Miscellanea: OR Various Discourses UPON

  • 1. Tragedy,
  • 2. Comedy,
  • 3. The Italian
  • 4. The English Comedy.
  • 5. And Operas,

& to his Grace, the D. of Buckingham.

Together With Epicurus his Morals. Written Originally By the Sieur de Saint Euvremont, And made English By FERRAND SPENCE.

To which is Prefixt a General Dissertation, introductory to the several Tracts, and Dedicated to T. M. Esquire.

Licensed R. L'S.

LONDON, Printed for Sam. Holford at the Crown in the Pall-Mall. 1686.

TO MY Honour'd Friend Thomas Milton Esquire.

SIR.

IT is the happiness of this Age, to equal, if not to exceed all others in true Philosophy, that is to say, in the knowledge of men and things. One reason of which knowledge. I shall only insist [Page] on at present, and that lyes in the general Communication of Books by Translating them from all Ages and all Coun­tries into all N [...]oterique Mo­ther Tongues. But, if there be a more than ordinary Exten­sion of this advantage, We, un­doubtedly, meet with it in our own Nation: Where not only the best discourses, penn'd by the most Eminent Men of the States round about us, are taught to speak English, but the Primogenial Wits of Athens and Rome do not miss of such hands, as are in no wise une­qual to the mighty task of Interpreting them, but seem Commissionated by Nature to handle and revive their [Page] Ashes, and perhaps bestow upon them a greater fame and lustre, than they had, when they first appeared in the World.

This, I say, not to set a va­lue or reputation on our own Countrey, by the disparage­ment of Greece or Italy, the first nurseries of Art and Wit, but only to shew, that I am not as yet fully persuaded of the Divinity of those Antient He­roes, and that he who adores 'em, must be at the same time blinded with that Cloud of Incense, which he offers up to them. Great Geniusses, most indubitably, they had, and did rarely well in those days, [Page] wherein they had not fail'd of Admiration) if they had done less: But, by no means, can I think it tolerable, that because they were accounted the chief­est Men in their own Age, they should indefinitely be look'd upon as such in all succeeding times. I will readily grant that those Authors of Anti­quity in their composures of Wit, and particularly in those that appertain to the Theatre, had a richer Vein, than we have, for the Description of Nature, and of humane Passi­ons, and, in brief, of what­e [...]er bears a respect to wording and expression, But, since in things of this nature there are other matters to be observed, [Page] and a due Decorum, Contri­vance, Oeconomy and Metho­dical Distribution of the several Portions is to be carefully minded, (which I may call the Mechanical compounding Parts, and which will require no small number of Rules and Precepts that can never be found out but by a long train of Experi­ence and Reflection) it must follow, that the last Ages will have the advantage in these concerns, for as much as they have enjoy'd all the labour and thinking and mistakes of the former.

Of all the considerations, that belong to Men of Letters, this seems to me the most weigh­ty [Page] and Important: For, if, on the one side, a contemptuous treatment and irreverential behaviour towards our Fore­fathers be an ill quality in a Scholar, on th' other, a neg­lect and disestimation of the Moderns is still of as bad a consequence, by reason of the just indignation, which Men of the clearest Heads in this Age cannot but conceive, when having the most accomplisht na­tural Endowments, and the greatest solidity of judgment, yet they shall chuse rather to lye idle and bury their Talents in obscurity, than venture to come into the light, where they will have open injustice done them: Which Horace complains [Page] he met withal, when the least works of Antiquity were pre­ferr'd before the acutest and most exact Complexures under the Reign of Augustus

This remark, Sir, I hope, is sufficient both to excuse the labour I have bestow'd on this piece, and likewise to make some Apology for my prefixing your name to it: For, as it is a thing of more than ordinary sa­gacity and delicacy of sense, and might claim a much more accurate Pen than mine, to put it into an English dress, and as here will be quarrelling work for the most ambitious and for­ward Spirits in the Empire of Wit, wherein no Man ought [Page] to plead the merit of Nobility and all-commanding Grandeur, but that only of good-sense to Rise, so, I think it a felicity worthy to be commemorated both by my-self and this Book, that I have chosen a Man of that excellence and height of Soul, to whom I might justly assgn the protection of the high­est and most incomparable pre­sent, which, (universally speak­ing) ever the Muses made to Mankind, since the Trium­phant Ages of Conquests and Politeness. I was never so vain as to flatter my self, that I could write any thing, which would bear your Eye: But, having taken in the loftiest Ide­as of these Papers in the Ori­ginal, [Page] I fancy'd, I might safely venture an other Man's thoughts in your presence; Es­pecially, when they were of so nice a stamp and so ponderous a character: Tho, perhaps, in this Translation they do not resemble the Elements of the Aristotelian Hypothesis, which are the more weighty, when re­mov'd out of their Native Sta­tion.

Wherefore, to your Candour, Sir, not Judgment, I m [...]st appeal in this my Perfor­mance: And I do not care, with what disrepute to my self, provided I can get your single Approbation, which is more to me than the Applause [Page] of a whole Theatre. The truth is, unless we take this way, the Criticks are too hard for us: They make Parties, and damn e'ry thing without Wit or Conscience: Which, no doubt, is the readiest way of thriving and building a Man's Greatness in this World; For, if Alexander had snorted and boggled at invading other Men's Kingdoms, he had never wept for the scarcity of Worlds. Yet, let men say what they will, there is such a thing as Good sense, in the General Notion▪ whereof eve­ry one does agree as much as in the Idea of a Triangle. I have frequently met with it in the Pit among the Wo­men, [Page] who have judged with that undebauch'd upright­ness and Integrity, that I could hardly find any Imper­fection, left by traduction in their Souls: Their minds en­joy'd their Native Purity, were unsophisticated and free from all the Illusions of Pre­judice, Friendship, or Inte­rest: and to such minds as these must I recommend the Speculation of these uncom­pounded Essences of Poe­try, with Reference to the Stage.

For, this Enchyridion containing no superficial, but the fundamental Notions, and (as it were) the Meta­physicks [Page] of the Theatre, will require a Mind abstract­ed from all Prepossessions, that can retire into it-self to Meditate, and there whirle about like so many Atomes, the Etern [...]l Paradigms of things, those spectres and Ghosts of Entity, with which Plato was so much inamour'd, as to relate them into the num­ber of his causes. So that un­less the Brain be thoroughly de­fecated, these thoughts will be neither well-understood nor relish'd: They are not of a cut for every ordinary Perception, nor the staring ghesses of the incogitant Rabble. For, as I have heard our Church-men, say, that the Antient Fathers [Page] suppos'd, that the sufferings which our Saviour underwent in his Body, were more affli­ctive to him, than the same wou'd have been to an other person, by reason of his excel­lency and quickness of the sense of Feeling; so likewise these sublime Ratiocinations will be reach'd in proportion to the height of the capacity, that stretches it self at them. They are not deliver'd with Orna­ment and Polishing; they are firm and solid, like Metals of the strongest, most enduring and noblest substance, which are fil'd with the greatest diffi­culty: They are not set off with any pimping dress or for­reign blandishments, but the [Page] Author seems to have that of Martial in his Eye.

Quicquid amas, cupias non placuisse nimis.

Tho' certainly truth never appears more beauteous and killing, than when we have the good Fortune to see her as stark-naked, as ever her Maker made her, or Men keep plain-dealing still so in this World. Octavius took great care to express his mind with the greatest plainness imaginable, and was us'd to reprehend Marc-Antony for writing such things as Men did rather wonder at, than understand. To speak the truth, when we write on a ra­tional [Page] Subject, it is a hard matter to be witty, without spoiling the Connexion and order of Deductions: For Wit being nothing but the fer­ment of the Soul, such Excocti­ons must necessarily offuscate the brightness of Reason, we must deal with it, as we do with dangerous Physick, weighing it by Grains and Scruples and nice Proportions. And, in the management of such Argu­ments, it is as carefully and prudentially to be disperst, as motion in the Universe; what it gains in one part it looses it another, so that in the whole it remains always alike and the same.

[Page] This Objection, I foresaw, would presently be rais'd against these Essayes; and therefore, I have taken leave of you, Sir, here to answer it at first once for all. There are many others, that I know, will be started, which I cannot better obviate and make a reply to, as well as to those, which the Author himself brings against the En­glish Stage, than by prefixing here a Preliminary discourse concerning the distinct Tracts of this Book which I must sub­mit all along to your Lime and Correction: For, since Cri­ticks now adays, are grown more assuming than Jove him­self, and the sacred Lawrel it self is not over-safe from their [Page] Thunder-bolts, the humbler Shrubs of the plain (as Cow­ley calls them) had best take all possible care to shelter them­selves the best they can.

This I shall endeavour to perform in Emulation of my present Author, with all the natural easiness imaginable: I will go no further than my own present thoughts which hazard rather than Study brings into my mind: I will fancy my self in your Compa­ny, sliding from one hint to another, in a grateful variety of Sentiments: I will only ex­amine the plain nature of things, and not the adventiti­ous Appendixes of industrious [Page] Cogitation: If I must be some­times forc'd to an Ostentation of Learning, when I come to want a Quotation, I will get up to reach down my Author: I will speak nothing in a passio­nate and Dogmatical Huff, nor will I follow in Poetry the great Duellists in Religion, who, tho Chaplains to the Prince of Peace, are evermore terma­gantly mad, and with the most sanguinary zeal hacking and hewing one another.

All the World knows, how necessary to our selves is the observation of other Mens minds and manners. The Stage has been so often call'd the Looking-glass of Mankind, [Page] that I am as much asham'd to repeat it, as to obtrude a Pro­verb upon Company for a new notion, or to averr with an hundred and fifty Oaths, that two and two make four. It is almost an Eternal verity, and had not Cicero told me, that for the preservation of health, a Man ought to study and be thoroughly acquainted with the State of his own Body, yet I shou'd have believ'd, that it is very requisite towards a good Regulation of our Lives, to take a Prospect of the love­liness of Vertue, the odious­ness of Vice, and to see those little extravagancies of Men's Tempers, which are stil'd hu­mours, publickly ridicul'd.

[Page] The two first of these are the proper business and subject matter of Tragedy and Tragi­comedy: For I shall use this lat­ter Term, since it's not only authoriz'd by Plautus, but also by the Modern Practice: Tho I may possibly elsewhere and at some other time take occasion to shew, there is no such thing in Nature. In Tra­gedy every thing is employ'd to move and stir up the Passions of the Spectators by the dread­ful Adventures which it repre­sents, and then it's work is to appease and settle their Souls in their former calm and tran­quillity; whilst the great He­roes of Antiquity are rais'd from their Graves, taking up [Page] their Tenements of Clay again, to converse with us. This, questi­onless, is a great advantage, that for half a Crown we can come into their Company, and hear them be their own Histori­ans, and talk such fine things a­bout Love and Honour, without being affrighted at their Spec­tres. And, this is one of the chief Preheminences of a City above a Countrey Life, that we can enjoy such illustrious and edifying Dialogues. We see vir­tue in it's exalted State, that [...], L. 7. C. 1. which Aristotle (who poyson'd his Pupil and Benefactour, men­tions in his Ethicks, whereby he denotes, that it is not so much situated above our Attain­ments, [Page] as above our obligati­ons to attain it, but that when we have acquir'd it into our reach, it will, most infallibly, lift us above the ordinary Pre­dicament of humane Nature, and we shall all become Tran­scendentals. So that, these great Heroes must be truly great, and endued with all manner of Perfections, and all the Moral Vertues: And their Vices must be either very carefully manag­ed or quite conceal'd: Alexan­der must have a great deal of deference and veneration paid him, and he must not be expos'd to laughter, tho he should pre­tend himself to be the By-blow of a God,Note: Inter Epistolas Mandi Procerum. rather than that of honest [Page] King Philip, which his nown Mother resents most bitterly in a very pathetick Letter to the ungracious Universal Mo­narch. However, so many A­batements are not to be made, as that Tragedy should swerve from History: It may improve it, but in such a mea­sure, that the discrimination of the real Persons may remain. Tragedy is to glorify them in this Resurrection, but yet they are still to continue the same Individual Men. It wou'd be extreamly ridiculous to draw Tully and Catiline, Caesar and Cato, Antony and Brutus with the same lines and the same features, tho they liv'd in the very same Age together, and [Page] the same Common-Wealth.

Note: P. 1. And my Author says, that the French excel in works of the Stage, and he may say so with all my Heart, if he will give it me under his hand, that he speaks this in general, or in complement to his own Coun­trey: For, upon no account can I concede it, if he affirms it with an Allusion to Ours. In which sense and acceptation, we may very well understand him, when he boldly Challenges all the Countries in the Uni­verse to dispute with France the advantage of Tragedy, and im­mediately subjoins, that he will allow but four or five English Tragedies to be compleat, and [Page] these neither, unless they were Guelt, and had a great many re­straints and alterations made in them. What these four or five are, Sir, I am sorry he hath not nominated, so that we might have impartially examin'd both their Beauties and Imperfecti­ons, and compar [...]d them with as many of the best French pie­ces. Otherwise we cannot lay hold of him, he speaks at vol­ley and universally; and there is no course to be taken in de­fence of the English Theatre, but one, which I judge to be very odious, and that is a general comparison betwixt that and the French.

With this Province, Sir, I [Page] am not much taken, by reason it is my Opinion, wherein I have your concurrence, that 'tis a putid way of Wit to draw Com­parisons in National Concerns, and to make artful and black­ening Observations on whole Communities: It almost looks as gross as a similitude in a dying Man's Mouth. I will, therefore, modestly, in our Ho­nour only specify one or two things, wherein our Tragedies do as far exceed the French both for Profit and Diversion (if we may allow any at all in this case) as the Monument sur­passes Pancradge-Steeple, both for strength, and height, and Beauty, and, I will leave it to any Rational-man to conjecture at the rest.

