undertook this work. In the first place,
therefore, I thankfully acknowledge to the Almighty Power the assistance
He has given me in the beginning, the prosecution, and conclusion of my
present studies, which are more happily performed than I could have
promised to myself when I laboured under such discouragements. For what
I have done, imperfect as it is for want of health and leisure to correct
it, will be judged in after-ages, and possibly in the present, to be no
dishonour to my native country, whose language and poetry would be more
esteemed abroad if they were better understood. Somewhat (give me leave
to say) I have added to both of them in the choice of words and harmony
of numbers, which were wanting, especially the last, in all our poets;
even in those who being endued with genius yet have not cultivated their
mother-tongue with sufficient care, or, relying on the beauty of their
thoughts, have judged the ornament of words and sweetness of sound
unnecessary. One is for raking in Chaucer (our English Ennius) for
antiquated words, which are never to be revived but when sound or
significancy is wanting in the present language. But many of his deserve
not this redemption any more than the crowds of men who daily die, or are
slain for sixpence in a battle, merit to be restored to life if a wish
could revive them. Others have no ear for verse, nor choice of words,
nor distinction of thoughts, but mingle farthings with their gold to make
up the sum. Here is a field of satire opened to me, but since the
Revolution I have wholly renounced that talent. For who would give
physic to the great, when he is uncalled, to do his patient no good and
endanger himself for his prescription? Neither am I ignorant but I may
justly be condemned for many of these faults of which I have too
liberally arraigned others:
“_Cynthius aurem_
_Vellit_, _et admonuit_.”
It is enough for me if the government will let me pass unquestioned. In
the meantime I am obliged in gratitude to return my thanks to many of
them, who have not only distinguished me from others of the same party by
a particular exception of grace, but without considering the man have
been bountiful to the poet, have encouraged Virgil to speak such English
as I could teach him, and rewarded his interpreter for the pains he has
taken in bringing him over into Britain by defraying the charges of his
voyage. Even Cerberus, when he had received the sop, permitted Æneas to
pass freely to Elysium. Had it been offered me and I had refused it, yet
still some gratitude is due to such who were willing to oblige me. But
how much more to those from whom I have received the favours which they
have offered to one of a different persuasion; amongst whom I cannot omit
naming the Earls of Derby and of Peterborough. To the first of these I
have not the honour to be known, and therefore his liberality [was] as
much unexpected as it was undeserved. The present Earl of Peterborough
has been pleased long since to accept the tenders of my service: his
favours are so frequent to me that I receive them almost by prescription.
No difference of interests or opinion has been able to withdraw his
protection from me, and I might justly be condemned for the most
unthankful of mankind if I did not always preserve for him a most
profound respect and inviolable gratitude. I must also add that if the
last Æneid shine amongst its fellows, it is owing to the commands of Sir
William Trumbull, one of the principal Secretaries of State, who
recommended it, as his favourite, to my care; and for his sake
particularly I have made it mine. For who would confess weariness when
he enjoined a fresh labour? I could not but invoke the assistance of a
muse for this last office:—
“_Extremum hunc_, _Arethusa_; . . .
. . . _neget quis carmina Gallo_?”
Neither am I to forget the noble present which was made me by Gilbert
Dolben, Esq., the worthy son of the late Archbishop of York, who (when I
began this work) enriched me with all the several editions of Virgil and
all the commentaries of those editions in Latin, amongst which I could
not but prefer the Dauphin’s as the last, the shortest, and the most
judicious. Fabrini I had also sent me from Italy, but either he
understands Virgil very imperfectly or I have no knowledge of my author.
Being invited by that worthy gentleman, Sir William Bowyer, to Denham
Court, I translated the first Georgic at his house and the greatest part
of the last Æneid. A more friendly entertainment no man ever found. No
wonder, therefore, if both these versions surpass the rest; and own the
satisfaction I received in his converse, with whom I had the honour to be
bred in Cambridge, and in the same college. The seventh Æneid was made
English at Burghley, the magnificent abode of the Earl of Exeter. In a
village belonging to his family I was born, and under his roof I
endeavoured to make that Æneid appear in English with as much lustre as I
could, though my author has not given the finishing strokes either to it
or to the eleventh, as I perhaps could prove in both if I durst presume
to criticise my master.
By a letter from William Walsh, Esq., of Abberley (who has so long
honoured me with his friendship, and who, without flattery, is the best
critic of our nation), I have been informed that his Grace the Duke of
Shrewsbury has procured a printed copy of the Pastorals, Georgics, and
six first Æneids from my bookseller, and has read them in the country
together with my friend. This noble person (having been pleased to give
them a commendation which I presume not to insert) has made me vain
enough to boast of so great a favour, and to think I have succeeded
beyond my hopes; the character of his excellent judgment, the acuteness
of his wit, and his general knowledge of good letters, being known as
well to all the world as the sweetness of his disposition, his humanity,
his easiness of access, and desire of obliging those who stand in need of
his protection are known to all who have approached him, and to me in
particular, who have formerly had the honour of his conversation.
Whoever has given the world the translation of part of the third Georgic
(which he calls “The Power of Love”) has put me to sufficient pains to
make my own not inferior to his; as my Lord Roscommon’s “Silenus” had
formerly given me the same trouble. The most ingenious Mr. Addison, of
Oxford, has also been as troublesome to me as the other two, and on the
same account; after his bees my latter swarm is scarcely worth the
hiving. Mr. Cowley’s praise of a country life is excellent, but it is
rather an imitation of Virgil than a version. That I have recovered in
some measure the health which I had lost by too much application to this
work, is owing (next to God’s mercy) to the skill and care of Dr.
Guibbons and Dr. Hobbs (the two ornaments of their profession), whom I
can only pay by this acknowledgment. The whole faculty has always been
ready to oblige me, and the only one of them who endeavoured to defame me
had it not in his power. I desire pardon from my readers for saying so
much in relation to myself which concerns not them; and with my
acknowledgments to all my subscribers, have only to add that the few
notes which follow are _par manière d’acquit_, because I had obliged
myself by articles to do somewhat of that kind. These scattering
observations are rather guesses at my author’s meaning in some passages
than proofs that so he meant. The unlearned may have recourse to any
poetical dictionary in English for the names of persons, places, or
fables, which the learned need not, but that little which I say is either
new or necessary, and the first of these qualifications never fails to
invite a reader, if not to please him.