Ye pow'rs! whose mysteries restor❜d I sing. 10 Now flam'd the dog-star's unpropitious ray, Smote ev'ry brain, and wither'd ev'ry bay; Sick was the sun, the owl forsook his bower, The moon-struck prophet felt the madding hour: Then rose the seed of Chaos and of Night, To blot out order, and extinguish light, Of dull and venal a new world to mould, And bring Saturnian days of lead and gold. She mounts the throne: her head a cloud conceal'd, In broad effulgence all below reveal'd (Tis thus aspiring Dulness ever shines), Soft on her lap her laureate son reclines. REMARKS. 20 Ver. 14. To blot out order, and extinguish light,] The two great ends of her mission; the one in quality of daughter of Chaos, the other as daughter of Night. Order here is to be understood extensively, both as civil and moral; the distinction be tween high and low in society, and true and false in individuals: light as intellectual only, wit, science, arts. Ver. 15. Of dull and venal] The allegory continued; dull referring to the extinction of light or science; venal to the destruction of order, and the truth of things. Ibid. A new world] In allusion to the Epicurean opinion, that from the dissolution of the natural world into Night and Chaos, a new one should arise; this the poet alluding to, in the production of a new moral world, makes it partake of its original princi. ples. Ver. 16. Lead and gold.] i. e. dull and venal. Ver. 20. her laureate son reclines.] With great judgement it is imagined by the poet, that such a Beneath her footstool, science groans in chains, And wit dreads exile, penalties, and pains. colleague as Dulness had elected, should sleep on the throne, and have very little share in the action of the poem. Accordingly he hath done little or nothing from the day of his anointing; having past through the second book without taking part in any thing that was transacted about him; and through the third in profound sleep. Nor ought this, well considered, to seem strange in our days, when so many king-consorts have done the like. SCRIBL. This verse our excellent laureate took so to heart, that he appealed to all mankind, if he was not as seldom asleep as any fool!' But it is hoped the poet hath not injured him, but rather verified his prophecy (p. 243 of his own Life, 8vo. ch. ix.) where he says, 'the reader will be as much pleased to find me a dunce in my old age, as he was to prove me a brisk blockhead in my youth.' Wherever there was any room for briskness, or alacrity of any sort, even in sinking, he hath had it allowed; but here, where there is nothing for him to do but to take his natural rest, he must permit his historian to be silent. It is from their actions only that princes have their character, and poets from their works: and if in those he be as much asleep as any fool, the poet must leave him and them to sleep to all eternity. BENTL Ibid. her laureate] When I find my name in the satirical works of this poet, I never look upon it as any malice meant to me, but profit to himself. For he considers that my face is more known than most in the nation; and therefore a lick at the laureate will be a sure bait ad captandum vulgus, to catch little readers.' Life of Colley Cibber, ch. ii. Now if it be certain, that the works of our poet have owed their success to this ingenious expedi There foam'd rebellious logic, gagg'd and bound; REMARKS. ent, we hence derive an unanswerable argument, that this fourth Dunciad, as well as the former three, hath had the author's last hand, and was by him intended for the press: or else to what purpose hath he crowned it, as we see, by this finishing stroke, the profitable lick at the laureate? BENTL. Ver. 21, 22. Beneath her footstool, &c.] We are next presented with the pictures of those whom the goddess leads in captivity. Science is only depressed and confined so as to be rendered useless; but wit or genius, as a more dangerous and active enemy, punished, or driven away: Dulness being often reconciled in some degree with learning, but never upon any terms with wit. And accordingly it will be seen that she admits something like each science, as casuistry, sophistry, &c. but nothing like wit, opera alone supplying its place. Ver. 30. gives her Page the word.] There was a judge of this name, always ready to hang any man that came before him, of which he was suffered to give a hundred miserable examples, during a long life, even to his dotage.-Though the candid Scriblerus imagined page here to mean no more than a page or mute, and to allude to the custom of strangling state criminals in Turkey by mutes or pages. A practice more decent than that of our Page, who, before he hanged any one, loaded him with reproachful language. SCRIBL. Mad Mathesis alone was unconfin'd, Too mad for mere material chains to bind, The dagger wont to pierce the tyrant's breast; And promis'd vengeance on a barbarous age. REMARKS. 40 Ver. 39. But sober history] History attends on tra gedy, satire on comedy, as their substitutes in the discharge of their distinct functions; the one in high life, recording the crimes and punishments of the great; the other in low, exposing the vices or follies of the common people. But it may be asked, how came history and satire to be admitted with impunity to minister comfort to the Muses, even in the presence of the goddess, and in the midst of all her triumphs? A question,' says Scriblerus,' which we thus resolve: History was brought up in her infancy by Dulness herself; but being afterwards espoused into a noble house, she forgot (as is usual) the hu mility of her birth, and the cares of her early friends. This occasioned a long estrangement between her and Dulness. At length, in process of time, they met together in a monk's cell, were reconciled, and be came better friends than ever. After this they had a second quarrel, but it held not long, and are now again on reasonable terms, and so are likely to continue.' This accounts for the connivance shown to history on this occasion. But the boldness of satire springs from a very different cause; for the reader ought to know, that she alone of all the sisters is unconquerable, never to be silenced, when truly inspired and animated (as should seem) from above, There sunk Thalia, nerveless, cold, and dead, Nor couldst thou, Chesterfield! a tear refuse, Thou wept'st, and with thee wept each gentle muse. 49 She tripp'd and laugh'd, too pretty much to stand: REMARKS. for this very purpose, to oppose the kingdom of Dulness to her last breath. Ver. 43. Nor couldst thou, &c.] This noble per son in the year 1737, when the act aforesaid was brought into the House of Lords, opposed it in an excellent speech,' says Mr. Cibber, 'with a lively spirit, and uncommon eloquence.' This speech had the honour to be answered by the said Mr. Cibber, with a lively spirit also, and in a manner very uncommon, in the eighth chapter of his Life and Manners. And here, gentle reader, would I gladly insert the other speech, whereby thou mightest judge between them; but I must defer it on account of some differences not yet adjusted between the noble author and my. self, concerning the true reading of certain passages. BENTL. Ver. 45. When lo! a harlot form] The attitude given to this phantom represents the nature and ge nius of the Italian opera; its affected airs, its effeminate sounds, and the practice of patching up these operas with favourite songs, incoherently put together. These things were supported by the subscrip tions of the nobility. This circumstance, that opera should prepare for the opening of the grand sessions, was prophesied of in Book iii. ver. 304. Already Opera prepares the way, The sure forerunner of her gentle sway. |