[Page] The French Tragedy bears much resemblance to an Epique Poem, picking out, generally, one or two principal Personages of great Renown in Story, and laying out all its gifts on some certain notable passage and e­vent of their Lives. Therefore it will suffer no more men to come upon the Stage, than what are purely necessary to the adorn­ment and furtherance of that one main-action. And then, the whole intrigue is carry'd on in Rhythme, with tedious Harangues, Dialoguewise; where­in the Actors do as devoutly pay their respects to Honour, as if it was a piece of Re­ligious Worship (as indeed Tragedy, heretofore, bore a [Page] part in the Heathen Liturgy) and have the most immortal occasions upon Earth to speak fine things, according to Mr. Bayes's Phrase in the Rehear­sal.

Contrarily, we introduce a manifold and thickening di­versity of Actions into the leading designment; whereas the French are so very super­stitious in observing the Sta­gyrites Rules of purging Pride and Ambition by shewing, that no State can secure Mankind from the Lapses and Reverses of Fortune, that one wou'd guess by their Tragedies, that they had no other vice than Ambition, nor other Men than [Page] Heroes, as we guess at the Diseases of a Countrey by their Remedies. But on th' other hand we aim at curing not only our soaring Sparkes, Our Nahashes, Our Absoloms; but all such Fools as suffer themselves to be mad [...] their Instruments as Our Ziphs by shewing the fa­tality that attends all those that are engag'd in such im­pious undertakings. Thus we flow more free and unconfin'd, mixing with the great Plot many little circumstances, by the help of our Episodes. Whereby these considerable ad­vantages fall on our side, that our scenes are not so nauseous, [Page] nor have so many Ambages, as our Neighbours, but the Audience's Mind, meets the more frequently with different Mutations and Prospects; that our Stage has more Persons upon it, which takes off the fatigue of still viewing the same-object, and adds a pickanter vivacity to whatever is spoken. In the last place, we, for the most part, do not use Rhythme; but blank-verse, whereby the Poets minds is left more to it self, and has a fairer and more natural-field, wherein to ex­patiate, without the necessity of cursing Arabique Customs or Moorish Innovations, which forc­ed a man to spoil a good thought [Page] by tagging it with Ting-tong.

Had our Author duely weigh'd these things, he wou'd not, perhaps, have so hardily pronounc'd against the English Buskin, as he has done, espe­cially by way of comparison, when he could not but remem­ber, what that honest-fellow of a Critick Rapin long ago con­fest of his own Countreymen, that none of them had writ a good Tragedy, nor were ever like to write one. I know by intimation under hand he may oppose against what I have thought fit to say in our behalf, that this variety of Under­plots does bring an heap of confused-events:Note: P. 9. But this lies [Page] wholly at the Poets discre­tion; he is to answer this Objection, I believe, before he can get his Play acted. They may be confused, as in a Chaos, rudis indiges-taque moles, while they lye in the Poet's Mind, they may be then like the first matter, without form: But it is the Poet's work; and, perhaps, one of the greatest Arts of human Wit to unconfound them, to find fit-digressions, and right Ligaments to tye one thing to another, least instead of representing a true State of natural Society, he plunges himself into Hobbs's State of War.

I might here, indeed, Sir, [Page] particularize in many of our Modern English Tragedies, en­dued with all the proportions of place, time and such ex­ternal Regularities, which would prove the most forcible Argument against my Author: But since upon this whole mat­ter, he hath chosen to deli­ver himself, and to sport in Ge­nerals, I have follow'd him but in such a way, that all men of judgement, who have stu­died the English Stage, will think him out of the way, when he judges thus of it. I must a­vow, Sir, I have here miss [...]d an heavenly opportunity of gain­ing the Amity of some of our Top-Poets: But you know, Sir, what a fierce Nation they are, [Page] (as Boileau calls them) and it is, perchance, as dangerous to praise as to discommend any one of them: And, therefore, I will still put both themselves and their Fortunes upon God and their Countrey.

There is one thing more, which upon this Topick impinges on us, Note: P. 9. that we are wonderfully pleas'd with the sight of barba­rous Murthers, that our Stage is an Acheldama, that there we read Eternal Paraphrases upon the third Chapter of Job, and that the more Blood is spilt, the more delight does the audi­ence receive. I will not here al­ledge the Roman Theatre, where­in were as many Knoxes and Car­gyls, [Page] as in the cirque of the Gladiators: I will only deduce a Replication from the nature of our Stage it self. Our scenes are much fuller than the French, in which I have already glo­ry'd; and consequently, the Dependents of great Men al­ways partake of their Fates. Now, how can this be thought a piece of Inhumanity (as my Author thinks it) which is dayly seen to be Acted in Princes Courts, and upon the true Theatre of the World? Our shores (we thank God) are not inhospitable, as they were when Horace said, ‘Visam Britannos hospitibus feros.’

[Page] And the French, I am certain, will allow, that the English can readily borrow a great ma­ny people, to help fill up these By-plots.

I now pass to Comedy, where­in my Author seems not to take the same measures, as he did in Tragedy,Note: P. 39. that every thing ought to be referr'd to one prin­cipal event, However, he de­clares not his own Opinion in this point, but with many al­lowances. He will only have it a contest depending on the Ge­nius of the two Nations. He very fairly and justly allows Ben. Johnson to be an Excellent Comic Poet,Note: P. 44. in de­picting the several humours [Page] and manners of men.Note: P. 35 Yet he thinks, our humours are carried on too far, which pro­ceeds from our too much thinking on the same thing,Note: P. 35. and our too long plodding in the same beaten Tract of Re-action. I had rather at any time, Sir, defend than accuse, but by no means can I omit in this place, what every body knows, in what a Lewd condition the French Comedy is at this day; that (as my Author confesses) it is mostly filtch'd from the Spaniards, and that it is generally (with a few exceptions) degenerated into Farce, Puppet-shews, Buf­foonry, and Apish-tricks: Whereas the English sally into new Invention, and keep it up [Page] to the same sublimity and splen­dour, as it held, when Loeli­us and the Masters of Rome, who had crown'd Heads for their Subjects, writ Comedies to divert the People.

I will not affirm, that we Religiously observe all the Laws, which Kings and Par­liaments of Parnassus have En­acted, and tho a Man will hardly miss of Horace's Art of Poetry in the Title-page, that by consequence all the Rules of that Lycurgus are observed in the ensuing Comedy. Tis enough the Prologue does still either Court or Huff the audience to surprize it's good-Opinion: Love goes still on at the old rate, [Page] he is still reputed the most an­tient of the Gods, [...] (as Plu­tarch says) all things are made and Providentially dispos'd by him.

Totamque infusa per artus Mens agitat molem—

So that tho the Sparks had a perpetual, but a very uneasy Celibacy, till the last Act, yet then from the objective they pass to the formal happiness. And tho (as my Author remarks) the English may surpass the natu­ral Ideas of things, by letting our thoughts dwell too long upon one Object, and rarifying it in­to vast dimensions, yet if it [Page] were otherwise, I am perswad­ed, there cou'd be nothing heard for yawning, all wou'd be cold and chill and beyond the eight Degree. And this reason is to be assign'd, for the continued thickness of the Wit, which sometimes is pil'd up so moun­tainously thick that it is impossible to think any man can be suppos'd to speak or answer so, extemperaneously, but upon Study and Premedi­tation.

But, to consider this thing a little more closely and Philoso­phically, matters do, perhaps, stand in a much better condition as they are, than if they were intirely conform'd to the pre­cepts of Aristotle and Horace. [Page] Indeed, if none but the great Ma­sters of Poetry, who have a thorough insight into these two Law-givers, came into the The­atre, our Adversaries would say something, but our English Actors nothing at all, unless this, Unus est nobis pro Po­pulo, I mean our Lawreat. I have, oftentimes, apply'd my self in some difficult cases to some particular Men, who pretend to have made this Art their Stu­dy: But I have found, they either have not told me their minds sincerely, or else have made ill use of their Pains, seeing, afterwards, I have re­ceiv'd more satisfaction from Persons of ordinary good-sense than these speculative Curiosi. [Page] For it is, indisputably, true, that as to the Art of the Stage, no­thing is more easy, than for a Man to be deceiv'd in his con­ceptions, when he will needs peep into it's delicacy and fineness, and little Whimseyes: Nothing is more easy than to give a wrong Explanation of Aristotles or Horace's Rules, which are wont to breed as great a disorder and hub-bub in an unapt Brain, as they yield illumination and benefit to a mind, fram'd by nature for these sorts of notices.

We are to consider that Co­medy is appointed to please not only the Sir Courtly Nice's in Wit, but all true Souls, whom [Page] Terence calls the People; and we have his Affidavit, who was no Oates, that then it at­taineth it's end, when it pleases them. When a Man, Sir of unblundering sense, that does not lay claim to one Iota of Greek or Latin, that never read (God bless him) either Aristo­tle or Horace, and that never yet aspir'd to write a Billet­doux so much as in his own dear Mother Tongue; when this Man shall tell you, that such a Co­medy pleases him, that he sat easy and attentive all the while without ogling the Boxes, and tho gifted with the Spirit of Ruffling, he bauk'd the Mas­ques of his Douceurs, that he comprehended the Plot very [Page] well, that he view'd it's tur­moils with some disturbance, that afterwards he saw 'em un­ravell'd with some emotions of joy, that he came from the Play-House in some hast, or, perhaps, stumbled in the way, while he was preparing his memory for his Friends, I should believe the Comedy good, and the testi­mony of this one man shou'd be of more comfortable importance and judicious weight with me, than all the petty-reasons of an half-skill'd Play-crafts-man. And I will not go far to prove, if not to demonstrate this as certain as any Problem in Eu­clid, at least in an equal, and not in a comparative sense. For, the difference which lyes be­twixt [Page] a Man of skill, and a Man of no skill, upon this pos­tulatum that there be an equal division of good-sense between them, can never make them to have a different relish of the Comedy. They will be equal­ly pleas'd or displeas'd at the same Play, with this discri­mination only, that the Man of skill can tell, why he is pleas'd, or why he is displeas'd, and the Man of just-sense can­not, as having never made it his business to dive into the Art of Poetry.

But, to leave it in suspence, whether all the Aristotelian and Horation Precepts are nice­ly requisite in the composition [Page] of a Comedy, and not to return back and enquire here, whe­ther the same dispute may be warped also to Tragedy, we can make no manner of questi­on, but that Opera's or pieces of Machine are not subject to their Jurisdiction, but are whol­ly out of the pale of those two great Men's Territories, since they are of a later date, and owe their original to Florence in Lorenzo de Medici's time or to the Venetians, who (as Mr. Dryden thinks, might gather them up from the wrecks of the Grecian and Roman Theaters, Note: Postscript to Albi­ [...] and Alba [...]ius. which were adorn'd with Scenes, Musick, Dances, and Ma­chines, especially the Atheni­an: [Page] Which polite Common­wealth, tho it was very frugal in every thing else, according to Mr. Rhymer's observation, yet did tax and assess them­selves, and did expend more out of their publick Exchequer upon the representation of these publick Plays, than all their Wars cost them, tho sometimes both Sea and Land were co­ver'd with barbarous Foes, by whom they were invaded.

Aristotle, whom all men a­gree, to have treated of the Stage the first and the best of any Writer, saith, that two things therein are parti­cularly to be observ'd, which are verisimility and marvel­lousness, [Page] with this difference, that in Comedy nothing but what retains on verisimilitude is to be admitted, whereas Tragedy doth not refuse the marvellous,Note: Preface Ibid. or as Mr. Dryden calls it, the sur­prizing conduct. However in this case, great moderation the Philosopher will have used, so that if a Man be forc'd to intermingle things supernatu­ral and so usher in the Gods, it must only be on some pinch of necessity: And this is the sense of that Law and Ordi­nance of the old Peripatetique Gentleman, which Judge Hales himself cannot interpret more uprightly. From whence we may deduce this Corollary, [Page] that Dramatick Poetry is to be thus essentially divided: Comedy ought to have every thing likely and probable, i. e. only natural and ordinary E­vents; Opera's which are a species, that stand in oppo­sition to the former, must ac­cept only of extraordinary and super-natural Adventures: But Tragedy, like the Aristotelian vertue, is to lye snudging be­twixt them both, being com­pounded of marvellousness and possibility. So that hence we see, the vices and imper­fections of a Comedy, are the vertues and beauties of an Opera. Nothing is more wicked in a Comedy than the slipping and alteration of the [Page] Scene: But nought is so rich and excellent in an Opera as the breaking of all the unities of time, place and action, I mean as the leaps, not only from one place of the Earth, to an other, but from Earth to the Empyrean Heav'n, and from Heav'n to Hell: While the simple Inhabitants of the Lunar Planet little think what work we make with them in Dorset-Garden. In a Comedy, nothing is so unmercifully in­supportable, as to ungigg or explicate the Intrigue by a Miracle, or by the kind arrival of some [...]: where­as in an Opera nothing is so charmingly ravishing, as these sorts of Miracles and these Ap­paritions [Page] of Divinities, when Men have some ground and reason to introduce them.

From this wide distinction betwixt the nature of Comedy and Opera, it may be deter­min'd, that either my Author did not understand the right notion of Operas,Note: P. 42. when he terms them, ev'n beyond a litte­ral sense, Comedies in Mu­sique,Note: P. 45. or else he means that abused Constitution of them, which he himself derides, when they are compell'd in Musick to negotiate the inferiour and common affairs of civil Life. In this ▪ Observation he cer­tainly shakes hands with truth, and I am sure, you, Sir, will [Page] take his side: For I, partly, be­lieve, that should a Man dril­lingly sing and warble out an errand to his Lacquais, the Fellow might, perhaps, go, but I fancy, he would make more hast to Court than to the place appointed him in his message, that he might be the first to make Friends for his Master's Estate.

