[_By_ WILLIAM GODWIN]
The following performance, as the title imports, was originally
composed in the Welch language. Its style is elegant and pure. And if
the translator has not, as many of his brethren have done, suffered the
spirit of the original totally to evaporate, he apprehends it will be
found to contain much novelty of conception, much classical taste, and
great spirit and beauty in the execution. It appears under the name of
Cadwallo, an ancient bard, who probably lived at least one hundred
years before the commencement of our common era. The manners of the
primitive times seem to be perfectly understood by the author, and are
described with the air of a man who was in the utmost degree familiar
with them. It is impossible to discover in any part of it the slightest
trace of Christianity. And we believe it will not be disputed, that in
a country so pious as that of Wales, it would have been next to
impossible for the poet, though ever so much upon his guard, to avoid
all allusion to the system of revelation. On the contrary, every thing
is Pagan, and in perfect conformity with the theology we are taught to
believe prevailed at that time.
These reasons had induced us to admit, for a long time, that it was
perfectly genuine, and justly ascribed to the amiable Druid. With
respect to the difficulty in regard to the preservation of so long a
work for many centuries by the mere force of memory, the translator,
together with the rest of the world, had already got over that
objection in the case of the celebrated Poems of Ossian. And if he be
not blinded by that partiality, which the midwife is apt to conceive
for the productions, that she is the instrument of bringing into the
world, the Pastoral Romance contains as much originality, as much
poetical beauty, and is as happily calculated to make a deep impression
upon the memory, as either Fingal, or Temora.
The first thing that led us to doubt its authenticity, was the striking
resemblance that appears between the plan of the work, and Milton’s
celebrated Masque at Ludlow Castle. We do not mean however to hold
forth this circumstance as decisive in its condemnation. The
pretensions of Cadwallo, or whoever was the author of the performance,
are very high to originality. If the date of the Romance be previous to
that of Comus, it may be truly said of the author, that he soared above
all imitation, and derived his merits from the inexhaustible source of
his own invention. But Milton, it is well known, proposed some
classical model to himself in all his productions. The Paradise Lost is
almost in every page an imitation of Virgil, or Homer. The Lycidas
treads closely in the steps of the Daphnis and Gallus of Virgil. The
Sampson Agonistes is formed upon the model of Sophocles. Even the
little pieces, L’Allegro and Il Penseroso have their source in a song
of Fletcher, and two beautiful little ballads that are ascribed to
Shakespeare. But the classical model upon which Comus was formed has
not yet been discovered. It is infinitely unlike the Pastoral Comedies
both of Italy and England. And if we could allow ourselves in that
licence of conjecture, which is become almost inseparable from the
character of an editor, we should say: That Milton having written it
upon the borders of Wales, might have had easy recourse to the
manuscript whose contents are now first given to the public: And that
the singularity of preserving the name of the place where it was first
performed in the title of his poem, was intended for an ingenuous and
well-bred acknowledgement of the source from whence he drew his
choicest materials.
But notwithstanding the plausibility of these conjectures, we are now
inclined to give up our original opinion, and to ascribe the
performance to a gentleman of Wales, who lived so late as the reign of
king William the third. The name of this amiable person was Rice ap
Thomas. The romance was certainly at one time in his custody, and was
handed down as a valuable legacy to his descendants, among whom the
present translator has the honour to rank himself. Rice ap Thomas,
Esquire, was a man of a most sweet and inoffensive disposition, beloved
and respected by all his neighbours and tenants, and “passing rich with
‘sixty’ pounds a year.” In his domestic he was elegant, hospitable, and
even sumptuous, for the time and country in which he lived. He was
however naturally of an abstemious and recluse disposition. He abounded
in singularities, which were pardoned to his harmlessness and his
virtues; and his temper was full of sensibility, seriousness, and
melancholy. He devoted the greater part of his time to study; and he
boasted that he had almost a complete collection of the manuscript
remains of our Welch bards. He was often heard to prefer even to
Taliessin, Merlin, and Aneurim, the effusions of the immortal Cadwallo,
and indeed this was the only subject upon which he was ever known to
dispute with eagerness and fervour. In the midst of the controversy, he
would frequently produce passages from the Pastoral Romance, as
decisive of the question. And to confess the truth, I know not how to
excuse this piece of jockeyship and ill faith, even in Rice ap Thomas,
whom I regard as the father of my family, and the chief ornament of my
beloved country.
Some readers will probably however be inclined to apologise for the
conduct of Mr. Thomas, and to lay an equivalent blame to my charge.
They will tell me, that nothing but the weakest partiality could blind
me to the genuine air of antiquity with which the composition is every
where impressed, and to ascribe it to a modern writer. But I am
conscious to my honesty and defy their malice. So far from being
sensible of any improper bias in favour of my ancestor, I am content to
strengthen their hands, by acknowledging that the manuscript, which I
am not at all desirous of refusing to their inspection, is richly
emblazoned with all the discoloration and rust they can possibly
desire. I confess that the wording has the purity of Taliessin, and the
expressiveness of Aneurim, and is such as I know of no modern Welchman
who could write. And yet, in spite as they will probably tell me of
evidence and common sense, I still aver my persuasion, that it is the
production of Rice ap Thomas.
But enough, and perhaps too much, for the question of its antiquity. It
would be unfair to send it into the world without saying something of
the nature of its composition. It is unlike the Arcadia of sir Philip
Sidney, and unlike, what I have just taken the trouble of running over,
the Daphnis of Gessner. It neither on the one hand leaves behind it the
laws of criticism, and mixes together the different stages of
civilization; nor on the other will it perhaps be found frigid,
uninteresting, and insipid. The prevailing opinion of Pastoral seems to
have been, that it is a species of composition admirably fitted for the
size of an eclogue, but that either its nature will not be preserved,
or its simplicity will become surfeiting in a longer performance. And
accordingly, the Pastoral Dramas of Tasso, Guarini, and Fletcher,
however they may have been commended by the critics, and admired by
that credulous train who clap and stare whenever they are bid, have
when the recommendation of novelty has subsided been little attended to
and little read. But the great Milton has proved that this objection is
not insuperable. His Comus is a master-piece of poetical composition.
It is at least equal in its kind even to the Paradise Lost. It is
interesting, descriptive and pathetic. Its fame is continually
increasing, and it will be admired wherever the name of Britain is
repeated, and the language of Britain is understood.
If our hypothesis respecting the date of the present performance is
admitted, it must be acknowleged that the ingenious Mr. Thomas has
taken the Masque of Milton for a model; and the reader with whom Comus
is a favourite, will certainly trace some literal imitations. With
respect to any objections that may be made on this score to the
Pastoral Romance, we will beg the reader to bear in mind, that the
volumes before him are not an original, but a translation. Recollecting
this, we may, beside the authority of Milton himself, and others as
great poets as ever existed who have imitated Homer and one another at
least as much as our author has done Comus, suggest two very weighty
apologies. In the first place, imitation in a certain degree, has ever
been considered as lawful when made from a different language: And in
the second, these imitations come to the reader exaggerated, by being
presented to him in English, and by a person who confesses, that he has
long been conversant with our greatest poets. The translator has always
admired Comus as much as the Pastoral Romance; he has read them
together, and been used to consider them as illustrating each other.
Any verbal coincidences into which he may have fallen, are therefore to
be ascribed where they are due, to him, and not to the author. And upon
the whole, let the imperfections of the Pastoral Romance be what they
will, he trusts he shall be regarded as making a valuable present to
the connoisseurs and the men of taste, and an agreeable addition to the
innocent amusements of the less laborious classes of the polite world.