I will not here examine my Author's judgment in sing­ing, nor the Preference he gives the French to the Italian Operas, such an attempt being extraneous to my un­dertaking: But since he damns the very essential con­stitution of this Theatrical En­tertainment, [Page] notwithstanding the incivility, I think my self engag'd to see him contra­dicted. And I hope, Sir, that I shall obtain your pardon both for the tediousness and the unpolish'd neglect of this dis­course, especially in this part of it, wherein I have so few helps, seeing I do at once plead the cause of Friend­ship, and, perhaps, of good-sense: For, this portion of the Stage's diversion being but a Novice in our Theatre, and having just receiv'd the Royal Approbation and en­couragement, as it would be unmannerly to let any thing slip the Press, that so much as indirectly strikes at the [Page] design, so it wou'd be as severe too, and to the de­triment of the Actors, who have been at immense char­ges in carrying it on, and some of whom of Eminent judgment and sense I am proud to call my Friends.

All the reasons, therefore, which I can find my Author goes upon, in subverting root and branch, the constitu­tive Principles and founda­tion of Opera's are two. The first is more general. That it is impossible for the mind of Man to be sincerely pleas'd, when it has so lit­tle to do, Note: P. 42. and that tho, perhaps, it may be at first [Page] surpriz'd into some delight, yet, afterwards, it presently sinks into it self, and be­comes tir'd and drooping. The other is, that he never saw an Opera,Note: p. 44. but what to him appear'd foolish and contemp­tible, either in the disposi­tion of the subject, or in the composure of the Verses.

In reply to these reasons: This principle is acknow­ledg'd as a Basis and Ground­work in all Arts and Sci­ences, that those who first invented them, and gave 'em all the perfections requisite to their Frame, Nature and Constitution, ought to be the Supream Dictators in [Page] whose steps, all the follow­ing Disciples are to tread: Otherwise, they tread awry. So that, as the Italians did first pitch upon and accomplish in all it's numbers this En­tertainment of Operas, who­ever undertakes to compose an Opera, must wholly square his measures to their design. This my Critick ought to have consider'd, before he had gone, and committed High-Treason against one of the most establish'd and most fa­mous Laws among Men of Wit, by not having the fear of Authority before his Eyes, and by contriving some new Atheistical Regulations, ac­cording to which he would [Page] alter the setled Government.

But (it seems) he has rea­son so to do: No Man of sense can be taken with things, which have no sense in 'em: The mind does not find matter enough in 'em, to employ it self about no­thing but noise and fine shews: And the Ludgate-audience, provided they be neither Deaf nor Blind were by Predestination devised to be charm'd with these super-aerial practices: Mighty Scenes and Fustian adorn'd with ex­travagant Decorations never fail, but operate as certainly as a Devil, a Fool, and a Frier: And what is the effect [Page] of all this, but to be praised by such a Riff-raff is to be condemned.

It was said of the Empe­rour Trajan when he boasted of his Parthian Trophee be­fore the Gods, that he was [...], and that he regarded a sound of words more than real mat­ter it self: But whether this is liable to be apply'd to Ope­ras, I will leave it to the decision of all judicious men, from the consideration both of what has been already urg'd upon this Topick, and what I shall further add in confutation of the second ar­gument. In the interim, I will [Page] here put the case, that there is nothing to be heard, felt, or understood but a non-sen­sical sound: Yet, if this sound be truly Harmonical, whe­ther vocal or Instrumental, or both, men will certainly prefer it sometimes before the greatest. Embellishments of Wit. Musick, therefore, as well as all other polite Arts has been embrac'd and che­rish'd by all the most glori­ous Nations in the Universe, and has receiv'd it's augmen­tation proportionable to the augmentations of Empire. I have already particulariz'd in two immortal and com­manding Nations, especially the Romans, who not only [Page] us'd it in their Theaters, but in Religious matters on the greatest of all days, when their Carmina soecularia were sung with so much pomp and ostentation, that they were styled [...], The Hebrews themselves (not to speak of the glittering and incessant use of it in their Temple) did in Solomons time, when that Dominion was elevated to it's highest Akme, and ev'n a note above Ela, had' publique times of joy adorn'd with the magni­ficence of musical perfor­mances. And, as Mr. Dryden has remarqu'd that the first Operas Note: P [...]ef. to Alb. a [...]d Alba [...]. seem'd to be design'd [Page] by the Italians for the Cele­bration of Princes Marriages, or days of Universal rejoicing, whereof he gives us an instance in Guarini's Pastor fido; So the Song of Songs, (as our Learned Church-men long ago express'd it) ‘is a kind of Divine Pastoral, or Marri­age Play, consisting of di­vers Acts and Scenes: Or a sacred Dialogue (by way of Opera) with many in­terlocutory passages. First the Bride comes in, and saith, Let him kiss me with the kisses of his Mouth: Then the Bridegroom, I have com­par'd thee, O my Love, to a Troop of Horses, &c. After which he withdraws [Page] himself, and sits at his re­past, leaving the Bride with her Companions, as it were alone upon the Stage, who thus speak to her, We will make thee Borders of Gold and Studds of Silver, &c.’

But to come nearer home, and to give a tast of our own times, Balets have ever been in vogue in France, Spain has it's Bull-feasts, the Moores their Zambra's, the Ger­mans their Wirschafts, being pieces compos'd of Mascarad [...]s, Balets, and Songs, the Court of Savoy it's Sapates, and none of these Entertainments but has Musick for an essential Ingredient.

[Page] Can we, then, think that Actions, tho long, of Dra­matique Musick to be un­grateful, and sure to put the audience to the most hideous Agonies of yawning? Can we suppose the most delicate Peo­ple, that ever yet liv'd upon Earth to be Sots and heavy Ideots? Can we imagine them to be weary of an happiness of their own contrivance, and to be as great Fools as the Apostate Ang [...]ls, who were cloy'd with their f [...]li [...]ity, and left th [...]ir own Habitations? Toward a ple [...]ary satisfaction and compleat a [...]quiescence of mind, it is necessary, that all the powers of our Souls, be adequately fill'd with Plea­sure, [Page] and be rapt up into an Eternal Enjoyment. There must be no interfering Acci­dent, to break it off. The trance must be ineffable, and what signifies it, so it be a Trance, whether it be agree­able to the Catholick▪ mea­sures of sense or reason? I confess, Mr. Cowley says, that Wit should not be lay'd too thick, but discreetly ma­nag'd and scatter'd up and down: But for my share, I do not think this notion is extensive to the divertise­ments of the Eye or Ear: And I fancy a Lady much more richly dress'd in a Gown all laid o'er with Jewels, than with here and there one, nice­ly scituated.

[Page] The Thomists will have the fruition of the Divinity to consist solely in an Act of the Understanding, which they call Vision: But the Sco­tests in an Act of the Will, which is Love: And the Tho­mists seem to have the better of the argument, because see­ing the operation in which our perfectest happiness is found­ed, must he the perfectest ope­ration, and seeing that of the intellectual is more perfect than that of the sensitive part, it is apparent, that the ope­ration of this fruition must lye in the Intellectual Part only. But tho I question not but that both in th' upshot may be brought to an accommoda­tion, [Page] according to the Max­imes of the new Philoso­phy, which holds all sensa­tions not to be realities ei­ther in the senses or the ob­jects of them, but to subsist solely in the perception. I say, I do not care, whether the Pleasure springs from ei­ther part, provided I have the Pleasure: Tho, perhaps, all that results from Harmony, arises from the Concord, it bears to our Souls, which some have opin'd to be Har­mony.

I know, sometimes, our sense of seeing is affected to that degree with the Harmony or Beauty of Colours, and [Page] our hearing with that of sounds, that some have prov'd too frail for the enjoyment, and have become maddish with the superlative Plea­sure. And to this cause may be ascrib'd the extravagant joys of the Italian Theatre, where the Composers of the Musick of the Opera, en­deavo [...]r to end the Scenes of the principal Actors, with such Airs as not only draw the applauses of the whole Theatre, when Benissimo is heard from a thousand Mouths at once, but have sometimes transported some Gentlemen besides themselves and their Wits by the charming voices of their Young Women, so [Page] that they have cry'd out, while they lean over from their Galleries, Ah Cara! mi Butto, mi Butto, as if they were about to precipitate them­selves down in the extasies, into which they were rapt by these divine voices.

This, I think Sir, enough to offer in contradiction to the first reason of my Cri­tick: The second does with­out any exception or dis­pensation condemn every par­ticular Opera, he ever yet saw, both as to the dispo­sal of the main subject, and the composition of the ver­ses; I will not here ob­ject to him Lovigis Operas, [Page] wherein he franckly avows, Note: P. 5 [...]. himself hath found inimi­table things, nor any of the Illustrious Atchievements in this kind of the Italian Masters: I will only bring our Alb. and Albanius in­to his consideration, which not only for the amussitated ma­nagement of the subject-mat­ter, and the ingenious con­trivance of the versification, but for the great and God-like Argument, for the He­roique design of it's Instru­ction, for the admirable and sumptuous performance in the sweetness of the Musick, in the Harmonique Movements and Postures, in the richness of the Habits, and the Beau­ty [Page] of the Machines and Decorations, we may op­pose in competition with any thing, that ever Paris or Venice it self did yet see. Notwithstanding the ge­neral design is but as yet in a State of Probation.

The Argument is both according to and beyond the Poets own Heart, both litterally true and super-na­turally Historical. The mi­raculous Restauration and Deliverances of the two Roy­al Brothers, with the Apo­theosis of our late Immortal and cherish'd Monarch. The Instruction easie and fresh in our Memories, Treason [Page] defeated by the Almighty, and his Vice-gerents preserv'd. We are not constrain'd like our Neighbour Nations, to feign Poetical Tales: We have dai­ly new-subjects for Operas set before our Eyes, and we see ours acted first on the true Theatre of the World.

The conduct sublime, yet no great chasms in it, but such as rather seem to heighten than stint the minds of the audience. The Verses pure, fluent and fill'd with a Coelestial and Blissful Cadence, nothing in our Lan­guage, yet extant, comparable to it. And we can find but one and twenty Apostrophe's (I mean of distinct Woods) through the [Page] whole Series of the verse.

This was a way of writing, first observ'd and introduc'd by Mr. Waller: And without this, the contrivance of Operas could never stand. And as there is a sweetness in the middle, so is there at the end of the verse, which is chiefly caus'd by the Dissyllable and Trissyllable Rhymes, lately much us'd in our Songs, and borrow'd originally from the Italians. [...]or, it is ge­nerally of the Constitutive na­ture of all Italian verses, of what num [...]er of Syllables soever they be, to have the Acc [...]nt upon the P [...]nultima. There a [...]e some, in­deed, which they call Sdruccioli or slippery verses, that lay it [Page] upon the Ante-penultima, their final Cadence running swift: Whereof we have many exam­ples in this English Opera, as being naturally Competible to it's Constitution, as may be prov [...]d by this instance.

The Italians, as they have preserv'd many things of the La­tine through their whole Tongue, so have they retain'd a sort of verses, nam'd Sciolti, without Rhyme: Wherein that excellent Traduction of Virgil's Aeneis is written by Hannibal Caro, from whom, I am of opi­nion, Sir, that that great man of your name, whose enlarged Genius, you inherit, separated from the unhappy and fatal ma­lignities, [Page] which belong'd to that Age, took his design. The body of the work consists of Heroique verses of eleven Syllables, but he sometimes mixes the Sdruccioli of twelve, and then principally, when he makes the Gods to speak as in the Sybill's Answer in the Sixth Book.

Verrano i Teucri al regno di Lavinio,
Di ciò t' affido. Ma benstoito desser vi
Si penteranno. Guerre, guerre horri bili
Sor gere ne veggio, & pien di sangue il Tevere.

As to the performance, I will not inquire whether our English voices are so fine and fit for things of this nature: I will ra­ther suspend my judgment with my Author, remembring, that things cannot at first receive [Page] their ultimate perfection, qui non est hodiè, cras magis ap­tus erit; and that there is a strife among Musicians as well as Men of all other Professions:

[...].

I will not strain in com­mending the vision of the Ho­nours of the Garter, in which we see the Glories of our Au­gust Prince with all the lesser Deities about him.

Divisum Imperium cum Jove Caesar habet.

Neither will I mention the Peacock which had the Samii [Page] seen (who stamp'd it's Pour­traiture upon their Coins, because Juno, to whom it was dedicated, was by them ado­red) they would not only have Worshipped her but the Bird too, and, perhaps, more the Birds very Pourtraict. She, indeed, is appointed by the Poets to con­vert the Eyes of Argus in the Peacock's Train: But here the Spectator does wish for his Eyes to look upon the Bird it self, as being as rare a sight, as when it was first transported from the Barbarians into Greece, at which time Aelian tells us, that among the Atheni­ans it was not to be seen with­out Money.

[Page] I will not enlarge, Sir, upon these Occurrences, because they have already betray'd me into a great deal of Pedantry, tho I have made it my scope all a­long to keep at as great a dis­tance as I could from the A­nonimous Translator, who some days ago put forth these Stage Essays. I will say nothing in derogation of his Traducti­on, nor build my own Repu­tation upon the ruins of ano­ther Mans; But I do not doubt, that if he had ponder'd more, he wou'd have more throughly un­derstood his Author, and a lit­tle more pains wou'd have bet­ter spoke his Acquaintance with honest Will. Lilly.

[Page] And now, Sir, I think I have been sufficiently guilty of the Vice the Greeks call'd [...], as to have try'd to what a degree you stand possess'd of the great vertues of perseverance and long-suffering, so as that it's high time to make an end, least I be goar'd with questo non sa la storia intiera, perche non gli fu insignata la fine. Where­fore I shall leave all I had to say about Epicurus, to my An­notations: It being an infinite work to dispute concerning sum­mum bonum, of which So­crates affirms in his Ecclesiasti­cal History, there were three hundred several Opinions. This is all I have to add, that [Page] Epicurus had a Garden, and in that Garden stood a Tree of Knowledge: But in the Bark of it was writ, by some Lycur­gus or other, a Noli me tan­gere.

I am, Sir,
Your Most Humble, Most Affectionate, Most Obliged Servant. F. SPENCE.

ERRATA.

PAge 43. line 9. deleatur a, P. 48. l. 2. read made, p. 63. l. 1. del. no doubt, p. 69. l. 18. r. calumniate, p. 77. l. 6. r. with which, p. 79. l. 10. for than is there, r. there can, p. 83. l. 23. r. si [...]ce, p. 89. l. 8. r. innocent, p. 90. l. 18. r. cotten, p. 39. l. 10. r. twinges and pinches, p. 97. l. 2. for then, r. thee, ibid. l. 12. r. Ruines, p. 98 l. 11. for ten, r. a, ib. l. 22. r. laudable, p. 99. l. 3. r. contrarible, p. 104. l. 18. r. he became, p. 135. l. 16. r. Tergily­linus, p. 113. l. 20. r. Thyestes, p. 115. l. 1. r. h [...]r­rid, ib. l. 11. r. Alemeon, p. 118. l. 19. r. that th [...] it, &c. p. 123. l. 2. r. an, p. 129. l. 12. r. est? p. 130. l. 6. r. ruinate, p. 131. l. 24. for theirs, r. other's, p. 133. l. 8. r. her, ib. l. 9. r. Jilt, p. 136, l. 1. r. Ca­millus, ib. l. 12. r. are, ib. l. 14. for being, r. is, p. 141. l. 1. r. starry, p. 144 l. 11. for bate, r. ca [...]l, p 145. l. 7. r. sublimi, p. 146. l. 10. r. sparkling, p. 155. l. 4. r. thee. These are the material Errours, which have escap'd the Press, except some few Literal ones, the Principal whereof I leave to be corrected by the Reader, in page 102, 106, 114, 115, 117, and 140.

MISCELANY DISCOURSES.

§ Of TRAGEDY.

IT is my Opinion, that the French excel in Works of the Theatre; and I believe, I shou'd not flatter Corneille, if to many of his Tragedies I gave the Preheminence over those of Antiquity. I know, the Antient Tragic Poets have had Admirers in all Ages; but I question whe­ther this Loftiness, both of Place and Wit, ascrib'd 'em by these Admirers, has any solid foundation.

To make us believe that So­phocles and Euripides are as admi­rable, [Page 2] as they tell us, we must fancy many more things in their own Works, than what we can learn from their Translators, and in my mind, the words and Language must claim a considerable portion in their Beauty.

Through the Praises of their most Renowned, and most Partial Adorers, (methinks) I see, and perceive, that Grandeur, Magni­ficence, and chiefly Dignity, were things very little known by 'em: They were a parcel of Good Wits coop'd up in a narrow Fami­ly of a small Common-wealth, to whom a Necessitous Liberty serv'd instead of all manner of Things.

Put'em upon representing the Majesty of a great Monarch, they knew not scarcely how to enter on such an unknown Grandeur: Their Senses were so us'd and assubjected to base and mean Objects, that they could hardly avoid them.

'Tis true, these Wits, distasting [Page 3] such Objects, sometimes heav'd 'emselves up to something won­derful and sublime: but then, they wou'd be ever bringing so many Gods and Goddesses into their Tra­gedies, that a man could meet with nothing Mortal or Humane in 'em: What was Great, was Fa­bulous; what was Natural, was Poor and crawling.

In Corneille, Height and Gran­deur is known by it self: The Figures, he uses, are handsom, when he has a mind to trim it with some Ornament; but generally, he neglects those extravagant Sallies, and goes not o' hunting in the Heavens for something to set off that which is already considerable enough on Earth: He thinks it sufficient to make a right entrance into things; and the full and just Image, he gives us, of them, makes that true Impression, which Men of good sense love to receive.

In effect, most admirable every [Page 4] where is Nature: And when Men have recourse to that strange and borrowed Splendor, where­with they think to embellish Ob­jects, 'tis frequently a tacit Confes­sion, that they do not know their Propriety and true Nature. Hence proceed the greatest part of Our Figures and Comparisons, which I cannot approve of, un­less they come very seldom, un­less they be altogether noble, and altogether just: Otherwise, by this subtile dexterity, they seek a di­version, to turn a Man's thoughts away from the things, which themselves do not understand. Yet what-ever Beauty simile's may have, they agree much better with an Epic Poem than a Tragedy. In an Epic Poem the mind seeks its Divertisement out of the main Subject; but, in a Tragedy, the Soul being full of thought, and crowded with Passion, does not easily move at the meer glittering of a Similitude.

[Page 5]To return to those Antients, from whom our Discourse has insensibly strayed, and that we may do 'em Justice, we must con­fess, that they have succeeded much better in expressing the Qualities of their Heroes, than in descri­bing the Magnificence of great Kings. A confus'd Idea, of the Glories of Babylon, did rather spoil than exalt their Imagination: But their Wit could not commit any mistake as to Strength, Con­stancy, Justice and Wisdom, where­of they had evermore Examples before their Eyes. Their sense being disengag'd from Pride, in a mean sort of Com [...]on-wealth, left their Reason more free to consi­der Men by themselves.

Thus nothing diverted them from studying Humane Nature, from applying their minds to the Knowledge of Vices and Vertues, of Genius's and inclinations. By this means, they learnt to frame their [Page 6] Charact [...]rs so well, that a man cannot wish 'em to be more just according to the age, wherein they liv'd. Tho we may be satisfi­ed with knowing persons by their Actions, yet Corneille did beleive, it was not enough to make them Act, he went to the very bottom of their Souls, to find out the Principle of their actions, he de­scended into their hearts, to see the passions form'd, and to disco­ver what was most hidden in their Motions.

As for the antient Tragique Poets, either they neglect the passions, to keep closer to the exact representation of Passages, or else they bring in grave Talkers, even in the midst of pinches and perturbations, and will tell you starch'd Sentences, when you are to expect Despair and Trouble.

Corn [...]ille robs us of nothing of what passes, but brings every [Page 7] Action into view as far as decency permits: Yet still, to his Thought, he gives all the extent it requires, conducting Nature without per­plexing or abandoning it too much to it self.

What ever was barbarous, he has prun'd off from the Antient Th [...]atre: He has mollifi'd the horrour of its scene, by certain tendernesses of Love judiciously distributed: But he has taken no less care, to keep up our fei [...] and our [...]ioy in his Tragical Sub­jects, not diverting the Soul from those true Passions, which it shou'd feel, to those little trou­blesome Sighs which, tho' varied a hundred times, never cease being always the same.

What Praises soever I give this Excellent Author, I do not say, that his pieces are the only, that deserve applause upon the French Theatre. The French have been taken with Alc [...]one, So­phonisba, [Page 8] Mariamne, Stilicon, An­dromache, Britannicu [...], and many others, whose goodness I do not pretend to disparage, by not naming them.

I avoid, as much as possible, being distastful; and I shall think it sufficient to say, that never a­ny Nation could dispute with [ours] the advantage of excelling in Tragedies.

As to those of the Italians, they are hardly worth mention­ing; to name 'em only is enough to clog a Man: Their Feast of Peter would kill the patientest Soul upon Earth, 'tis so tiresom; and never did I see it, but I wisht the Author of that Piece Thunder-stricken with his Atheist.

There are four or five English Tragedies where, in good truth, many things ought to be re­trench'd; and with this Curtai­ling they wou'd be render'd al­together exact and compleat.

[Page 9]In all the rest you can see no­thing but matter without form and disgestion, an heap of con­fused events: And without con­sideration of places or times, without any regard to decency; their cruel Eyes delight to see Blood and Wounds and most direful Murthers.

Of these things to take away the horror, by Recitals and by telling Stories, as is us'd in France, this is to rob the People of the sight of what affects 'em most.

Men of sense do disallow of this Custom, establisht perchance on no very civil and humane sense in the Minds of Men: but it is an Ancient Habit and way, where­in the Nations Tast in general takes place over the delicacy of particular Persons.

To die is so trivial a thing a­mong the English, that to move them there is need of Ideas and Images more dreadful than death [Page 10] it self: Upon which account the French do reproach 'em for allow­ing too much to their se [...]ses in the Theatre. On the other hand the French must take that twitting ve­ry kindly from them, in that they pass into the other extremity, when they admire such Tragedies, as have little fine softnesses, which make no very strong Impression upon the mind. Sometimes their Hearts, being very ill satisfied with a tenderness, which has been ill-formed, they seek for a further emotion in the acting of the Play­ers. Sometimes they will have the Actor be more transported than the Poet, and lend some fury and despair to a mean agitation and too common a grief.

In a word, that which ought to be tender, is only sweet; what is to Create pity, only causes tend­ [...]rness: A meer emotion serves in­stead of a seizure, and Astonish­ment of Horror.

[Page 11]Something, that is profound and searching, is wanting to our Sentiments: And the Passion, being toucht b [...]t by halves, excites only imperfect motions in our Souls, which do neither leave them in their proper seat, nor yet raise 'em up [...]ove themselves▪

§ Of COMEDY.

AS to Comedy, which ought to represent Life in ordina­ry and common Conversation, the French have altogether wheel'd it upon Galantry in imitation of the Spaniards, not considering, that the Antients made it their whole bu [...]ness to represent Humane Life according to the diversity of Hu­mors; and that the Spaniards, to follow their own proper bent and Genius, have only describ'd and painted out the Life, that is lead [Page 12] at Madrid in their Intrigues and Adventures.

I confess this sort of work, a­mong the Antients, might have had a much more Noble Air, and more Gallant: But this was ra­ther the fault of those Ages than the fault of those Authors. Now­adays the greater part of our Po­ets are as little acquainted with the manners, as they in those times knew what Galantry was. You wou'd swear, there are no more Covetous Rogues now living, no more spend-thrifts, no more good natur'd Men, of an humor fit for Society, no more People naturally peevish, gloomy; and austere; as if Madam Nature was chang'd, and Men had worn out these several Impressions. Now under the very same Character they are all represented, whereof I know no reason, unless it be this, that the Women in our daies have found it very seasonable, [Page 13] that there ought to be no Crea­tures but Galants in the World.

I must acknowledge, that the Madrid-Wits are much more fruit­ful in Invention than the French Sparks: For which reason, the Latter have fetch't thence the greatest part of their Subjects, which they have crowded with amorous or tender Discourses, and wherein they have put more Re­gularity and likely-hood. The cause is, for that in Spain, where the women are seldom or never seen, the Poet's imagination is spent in ingenious waies to bring the Lovers together into the same place; whereas in France, where a free liberty of Commerce is settled, the Author's greatest delicacy is em­ploy'd in the tender and lovely expressions of Thoughts.

'Tis not long since [let me see] a Lady of Quality, in Spain, read the Romance of Cleopatra: And happening, after a long nar­ration [Page 14] of Adventures, to fall up­on a very curious and nice con­versation, betwixt a Lover and his Mistress, that had an equal passi­on one for the other: God bless me, saies she! What a World of wit is here ill impl [...]y'd? What signify all these fine discourses, when they are got both together? The pleasant­est R [...]flexion was this, that ever I heard in all my Life: And Calpre­net, tho a French-man, ought to have remember'd, that, to Lovers born under a Sun much hotter then that of Spain, Words were very useless on such occasions: But this La­dies good sense would never be receiv'd in the Ordinary Galan­tries among the French, where a man may speak a thousand times of a passion, before he can be once believ'd, and be whole years making complaints, before he can meet with the happy minute of putting a period to his tor­ment.

[Page 15] Moliere's Coy Lady is made a ridiculous Character in the thing it self, as well as in the Terms, to be loath to take the Roman by the tail, when he is about treating the serious affair of Mar­riage with her Parents: But it had not been a false delicacy with a Galant, to expect his Declarati­on, and what-ever comes by de­grees, in a procedure of Ga­lantry.

As for Regularity and Verisimili­tude, 'tis no wonder, we meet with 'em less among the Spani­ards, than among the French: As all the Spanish Galantry came from the Moors, there still remains in't some relish of Africa, unknown to other nations, and too extra­ordinary to be accommodated to the exactness of Rules.

To this add, that an old im­pression of Knight-erran [...]ry, which has the ascendant over all Spain, does bias the minds of the Cavali­ers [Page 16] to mighty silly adventures. The Young Ladies, on their parts, in their very child-hood, draw in this Air from the books of Chi­valry, & the fabulous prittle-prattle of the old women about them. So that with the same Ideas do both the Sexes fill their minds: And generally, the Men and Women look upon the scruple of an amo­rous extravagance as a pitiful cold­ness, unworthy of their passion.

Though Love, in no Countrey what-ever, takes very good and ac [...]urate measures, yet still this I will say, that it hath nothing very extravagant in France, ei­ther in the manner of it's making, or in the ordinary events, which it produces. That, which is call'd a true passion, has much adoe to preserve it self from being Laught at: For the People of Quality, be­ing engaged in several cares and employs, never devote their thoughts to it, as the Spaniards [Page 17] do amidst the inglorious ease of Madrid, where no motion is but what proceeds from Love.

At Paris, the continual hurry of the Court ties men up to the Function of a charge, or else the design of an employment keeps them awake, fortune prevailing over the Mistress in a place, where the Custom is for a man to prefer what is his interest before what he Loves: And the Ladies, who are to regulate 'emselves accord­ingly, have more Galantry than passion, and besides do make use of their Galantry to dive into Intrigues.

Very few are there but are sway'd by vanity and interest and so the concerns jogg on the better o' both sides, they interchangeably make use o' one of the other, [Page 18] they of their Galants, and their Galants of them, to get their own ends.

Love never fails of intruding into the Company of this Interest, but he seldom becomes it's Head or Master. For the conduct, which Men are oblig'd to keep in their Affairs, does adapt and fashion 'em to some regularity in their Pleasures, or at least distan­ces them from any Extravagant Actions.

In Spain to Live, is to Love: What they call Love in France, is only [...]o talk of Love [in propriety of speaking] and to mix vain Ga­lantries with the sentiments of Ambition.

These differences being consi­dered, no Man can think it strange, that the Spanish Comedy, which is nothing else but the re­presentation of their Adventures, shou'd have as little regularity as the Adventures themselves; nor [Page 19] any more can he admire, that the Comedy among the French, which does not stray from their Usages, shou'd keep up those Respects in the representation of their Amours, as they commonly keep in the Amours themselves. I confess, good sense, which ought to be a Native of all Countreys in the World, does establish certain things, which in no part can be withal dispensed. Yet it's an hard matter, o' my word, not to al­low much to Custom; since Aris­totle himself, in his Art of Poetry, sometimes places Perfection in what was believ'd and thought better at Athens, and not in what was really the most perfect.

Comedy hath no more Privi­ledge then the Laws, which ought all to be founded upon Justice, yet nevertheless have particular discriminations according to the different Genius of the People, that make them. And if a Man [Page 20] be obliged to preserve the Air of Antiquity, if he is to keep up the Character of Hero's, that are dead two thousand years since, when he represents 'em upon the Stage, how can he not follow the humors, and fit himself to the manners of those now alive, when he represents to their Eyes that which they do every day them­selves?

Yet what Authority soever Custom is pleas'd to assume, yet undoubtedly reason holds the Primary Rights; but its exactness ought not to be harsh and rigid. For, in things designed purely for Pleasure, as Comedy is, it is unkind and troublesome to enslav [...] a Man to an aus [...]ere order, and to begin with the Rack in Subjects, where we only seek for diver­sion.

§ Of the Italian COMEDY.

YOu have heard what I had to say of the French and the Spanish Comedy: I shall now tell you my Thoughts of the Italian. I shall not speak of Amyntas, Pastor Fido, Phillis, Cyrus, and other Comedies of the like Na­ture. A Man must understand the graces of the Italian Tongue a great deal better than I do: for, tho I am charm'd with Amyntas perhaps more than any Italian, 'tis because I make a thorough passage into the Poets mind, and ap­prehend the things more sharply than the Verses. On the other hand, in this discourse I design to speak of Comedy, as it is ordinarily seen upon the Stage. That which is shewn up and down in France, of the Italian Theatre, is not pro­perly [Page 22] Comedy, since it has no true Platform; the subject has no liga­ment to tye the parts together; nothing of Character is well kept, nor of Composition, whereby an happy wit is well guided, at least according to some rules of art: But it is only a kind of ill-ma­nag'd consort among many Actors, where every body supplies and provides of himself, what he judges fit for his proper Person: 'Tis (in short and to speak my mind) a medly and heap of im­pertinent Tuneable Words in the mouths of Inamorato's, and cursedly foolish Buffooneries in those of Zanis.

You can see nothing of true Judgment any where, but false wit, which reigns either in very heavenly-minded thoughts, as Suns, Stars and Elements, or in an affectation of Nativeness and plain-dealing, that has nothing of true nature.

[Page 23]I confess the Buffoons are in­imitable: and among the hundreds of Imitators or Posturers [if I may use such a word] that I have seen, there has not one come near resembling them in their Grimaces, their motions, their agility, their Fea [...]s of Activity, their disposition to change their Faces as they please. I know not whether the Mimi and Pan­tomimi among the Antients had any great Advantage over them, tho we read very wondrous things of 'em. 'Tis certain a Man must love such waggish jesting and un­happy Meriment to be really af­fected with what he hears. He must also be of a very grave and co [...]posed humor, not to laugh at what he sees: And 'twould be atoo-too-much affected moroseness, not to be pleased at their Acting, tho a Man of a delicate Ear would not take any pleasure in their discourse.

[Page 24]All representations, wherein Wit bears no share, are trouble­some at the long-run, but yet they fail not to surprize and be agreea­ble sometime before they grow troublesome, as Buffoons divert a Man of sense only by whiles and interims. The Art is to put a stop to it in due time, and not allow the mind space to return to the justness of thinking and discourse, and to the Idea of un-hypocritical Nature. This Oeconomony, as it is desiderated, so is to be desired and wisht for in the Italian Co­medy: For the first distast is follow'd by a new trouble much more wearisom; and the Variety instead of refreshing you, brings only a new sort of Drooping.

In few words, when you have been most unmercifully tired with the Buffoons, that have staid too long on the Stage, to compleat your ruin the Amorous hot-spurs ap­pear: This, in my opinion, is [Page 25] the last and ut [...]ost Punishment that can be inflicted on a judging Per­son; and a Man wou'd have greater reason to prefer ready and immediate death to the patience of hearing them out, than Bocaliny's Lacedemonian had, when he pre­ferr'd the Gibbet before that long and tedious Reading the War of Pisa, in Guicciardin's History. If some one, that is overfond of Life can weather-out so mortal a Lassitude, instead of recovering himself by some pleasurable diver­sion, he finds no change, but pre­sently meets with another dread­ful bus'ness, which makes him despair, and think of nothing but a State of Separation, and that is the Doctor. To describe well the folly of a Doctor, I know, it must be done in such sort, that he turn all his discourse and Conversa­tion upon the science, wherewith he is possest [even in the worst [Page 26] sense of the word;] and that he never answer to what is said to him, but quote a Thousand Au­thors, and alledge a Thousand Passages with such a nimbleness of Tongue, as shall put him out of breath: This is to introduce a fool on the Stage, that ought to be chain'd up in Bethlehem, and not rightly to manage the Impertinence of a Doctor.

Petronius has taken quite ano­ther way in his ridiculing Eumol­phus. The Pedantry of Sidias is otherwise handled by Theophil, to whom the Praise is due of know­ing how to form the most Accom­plish't character, that is bestow'd upon this sort of Pedants. That of Charitides in Moliere's Facbeux is altogether just: Nothing, can be taken from it without disfigur­ing the Picture. And these are the Learnedly-ridiculous Crea­tures, whose representation would please the Pic.

[Page 27]But 'tis a bad divertisement to a Man of sense, this, to bring him a Wretched Doctor, whom Books have made a fool, and who ought very carefully to be lockt up (as I said) lest the World should see the weak and mean es­tate of Mans Condition, and the Misery of humane nature.

Now, that I may not stretch too far my Observations on the Italian Comedy, and to sum up all, I have display'd, in a few words; I say that, instead of agreeable Lo­vers, you have only affected dis­coursers about Love; instead of natural Comedians, incomparable Buffoons, but always Buffoons; and instead of ridiculous Doctors, poor little Insensate School-masters. Not one Person is there, but is clearly over-do [...]; that of Panta­lon only excepted, who is the least taken notice of in the Play, and yet the only thing, that does [Page 28] not out go the veri-simile.

Tragedy was the first pleasure of the Ancient Republick; and the old Romans, being Masters only of a severe and stern Vertue, went to the Theatre with no other de­sign than to fortify their natural courage, and to acquire and en­tertain rugged and austere Habi­tudes of Mind. When they be­gan to add a sweetness of Wit in Conversation to a force and Vi­gor of Soul in great things; they also took a delight in Comedy, and sometimes would have strong I­deas set before their Eyes, and sometimes divert 'emselves in pleasing Impressions.

As soon as Rome came to be corrupted, the Romans quitted Tragedy, and could not endure to behold any Image of the Ancient Vertue, [or Valour, for Vertue signifies nothing else,] on the Stage.

From those days to the last of [Page 29] the Common-wealth, Comedy was the Recreation of Great Men, the divertisement of Polite Per­sons, and the amusement of a People either Remiss or Soft'ned.

A little before the Civil War, the Spirit of Tragedy began to animate the Romans, by a secret disposition of a Genius, that pre­par'd 'em for the dreadful Revo­lutions happening afterwards. Cae­sar wrote one, and many Persons of Quality wrote some likewise: But the disorders being calmed under Augustus, and Peace and tranquillity Re-established, Plea­sure was the only thing, they hunted after.

Then came Comedies into Play again, the Pantomimes were Men in vogue and credit; and Tragedy made a shift to keep up her Repu­tation. Under Nero's Reign, Se­neca imbib'd fatal Ideas, which made him compose the Tragedies [Page 30] that he has left us: And when corruption was in full Sway, and Vice general and A-la-mode, the Pantomimes did utterly destroy both Tragedy and Comedy. No longer now had Wit any part in the Stage-representations, and on­ly the sight did seek, in Postures and motions, that which might im­print Voluptuous Phantasms on the Soul of the Spectators.

At this day the Italians bless 'emselves for being shone upon by the same Sun, for breathing the same Air, and inhabiting the same good Land, that the old Ro­mans dwelt in heretofore: But they have e'en very wisely left that wicked rigid Virtue of those Romans to their Histories, and have be­liev'd, that they (good Men) have no need of Tragedy, to encourage them to those difficult things, which they have no mind to do. As they love the indulgent com­forts [Page 31] of an ordinary and un-fight­ing life, and the pleasures of a Voluptuous one, they desire to form such representations, as a­gree both with the one and the o­ther: And this was the Origine of the mixture of Comedy and the Pantomimick Art together, which we see in the Italian Theater.

All the Actors, that play now, are generally very excellent, even those that play an amorous part: And not to do them an injury, a­ny more than shew them any fa­vour, I will say, they are very good Astors, but have very bad Comedies; and perhaps they cou'd make good ones, and perhaps they have reason not to make such. And one day telling Cintsio, in a slurring way, that there was not Veri-similitude enough in their Pieces, he answer'd me, that, if there were more, I should soon see my good Comedians dye o' Famine [Page 32] with their good Comedies.

§ Of the English COMEDY.

THere is no Comedy more con­ormable to that of the An­tients, than the English, in what respects the manners. It is not pure and sincere Galantry full of Adventures and amorous discourses, as in Spain and France; but the representation of humane life in common, according to the diver­sity of Humors, and several Cha­racters of Men. 'Tis an Alchimist who, by the illusions of his Art, entertains the deceitful hopes of a vain curioso: 'Tis a simple and Credulous Person, whose foolish easiness is eternally abus'd: 'Tis sometimes a ridiculous Politician, Grave, starcht, and compos'd; who plucks up his Should­ers, [Page 33] and pinks with his Eyes at e­very thing, being most mysteri­ously suspicious; and who fancies he can find designs hidden in the most common Intentions, and thinks to discover Artifice in the most innocent actions of Life: 'Tis a foolish Lover, a false Bra­vo, an unthinking great Clerk, the one with his natural Extra­vagancies, and the other with his ridiculous Affectations. Indeed these Cheats, these simpletons, this Polititian, with the other Charac­ters, being ingeniously form'd, are carried on too far according to Frenchmen's Opinions, as those of the French Theater lye somewhat heavy on the Stomach of an En­glishman. And the reason hereof is, perhaps, that the English think too much, and most com­monly the French think not e­nough.

In effect, the French content [Page 34] 'emselves with the first Images received from Objects: And to stop them at the meer Out-sides of things, an appearance almost al­ways serves instead of truth; and what is easy, for that which is natural. And here I shall say, up­on the by, that these two last Qualities are sometimes confound­ed together very ill to the pur­pose. What is easy, and what's natural, agree sufficiently in their opposition to what is hard or forc'd: But when the French go about to dive into the nature of things, or the natural disposition of Per­sons, every Man will confess, that they do not always easily at­tain their end: There is some Internal thing, something hidden, which they would discover, if they wou'd plumb matters a little deeper. In as much difficult as it is for the French to enter things, so much h [...]rd a bus'ness do the [Page 35] English find it to get out: They never leave off thinking, till they become Masters of the thing on which they think; and when they comprehend their subject, they dig still, where nothing is to be found, and surpass the just and natural I­dea, which they ought to have, by an over-profound inquiry.

To speak the truth, I never met with people of better under­standing than the French, who give attention to consider, and the English, that can break off, from their too great Meditations, to re­turn to an easiness of discourse and a certain Liberty of Mind, which we ought always, if it be possible, to enjoy. Men of the best sense in the World are the French that think, and the English that speak. I am insensibly casting my self into too general considerations, and therefore shall resume my sub­ject concerning Comedy again, and [Page 36] pass to a considerable distinction and difference betwixt the En­glish and French sock: And that is, that the French, being tyed up to the regularity of the Ancients, refer all to one principal action, without any other diversity, than that of the means, whereby they think to bring it about.

We are all to agree in this point, that one principal event ought to be the only scope and end of the Representation in a Tragedy, wherein the mind wou'd suffer some violence in such divertings, as would turn its thoughts aside.

The misfortunes of a miserable King, the fatal and tragical death of a great Heroe, hold the Soul strongly chain'd up to these im­portant Objects; and instead of all the variety in the World it is satisfi'd with knowing the differ­ent means that lead to this prin­cipal action. But Comedy, being [Page 37] made to divert us, and not whol­ly to seize us, provided that like­lyhood be kept and Extravagance avoided, in the opinion of the English, the diversities are pleasing surprizes and agreeable Alterati­ons; whereas the continual ex­pectation of the same thing, wherein nothing of importance can be conceiv'd, must necessa­rily create a faintness in our atten­tion.

So that, instead of representing an eminent and signal Imposture carryed on by means that refer all to the same end, they represent a Famous Cheat with his hundred several tricks, every one of which produces its particular effect ac­cording to its proper Constitution. As they almost always renounce Vnity of Action to represent a principal Person, who diverts 'em with different Actions; so they likewise forsake this Principal [Page 38] Person, to let you take a prospect diverse ways of what happens in publick places to many Persons: Ben. Johnson has taken this course in his Bartholomew Fair: The same thing we see in Epsoam Wells: And in both Comedies are comi­cally represented the ridiculous passages in both those places.

There are other Pieces, where (as it were) a couple of Subjects do so ingeniously commix one with the other, as that the mind of the audience (which might be wound­ed by an over-sensible change) finds nothing but pleasure in that diverting Variety, which they produce. We must confess, that this is not according to Law and Rule: But the English are per­suaded, that the Liberties, which are allowed for the greater Plea­sure, ought to be prefer'd before such exact Rules, as every barren and sleepy Author can make an Art [Page 39] of plaguing others withal.

To avoid confusion, we ought to observe Rules and directions, and to follow true judgment and good sense, which may allay the heat of an inflamed imagination: Yet we are to undress those Rules of all tormenting constraint, and to banish a scrupulous reason, which thorough too close embracing of justness, leaves nothing free and natural behind it.

Those whom Nature has sent into the World without a Genius, being never able to give it to 'emselves, allow all to Art which they can acquire: and, that their servile observation of regularity may not go without its due merit, they never forget to decry a work, which is not perfect cap­ [...]pe. As for those that love ridi­culing; that take a pleasure in spying the blind sides of the black Eyes of the Town; that are de­lighted [Page 40] with true Characters; t [...]ey will find the English Come­dies excellent and right for their tast and purpose, as far, and (it may be) more than any they have ever seen.

The French Moliere, into whom the Ancients inspir'd the true Spi­rit of Comedy, equalls their Ben. Johnson in admirably representing the several humors and different manners of Men, both of them in their respective paintings, keeping a just regard to the genius of their Nation. I shou'd believe that, in this point, they were as much out, as the Antients: But we cannot deny, but that they had more regard to the Characters than the main subjects, whose suc­cessive Inferences also might have been better tyed together, and the laying 'em out naked much more natural.

§ Of OPERA'S, Written to his Grace The Duke of Buckingham.

IT's a long time, MY LORD, since I have had a desire to tell you my Opinion concerning Opera's, and to write to you a­bout the difference, which I find betwixt the manner of singing among the Italians, and that a­mong the French.

The cccasion, that I had to speak of it, in company with Madam the Dutchess of Maza­rine, has rather encreas'd than satisfi'd that desire: Which I now do at length satisfy, in this Discourse, which I here send you, My Lord.

[Page 42]I will begin with great Free­dom, and tell you, that I do not much admire Comedies in Musick, such as we see 'em at present. I confess, their Magnificence abun­dantly pleases me, and the Ma­chines carry a great deal of surprize; the Musick at certain times is very moving, and the whole thing taken together appears almost Miracu­lous: But we must likewise con­fess, that these Miracles and wonders are very troublesom; be­cause where the mind has so little to do, there is an unavoidable necessity, that the senses will fall a languishing. After the first plea­sure of the surprize, the Eyes are busily employ [...]d, and after­wards are continually fixt upon some objects. At the beginning of the consorts, the Justness of Ac­cords is observ'd, and there es­capes nothing of all the diversities, which concurs not to make up [Page 43] the sweetness of Harmony: But sometime after, the Instruments deafen us, and the Musick is noth­ing to our ears but a confused Noise, where nought can be distinguish'd: Now, who can resist the tediousness of a Recita­tive in a modulation, which has neither the charm of a Singing, nor the pleasant force of Speech? The Soul, being wearied out with long Attention, where it can find nothing to think on, looks after some secret motion in it self, that may affect it: The mind, that is vainly urg'd upon by im­pressions from without; lets it self fly at Rovers, or else is dissatisfi'd with its own Impertinence: In brief, the Tiresomeness is so great, that a man dreams of nothing but going out, and the only plea­sure, remaining to the drooping Spectators, is the hopes to see the shew done very soon. The or­dinary [Page 44] drousiness, whereinto I fall at an Opera, proceeds hence, That I never saw one, but it ap­pear'd very contemptible to me, or in the disposal of the subject, or in the verses. Now 'tis in vain, that flattered is the Ear, or the Eyes are charm'd, unless the mind be satis­fi'd. My Soul being of Intelli­gence with my mind, rather than with my senses, shapes in it self an opposition to the Impressions, which it may receive; Or at least, it fails to lend a willing and agreeable Consent, without which even the most voluptuous object cannot afford any great pleasure. A Foppery beset with Musick, Dances, Machines and Scenes, is a magnificent Foppery, yet still its a Foppery: Its a pitiful mean thing under glorious out-sides, which I look into with much un­willingness. There is another thing in Operas so much against nature, that [Page 45] my Imagination is offended with it, and that is to make the whole Stage do nothing but sing from the beginning to the end; as if the Persons represented, were bound most ridiculously, in Musick to treat of both the most common and most important affairs of their Lives. Can any Man fancy, that a Master should call his Servant, or give him orders for such or such things, while he is singing? that one Friend should declare a secret to another in a Song? that Men should deliberate in a Privy Councel Singing? or, that they should melodiously kill one ano­ther in a Duel? This destroys the Wit of the Representation which, questionless, is Preferable to that of the Harmony; since Harmony ought only to be a meer attendant, and the great Masters of the Theater have added it as a pleasant, but not as a necessary [Page 46] thing, after all has been rightly ordered, which regards the sub­ject and discourse. However in Opera's the Idea of the Musician goes far beyond that of the He­roe: 'Tis Lovigi, Cavallo, and Cesti, that present themselves to our imagination. The mind, be­ing unable to conceive an Heroe in a Songster, is wholly affixt on him that sings; and no body can deny, but that at the representa­tion of the Palais Royal, [we] dream an hundred times on Bap­tist to once on Theseus or Cadmus. Yet nevertheless, I do not pre­tend to exclude all sort of Singing on the Stage. There are such things as ought to be sung, and may be, without any offence to de­cency or reason: Vows, Prayers, and Praises, and generally every thing, relating to the service of the Gods, have been sung in all Nations and at all times. Tender and dolorous [Page 47] Passions are naturally expressed in a sort of singing: The utterance of an amour just in its birth, the irresolution of a Soul, tost and tum­bled with several motions, are fit matter for Stanza's, and Stanza's will do well enough for a Song. Every one knows, that Choirs were brought upon the Athenian Stage; and we must confess, that they may, with as much reason, be introduced upon ours. So that this is the distinction, which I make, whatever belongs to con­versation and conference, what­ever concerns Intrig [...]es and affairs, whatever appertains to Counsel or Action, is proper to be recited by Comedians, and ridiculous in the mouth of a Musician. The Greeks made excellent Tragedies, wherein some part was sung: But the Italians and French make wretched ones, where they sing all. If you would know what an [Page 48] Opera is, it is nothing else but a fan­tastical piece of Drudgery mrde up of Poetry and Musique; where the Poet and Musician being equally rackt one by the other, do take a great deal of pains to make a dull piece of Work. Not but that you may find very pleasant words, and very good Airs: But most assuredly you will at last be dis­gusted at the Verses, in which the Poets Genius has been mightily strain'd and confin'd, and the Mu­sicians and Singers quite exhausted and spent by so tedious a labour. If I were fit to give advice to our Men of sense, that take much delight in the Stage, I should di­rect them, to resume our best Comedies into their hands, where Dances and Musick might be in­troduced, that would not spoil the Play. The Prologue might be sung with very pleasant Attendances: In the Chorus's a Song would a­nimate [Page 49] such words as might seem to be the very Soul of what is Acted. And then, the Epilogue might be sung, or some Reflection on the greatest Beauties in the Play: The Idea and shaddow might be enhanced and strengthen­ed, and the Impression more cle­verly and lastingly made on the Spectators minds. 'Tis thus we may find satisfaction for the mind and senses, while we cannot any more desire the charm of Singing in a pure Representation, nor the Vi­gour of a Representative in the drowsiness of continual Musick. It remains still behind, that I should give some directions for all those Comedies, wherein Singing is put: which is to leave the main Autho­rity to the Poet for the manage­ment of the Piece: The Musick should be made rather for the Verse, than the Verse for the Mu­sick; it belongs to the Musician [Page 50] to follow the Poets Order; from which course only Baptist, in my Opinion, ought to be exempt, for his understanding the Passions bet­ter and sinking farther into Mens Hearts than the Authors them­selves. Lambert, undoubtedly, has an excellent Genius, fit for an hundred several sorts of Musick, and all are well managed with a Righteous Oeconomy of Voices, and Instruments; there is no Re­citati [...]e better extended nor better varied than his: But as to the na­ture of the Passions, and the qua­lity of Sentiments to be exprest, he ought to receive that light from the Authors, which Baptist is a­ble to give them himself, and not to refuse direction, tho Baptist through the vast comprehensive­ness of his knowledge may very fitly be the director. To my dis­course I will not put an end with­out entertaining you with that [Page 51] small esteem, the Italians have for our Operas, and the great dislike we bear to those of Italy. The I­talians being altogether imployed about the representation, and particular care of expressing things, cannot endure the French should call an Opera a concatenation of Dances and Musique, which have no just Affinity, nor natural cor­respondence with the subject. The French being accustom'd to the Beauty of their Scene-openings, the pleasantness of their Airs, and the charm of their symphonies, do with much passive valour bear with the ignorant brutishness or wicked use of Instruments in the Venetian Operas, and refuse At­tention to a long Recitative, that becomes troublesome by the little Variety, we meet with in it. I can not tell you properly what is their Recitative: It is something un­known to the Ancients, which we [Page 52] may define a bad use of Song and Speech. I confess, I have found inimitable things in Lovigi's Ope­ra's both in the expression of thoughts and the charm of Musique: But the ordinary Recitative was extream tiresom, insomuch as the Italians did even impatiently ex­pect those quaint Passages, that came very rarely in their Opinion. The greatest defects in the French Ope­ras, I will comprise in few words: They think to come to a represen­tation, where they will find no­thing represented; they go to see a Comedy, where no Spirit or shade of a Comedy is to be seen. This is what I had to say con­cerning the different constitution of Opera's. As to the manner of Singing, call'd in France, Execu­tion, I believe without partiality, that no Nation can reasonably dispute with it. The Spaniard is admirably well dispos'd in his [Page 53] Wind-pipe, bu [...] with his quaverings and rowlings, he seems to aim at nothing else than to triumph over the easy Throat of the Nightin­gale. The Italian he has a false ex­pression (or at least tis overdone) not knowing exactly the nature or degree of the Passions: He breaks out into laughter rather than Sings, when he wou [...]d express some sen­timent of Joy: If he wou'd sigh, you hear such sobs as are violent­ly form'd in the Throat, and not such sighs as secretly escape from the Passion of an amorous Heart: At a dolorous Reflection, you hear the Lowdest Exclamations; Tears of absence become Fune­ral-wailings; and the Melancholly Man becomes so sorrowful in their Mouths, that they send forth cries instead of complaints in grief; and sometimes they express a languishment of Passion by a swoon of nature. Perhaps the Italians [Page 34] have now made some alteration in their way of Singing, and better'd 'emselves by a commerce with the French as to the neatness of a Po­lite Execution, as the latter have drawn advantage from them in the Beauties of a greater and more bold composition. I have seen Co­medies in England, where there has been rouch Musique: But to speak of 'em with dscretion, is impossible for me, since I cou'd not fashion my self to the English Singing. Too late I came to take a Relish so different from any other. There is no Nation, where appears more courage in the Men, or more Beauty in the Women, or more wit in either Sex. We cannot have every thing, where so many goood qualities are so common: 'tis not so great an e­vil, that the true tast should be so rare; and certain it is, we meet with it very seldom there. But [Page 55] those Persons, in whom we find it, have it as nice and delicate as any people in the World, escap­ing the common Misfortune of their own Nation by an exquisite Air and most happy natural parts. Solus Gallus cant at, only the Moun­sieur Sings: I would not be inju­rious to all other Nations by main­taining what an Author has been pleas'd to promote: Hispanus f [...]et, dolet Italus, Germanus boat, Flander ululat, & Solus Gallus cantat: To him I leave all these cunning distinctions, and think it enough to found my Opinion on the authority of Louigi, who could never endure the Italians should sing Airs, after he had heard 'em sing at M. Nyert, Hi­laire, and la petite Var [...]nne. At his return into Italy, he made all the Musicians, of that Nation, his Enemies, by saying openly at Rome, as he had done at Paris, [Page 56] tha [...], to make the Musick pleasant, the Italian Airs should be put into French-mens Mouths: He made very little account of French Songs, excepting Beausset's, which he lov'd particularly. He admir'd the concert of [our] Violins; he ad­mired our Lutes, our Claricords, and Organs: He was ravisht to hear, the first time, the great Bells of St. Germain des Prez: And what charm might not he have found in our Flutes, if they had been in use at that time? This is certain, he was mightily dis­heartned and dissatisfi'd with the rudeness and harshness of the greatest Masters of Italy, when he had tasted the tender way of move­ing, and the neatness and manner of the French. I should be too partial, if I spoke only of [our] Excellencies: There is no Peo­ple, that have a more slow appre­hension both as to the sound of the [Page 57] words and the mind of the Compositor as the French: Very few there are, that understand the quantity less, and with more trouble find out the Pronunciation: but after long studying has made 'em over­co [...]e all those difficulties, and they come once to comprehend what they sing, nothing comes near them. The same thing be­falls 'em in Instruments and par­ticularly in consorts, where no­thing is very sure or just but after infinite Repetitions; yet nothing so neat and handsome, when the Repetitions are done. The Itali­ans go deep into Musique, and bring their Science to our Ears without any sweetness. The French are not satisfi'd with taking away from the Science the first rough­ness, which smells of labour in Composition: But also in the secret of Execution they find a charm for our Souls, and something in [Page 58] it self so moving, that makes it's way to our Hearts. I had forgot to talk with you concerning Ma­chines; so easy is it, to forget such things, as we would have retrench'd. Machines may satisfy the curiosity of Ingenious Men in Mathematical Inventions, but upon the Stage they can never please Persons of true judgment. The more surprizing they are, the more do they divert the mind from its attention to discourse: And the more admirable they ap­pear, the i [...]pression of this admi­ration doth leave the Soul the less exquisite sense and tenderness, which it has need of to be affected or charm'd by the Musick. The Ancients us'd Machines only up­on necessit [...] to fetch in some deity or other, tho the Poets were al­most always laught at for letting themselves be reduc'd to such a straight. If a Man hath a mind to [Page 59] be at any expence and charge, let him open his Purse-strings upon handsom Scenes, the use of which is more natural and pleasant than that of Machines. Antiquity, that exposed its Godheads to Poets, and even on hearths; this same Anti­quity (I say) as vain and credu­lous as it was, yet did very seldom expose them on the Stage. After the destruction of their Creed, and Mortals trusting in 'em, the Ita­lians, in their Opera's, reviv'd and setled, the Heathen Gods again in the World, and fear'd not to possess Men with those ridiculous Vanities, provided they gave a great Splendor to their pieces by the introducing that false and daz­ling kind of wonderment. These Theatre-divinities abus'd Italy a long time: but at length being happily undeceived it renounc'd these Gods, whom it had restor'd; and it return'd to such things, as [Page 60] tho really they were not exactly true, yet were less troublesom, and such as good sense with a little In­dulgence would not reject. In the case of Gods and Machines it has happen'd to the French, what al­most ever happens to the Al­mains in Gallican modes; the French take up what the Italians leave: And as if [we] wou'd repair the fault of having been prevented in the Invention, we car­ry on the humor of a custom or mode even to excess, which they had brought in for no good in the World, but manag'd it with re­serve and moderation. In effect, we cover the Earth all o'r with God-ships; and make 'em dance, and descend in troops, whereas they made 'em come down with some sort of managment to the most important occasions. As Ari­osto outflew the most wonderful [...]blimities of Poetry by his incre­dible [Page 61] Fables, we out-do all Fable by a confus'd Assembly of Gods, Shepherds, Heroes, Enchanters, Phantomes, Furies, and Devils. I admire Baptist as well for his or­dering Dances, as for that which concerns Voices and Instruments: But the constitution of our Opera's ought to appear very Extrava­gant to those that have a true tast of Verisimilitude and things marvel­lous, yet a Man runs the hazard of being cry'd down for his true tast, if he dares make it publick: And I advise others, when they hear a­ny discourse about Opera's, to keep their own thoughts secret to them­selves. As for my self, who have now past the Age and time of sig­nalizing my self in the World, by the humor of modes and merit of fancies, I am resolv'd to take the side of good sense [as much aban­don'd and forlorn as it is] and to follow reason in all her disgraces [Page 62] with as much Loyalty, as if she had now her first consideration. That which vexes me the most for the giddiness of Pate, where­with Men run after Operas, is, that they will ruin the best thing we have, the most proper to ele­vate the Soul, and most capable to form a true wit. So that we will conclude, after so long a dis­course, that the constitution of Operas can hardly be more defec­tive than they are.

The End.

EPICURUS HIS MORALS·

MOst Men, no doubt, find fault with Epicurus and reject his Doctrine, not only as unworthy of a Philosopher, but as dangerous to a Citizen, imagin­ing a Man Vicious as soon as he is of the number of his Disciples. On all occasions, they brand his Opinions, as opposite to good man­ners, and his name is blasted with shame and Infamy Yet some Sto­icks, who were his greatest Ene­mies, have not used him so roughly; their Eulogys accord not with the publick Aspersions ▪ they [Page 64] have combated him, without out­raging him; and the Books they have left us, still speak, in several Passages, the great value, they had for him. From whence then does this extream difference pro­ceed, And why are we no lon­ger of the same Opinion with the Sages? It's very easy to give the reason; we do not act like them, we make no enquiry, we do not sift matters, we adhere only to what is told us, without instruct­ing our selves in the nature of things; we account those the best, which have most examples and approvers: And we do not follow reason, but only its resem­blance, we retain our errors, be­cause they are authoriz'd by those of others: We love rather to be­lieve than judge; and we are so unjust, that we defend against reason, the spurious opinions that have come down to us. Thus this [Page 65] infirmity is one of those, which hath made Epicurus fall under the publick Aversion, and which has almost egg'd on all Men to strike him out of the List of Phi­losophers: They have condemn'd him without knowing him, and have banish'd him, without hear­ing him; they would not pry in­to the merits of his cause, and seem to have been afraid of his making his own justification. But in my opinion, the first and most reasonable pretence, that Men had to slight his Doctrine, was the life of some Vicious Wretches, who having abus'd the name of that Philosopher, corrupted the reputation of his Sect. These People have giv'n their Vices the inscription of his Wisdom: They have popt their defects into the Bosom of his Philosophy; and flock'd in vast multitudes to places, where they understood Pleasure was com­mended. [Page 66] The mischief was, they did not throughly apprehend that pleasure and those praises: They rested satisfy'd with its name in general, and veil'd and defended their Debaucheries, and courted the Authority of a great Man to support the Lewdness of their own lives, so as instead of profiting by the good Instructions of that Philosopher, and in his School, correcting their own evil Inclina­tions, they have even lost that, which cou'd only be left'em, nam­ly the shame of tripping. They are come to that pass as to fall extol­ling Actions, whereat they blusht before; they have glory'd in the Vices, they conceal'd, & [in short] have follow'd without any shame the pleasure they brought along with them, and not that which was endeavoured to be inculcat­ed into them. In the mean while, the Wor [...]d had judged upon appear­ances; [Page 67] and seeing that those per­sons, who st [...]l [...]d themselves Phi­losophers, were extreamly disso­lute; that they made a publick profession of their failings, that they cited Epicurus to authorize their impurity, laziness, and glut­tony: This same World made no difficulty of pronouncing, that this Philosophers Doctrine was most pernicious, and of com­paring his Disciples to the vilest A­nimals in nature:

Epicuri de grege Porcum.

PEople would deal very unrea­sonably with Epicurus, and his affairs would be in a very ill pos­ [...]ure, if some had not been care­ful to put them to the Test, and separated 'emselves from that multitude, which has ever been [Page 68] an Enemy to all Wise Men and Sur [opinion d'autruy. upon an alien opi­nion condemned So­crates, tho approved of by the Gods. Thus they have met with some, who have taken Information of that Wise-mans Life, and without dwelling upon the belief of the vulgar, or the face of things, have penetrated farther and in the result of their research, given Testimonies of his Probity, and the Sanctity of his Doctrine.

After due knowledge, they Proclaimed his pleasure, as severe as the Stoicks vertue; that tho its title was delicate, its precepts were difficult, and to be debauched like Epicurus, a Man must be as sober as Zeno. And certainly its incre­dible, that a Person whose Coun­trey erected him several Statues; whose Friends swayed the Citys of Greece; who loved the Worship of the Gods and his Countreys [Page 69] good; who had piety towards his Parents, Liberality towards his [...]rethren, and gentleness for his Slaves; whose modesty kept him from tampering in the State, and Temperance made him common­ly only live on Bread and Wa­ter; its incredible (I say) that this Man should write the Precepts of Lewdness, or teach his Disci­ples the practise of the vices he naturally abhorred. On the con­trary, as if this excellent Perso­nage had apprehended, that the title he bestowed upon his Disci­pline, might foster the naughty inclinations of several, and that Men might fall to caluminate his pleasure: As if he had foreseen the unjust Hatred of following Ages, and the Lewd Life of those who should abuse his Doctrine, he took care himself to make its A­pology; he explained its *Comme elle ét [...]it sobre et Si [...]ne. great [Page 70] Thirst and sobriety, and banished from the Garden, where he Philosophized with his Friends, those, who abusing the name of pleasure were its corrupters, and who considered their own vices as the soveraign good of Man and tranquillity of Life. By no means will I that in this you pin your Faith upon my Sleeve; I will make him speak in his own per­son, and Ile show you one of his Letters. Thus he Writes to Me­necans.

Notwithstanding we say (these are his words) that pleasure is the end of Man, we do not mean vile and infamous pleasure, such as proceeds from the Tast and Gluttony: this unlucky opinion is of per­sons that are ignorant of or oppose our precepts and separate themselves from their Communion, or turn 'em into an ill sense.

[Page 71]So that you see, how careful he was of having a defence ready a­gainst ignorance and ill opinion; that he believed there were only those two things capable of decry­ing him, and which indeed were, [as we have already said,] the only things, which ruined his re­pute among the greatest part of the World. His very Life tho discreet and sober, has not (how­ever) wanted to be attacqued by Invectives and detractions, but those who have written it, hav­ing recited the calumnies of his Enemies, have incontinently refut­ed them, and have not composed the History of that Philosopher, but at the same time they have made his Apology. As my de­sign is not to entertain you with his Actions, but only to defend his pleasure, Ile *And the En­ [...]lisher [pos­sibly wi [...]h more reason] t [...] the Learned Gassendus his Notes upon it, together with a la [...]ge account of Epicurus his Life, writ by the same Fa­mous French Philosopher. re­fer you to Diogenes Laertius for the re­lation [Page 72] of his Life and content my self with Philosophizing with you upon the Nature of that Plea­sure, that has so ma­ny Enemies; and we will examine whether it be such as to exclude, out of the rank of good, and wise Men, those who defend and follow it. Living ac­cording to Nature, and not having any sensation of Pain, is what Epicu­rus calls living pleasantly. Me­thinks herein there is nothing to be taxed; and such a Life has no need of censors; and there is no Government so severe in the World, as can disapprove any thing in this position. Following Nature is following Reason; the bounds nature has prescribed are those of Inno [...]ence; there is nothing in nature but what is just and equitable. [Page 73] From nature it is not, that Avarice came: she has concealed Gold in the Bowels of the vilest Element, and we have torn it thence: Nature was not the cause of Ambition which tor­ments us: It brought us into the World, and with equality sends us out thence packing. We only dif­fer from one another, in as much as we corrupt it. We eye at the same time, both Liberty and the Sun: servitude was introduc'd by violence; and the first Kings were Tyrants. Is it nature [think you] which prompts to delights? The Poets themselves, who have foisted defects into the very Hea­v'ns, to screen their own blun­ders with examples, and made Ju­piter wicked, that they might be so themselves, durst not own such a thought. They have pre­serv'd it's purity intire, and have not couch'd in the description of [Page 74] its own, that is to say, the Golden Age, the Luxury of others, that succeeded it. Do but hear 'em talk; They'le tell you, that A­corns were then Mens Food, that Rivers squench'd their thirst, that they dwelt in Caverns, that they had no Cloaths, which de­fended them against the cold, and that they follow'd Nature in all their Actions. I'le willingly own, that there was never such a constitution of things, and that Men were never reduc'd to the Villany of Brutes; the Poets have push'd on their fiction much far­ther, but at least they were wil­ling to let us understand, that our excess proceeded not from nature: that she does not advise us to them, and that it is not nature, which says,

Ales Phasiacis petita Colchis,
Atque Afr [...] Volucres placent Palato;
Quod non sunt faciles;

[Page 75]And that in fine, 'tis we, who abuse the Gifts of Heav'n and the advantages, it confers upon us. How then to live according to nature, must a Man abstain from the things, that are submitted to him, and of which she has appoint­ed him Lord? This I do not say, I rather say, we ought to use 'em, provided we use 'em ac­cording to nature. We must use things in such sort, as that we may be without them, we must be their Masters, and not their Slaves; we must not grow impa­tient for 'em, nor be cast down for their loss; lets enjoy 'em peaceably, when occasion is offered, and not pursue 'em with disquiet and turmoil. There's no condition, but what's becoming the Wise Man: So as I shall never blame a Philosopher for inhabiting a Pa­lace, but in not having the power to be contented with a Cottage. I [Page 76] shall not be scandaliz'd at seeing him in the Robes, if he has not the Ambition of a King; Let Aristippus possess the Riches of Craesus, what matter? He'le throw 'em away, when they in­commode him; let Plato be at De­nis's the Tyrants Table, yet in the midst of that abundance of delicacies, he will eat sometimes only Olives: We do not damn the Possession of goods, we damn their servitude; it is not Poverty will make us wise, it may purge away, indeed, the desire of com­mitting certain faults, but there are others, which it cannot remedy. The Cynicks rags contribute not the least to tranquillity or modera­tion; Ambition follows Diogenes into his very Tub, and there it was he had the confidence to com­mand Alexander the haughtiest of all Mankind. All that comes from us, will be indifferent, if we [Page 77] have moderation of mind, that is to say, if we are wise, and follow nature. Very true it is, that there is more difficulty, in following nature in abundance, than in neces­sity, and that the Spurs, which our delights use to try our modera­tion, are much more keen than those adversity employs for that purpose: But still there is much more glory in surmounting them, and the loss of false joys secures much better the Possession of real ones. We are not sensible of the felicity which costs us nothing, and for which we are endebted to chance; it must be giv'n us by Wisdom; and trouble sometimes must usher us to pleasure ▪ A Man, who at the Olympick Games, should be in the Lists with a design to try his skill, if no body stood forth, might possibly be Crowned, but ne­vertheless, that would not render him Victorious. Storms and Tem­pests [Page 78] are what procure reputation to Pilots, and if Penelopes Chastity had not been try'd, some might have said of her, it only wanted corrupters: Wherefore, let's not fly the World, let's not fly the Court, let's not sculk in the De­sarts, from whence Philosophy fetcht the Primitive Mankind; let's possess Riches, let us not re­fuse to enter upon Publick Offices; if we are Wise, we may enjoy these things without any danger, we shall Sail happily amid those Rocks, we shall eye all this with an unconcern'd look: And if we be stript of it, we shall testify by not looking back upon't, that we despise and were not wedded to it. It is a shame in the Wise Man to fly, and to be more feeble than such desires, which being unna­tural, have no other credit but what is acquired them by opinion. This is [in part] the pleasure of [Page 79] the Epicureans, this is what they call, to live according to nature: This is their Doctrine, and these their Sentiments. Consider now whether this Opinion merits our odium, and see whether we have reason to despise it; Whether their Pleasure Pimps to Debauch­eries and Excesses, and whether than is there be any thing more sober or more Chast? Ask you me Epicurus, what is it to live volup­tuously? He will answer you, that is is not the having a fondness for Worldly concerns; that it is resist­ing evil desires, contemning Ho­nour, getting the Mastery of For­tune, and that it is (in a word) possessing absolutely Peace and Repose of Mind. Hereat are levelled all his Precepts; here you meet with pleasure, and here it is indeed, we ought to seek it, not in the satisfaction of the senses, nor in the emotion of the Appetites. It is too [Page 80] pure to depend on the body, it depends on the Intellectual part: [...]eason is its Mistress, reason is its rule, the senses are only its Minis­ters: And besides, what delights soever we may hope for in in­dulging a revelling Palate, in the Pleasures of the sight, in Perfumes and Musick, if we do not ap­proach those things with a calm mind, we shall be d [...]ceived, we shall fall under the delusion of a false joy, and take the shadow of Pleasure for its real body. We will burn [if you please] all the Wood of Arabia the happy; we will closet up our selves with Ve­nus, we will live on Nectar and Ambrosia; we will enjoy the Pleasure the Poets have imagin'd; all this will prove bitter, if we are under disquiet; and our Pec­vishness will force us to complain in the midst of these delights. Ile give you an instance of this Asser­tion, [Page 81] and shew you, how much a Man is uncapable of Pleasure, when his mind is in trouble. You have read of the Feast, which Tigellinu [...] made Nero; and you may remember that great De­bauch the Renown of whose Lux­ury has lasted to our Age. It seems to have been the last effort of sumptuousness and delicacy, and that sensuality has not been able to make any farther Progress. Agrippa's Pond was pitcht on for this extraordinary repast, it was made upon a stately Barque, which being drawn by a great many o­thers seemed of it self insensibly to move: All these Barges ap­peared enrich'd with Gold and Ivory. Many lovely Youths were the Rower [...] or rather so many Cupids. The tast knew no Fowle, but what it was furnished with at that entertainment: The Ocean provided it with Fish, and [Page 82] the Provinces of the Empire with diversity of Meats. In short, all appeared with huge daintiness and abundance. I omit speaking of the infamous Houses erected upon the Banks, which were stock'd with Women of great Quality; and I will forget the Courtizans there seen stark naked. The Night it self contributed to the Pleasure of this Debauch; its shades were combated by an infi­nity of Lights, and its silence agree­ably disturb'd by the Harmony of several consorts. Would you know, what delight Nero took in all these things, and if he de­parted satisfied from this Ban­quet? You need only imagin, that he carried with him thither the memory of his c [...]imes and the re­morses of his conscience, and you will make no difficulty of conclud­ing, that despair accompanied him to that Entertainment, that [Page 83] he there felt the Penitential Whip, and that tho his outside had the face of a triumph, he acted in his mind a Bloody Tragedy. If he had any joy, it was that of the Mena­des: He was obliged for his Plea­sure to his fury or Drunkenness, and his happiness augmented with the diminution of his reason. I sup­pose the same thing of all those of his retinue, for I imagin there neither Seneca, nor Thraseas, Poe­tus, nor Bareas Soranus, who lived according to nature amidst the corruption of their Age, to be of the number of the Guests. Doubtless, such only were present as endear'd themselves to his conversation by a con [...]ruity of man­ners: Who egg'd him on in his crimes: Who were his Minist [...]rs, in 'em, and before whom he ought not to blush at least, sin the resemblance of the wicked, hinders their shame. Cert [...]inly, such [...] [Page 84] Riff-Raff were far from being hap­py; there was no finding a sound Man in all that Assembly: Plea­sure could not get admittance in­to those Bosoms, which excesses had intirely possessed.

Quemvis media erue Turba,
Aut ob avaritiam aut misera, am­bitionelaborat;
Hic Nuptarum insa [...]it amori bus, hic Puerorum.

In short, they were assaulted with all the ill passions, which destroy the repose of mind, and by consequence, were not in a State of relishing the Pleasure, we approve. I could wish that this Philosoper had been present at this Debauch, and that in the Eyes of the universe he had told his opi­nion; I am sure he'd have de­clar'd the truth before Nero's Face: He would not have dread­ed death, which he held indiffe­rent, [Page 85] and I imagin in this manner he'd have spoken:

‘Oh Wretched Prince! How art thou mistaken in believing, that pleasure is found in thy ex­cesses! It is as far remote from 'em as thou art from Lifes true happiness. Thou dragg'st thy unhappiness along in all places, where thou go'st, and do what thou wilt, thou can'st not sculk one moment from thy consci­ence. Thou may'st cover thy Ta­ble with Meats still more preci­ous than those it abounds with; tast the most delicious Wines of Greece and Italy, Sully thy self afterwards in all abominations, that Debauchery can invent; yet nothing wilt thou find in all this to afford thee satisfaction; and tho thy body were fill'd, thy mind wou'd still be in quest of Pleasure. These are not the [Page 86] things, which render Life hap­py; tis only Prudence, which composes the soveraign good; 'tis she alone which will teach thee to regulate thy desires according to NATURE, and in this Rule it i [...] thou wilt find what thou canst not meet with in thy disorders; If any thing be wanting, turn thy Eyes to­wards that common Mother; she will give thee wherewith easily to content thee. Art thou thirsty? She has every where plac'd Rivers and Springs, where thou may'st squench thy Thirst. Hungry? Places, where thou wilt find Fruits to live on. If thou art not satisfy'd with these things, thou wilt never be satisfy'd with all thy Excesses; consult thy Hunger and thy Thirst, they will make thee find delights in the simplicity of na­ture; and Bread and Water will [Page 87] serve thee instead of the best Dish upon Earth thou canst call to mind when thou art in neces­sity. Now that thou art not so, thou dost not give thy Stomach time to disgest Meats, thy intem­perance dayly engenders crudities; it advances the hour of that death, which Hobgoblings thee with so many apprehensions. Thus thou makest Feasts without their affording thee any Pleasure, be­cause thou constrain'st thy Na­ture, forcing it to obey thy De­sires: But know, thy Desires interfere with thy Nature, and the overflowings of thy Mind darken the light of thy Reason; wherefore, do not flatter thy self with tasting the Pleasures thou imagin'st: There's nothing bounded but in nature; all that is repugnant to nature is infinite, and consequently, above us. Ambitious Subjects aspire to [Page 88] Crowns: If they became Kings, they wou'd be the sole Monarchs of the World: Being Monarchs, they'd wish for Incense and Sacrifices, and the Fable of the Gyants informs us, that the Earth has dar'd to pretend to Heavens Dominion. It is so with other bad desires, no body can be happy but he who knows how to regu­late his desires. And as it only belongs to the Wise Man to un­dertake that Province, so it only belongs to him to command the universe. Only he can extract Pleasure out of all these things, and he alone uses Delights so­berly, and despises them in their Possession. For thy part, who dishonourest the race of Au­gustus, and art the Infamy of hu­man kind, over whom the an­ger of the Gods has given thee the command, do what thou list, thou wilt ever be un­happy? [Page 89] thy grief will backney thee at all moments, and in all places: Thou wilt never steal one minute from thy conscience: And in the midst of thy good cheer, thou wilt drink no Wine, but what will represent to thee the Innocents Blood, which thy cru­elty has shed on such or such an occasion.’ This is [if I be not mis­taken] what Epicurus wou'd have said; this is what he wou'd have alledged in Justification of his Phi­losophy, and thus wou'd he have reprov'd the Emperours Enormi­ties. But forasmuch as that 'tis impossible, that the mind [the Arbi­ter of Pleasure] should enjoy per­fect pleasure, if the body its Mi­nister endures any torment; Epicu­rus or rather truth teaches, that the privation of corporal pain, is necessary to the composition of that summum bonum, which the pleasure of the Sages does produce. [Page 90] And in truth, the alliance betwixt the mind and the flesh is so close, that it's very difficult to separate their pleasures and their su [...]ferings. The mind can scarce be sove­raignly happy, while Maladies af­flict the Body: The mind can scarce think of joy, while the vio­lence of pain tears from it com­plaints, or can the mind be sen­sible of pleasure, as long as it is in all parts, that undergo the as­saults of pain? Let the Stoicks boast as high as they please, the insensibility of their Sect, and that rigorous virtue, which makes a mock of pain, they'le find their bo­dy does not colten with their opi­nion, and that tho their discourses be magnificent & sublime, yet they are neither according to truth or humane nature. I will not prop this Proposition with the example of the Mobile of those Philosophers. I will not make use of a Name, [Page 91] they may scruple to receive, nor pitch on a Man, whose virtues may seem suspected by them. Her­cules alone shall bear testimony of what I urge; that Hercules, who is plac'd among the Gods, whom so many labours have rendred Fa­mous, and the Poets made choice of, for a perfect model of the force of their Wisdom. What if we take a view a while of that He­ro dying, and consider the last Actions of his Life? That Invin­cible Mans Congee will be doubt­less like his entrance, Illustrious in performing something Heroick. Certainly he will say nothing as may dishonour his Noble Actions, or seem unworthy of his former vir­tue. The strength of his pain gets the mastery over his courage: His Constancy yields to the ardour of the Venom,. which devours him; he does not only complain, he we [...]ps, he cries, he howls:

[Page 92]
At circum gem [...]nt petrae,
Locrorum & alta Eubaeae
Promont [...]ria.

And 'tis with the last effects of rage and despair, that he departs out of this Life to take his place among the Gods. Therefore, let the Sto­icks rank themselves in our party, let 'em tattle no longer of their insensibility, nor foist on us, that the Wise man may be happy amid Tortures, and let 'em not despise pain, to which Hercules himself was constrain'd to submit so many victories. But if it be answer'd, that the Poets were to blame for representing Hercules in this man­ner, and that in favour of that Hero, they are willing to rescue him from the Authority of Books, and the consent of Theatres: Possi­donius, formerly one of Cicero's Masters, and the greatest of all the Stoicks (for so he is stil'd by [Page 93] that disciple) will serve us for an illustrious example, we shall see a Pillar of the Porch stagger'd by a Disease. The Gout being the Malady of that Philosopher, was likewise the wrack of his constancy; he endur'd its violence as patient­ly as an ordinary Man would have done; and tho he upbraided pain, that all it's twinges pinches could not constrain him to own, that it was an evil; yet for all this it afflic­ted him, and made him complain. It seems too that Cicero was choqu'd, or at least astonisht at this wisemans weakness. I have seen, says he, Possidonius the greatest of the Sto­icks have as little power to undergo the pains of the Gout, as my Host Nicomachus, whom Tully account­ed a common sort of Fellow. And assuredly I am so far from be­lieving that true felicity can con­cur with pain, that I should esteem it the action of a Wise Man to part [Page 94] with his Life, if he could not separate it from pain. And because the Memory of Mecoenas is in great veneration with me, and in my Opinion he ought never to be mention'd but with Honour; I wi [...]h, if it were possible, that those Verses, which remain to us of him, had been stiss [...]d, and he had not informed us, that he was more wedded to Life, than became (I do not say a Philosopher, but only) a Man of Courage. You cou'd not have offer'd him any condition, so he might but live, but what he wou'd have accepted; were he deform'd? that's no matter; were he maim­ed? he'd find some consolation in living; let him endure all the Torments of the most violent Dis­tempers, he'd still be happy, if they were not mortal; and tho you shou'd have sentenc'd him to the most cruel of Deaths, he wou'd not consent to quit Life, provided he [Page 95] cou'd keep it amidst the Tortures of Executions.

Debilem faci [...]o mann,
Debil [...]m pede, coxa;
Tuber adstrue Gibberum;
Lubricos quate dentes;
Vita dum superest, bene est:
Hanc mihi vel acuta,
Si sedam Cruce, sustine.

Without doubt, Effeminacy dictated these Verses to him, while he tasted all the Pleasures of Life. He never had had any experience of pain, and had he fall'n into the ill condition he proposes, Death wou'd have been as welcome to him, as a Reprieve to a Criminal upon the Rack. It's easy by this to understand that M [...]caenas was voluptuous; but no Epicurean, since those Philosophers have too ge­n [...]rous a Soul to shrink to such fee­ble sentiments; they dread Death [Page 96] much less than pains, and some­times renounce Pleasure for very pain. And the reason is, that Epi­curus well judging that most Men being allured and corrupted by the fruition of pleasures, and suffering themselves without Rule, and blindly to be hurry'd away by the current of their Appetites, wou'd not be in a capacity to foresee the pains and afflictions, which wou'd fall upon 'em in conseq [...]ence of those disorders: And besides, fear­ing that the love of case and Effe­minacy of s [...]irit, joyn'd to the fear of pain and labour, might oblige them to be wanting in their Du­ties, and to render themselves useless in L [...]fe; he was of opinion, that in the time wherein a Wise man shou'd have full liberty of Election, and wherein nothing shou'd hinder him from procuring his own satisfaction, he might a­bandon himself to pleasure, and [Page 97] give a temporary Fare-well to Pain: But That then are cer­tain seasons, in which they must be Friends again, and during which the Obligation of Duties, and the Necessity of Things ought to con­strain him not to refuse Dolour, and to reject Voluptuousness.

'Twas this generous Maxim, that made Cato of Vtica his own Exe­cutioner: For, tho' he might have born himself up on the Mines of his Party, and Caesar wou'd have been mighty glad to grant him his Life; yet, the shame of surviving the Loss of the Publique Liberty, and the Infamy of Servitude, would not let that large Heart even deliberate, whether he should choose. the Pain of dying gloriously, to avoid the Pleasure of living af­ter a manner, that seem'd to him unworthy of a Roman. This Maxim it was, that made Regulus to re­put himself into the hands of his [Page 98] Enemies, where the Cruelties of his Tormentors were less s [...]nsible to him, than his Remorse would have been for having broken his word. 'Twas this Maxim, which making Fabricius to de­spise the Treasures of the King of Epeirus, made him also despise the evil desires, which fol [...]ow the possession of Riches, and preserve to himself the Repose of Mind, the sovereign and chiefest of Pleasures. Lastly, it was this Maxim, that set Cicero o' declaiming against Anthony, to devote himself for the safety of the Common-wealth at a time, when he might have stayed at home very fairly in Peace and quietly enjoy'd an easie Life, and the Delights of his own Studies.

To this Maxim there are no laudible Actions but what may be referr'd: And what Heroick Pea [...]s soever those great men have atchiev'd, you will find, that if [Page 99] they have run towards Pain, it hath been to avoid a much grea­ter, and contrariety, if they have not glanc'd upon some pleasures, it was by such an Abstinence, to ac­quire Others more satisfactory and solid. For, what other cause wou'd you have us ascribe to their Illu­strious Actions? Do you think, they would have so boldly left this Life? That they wou'd have turn'd their backs upon the posses­sion of Gold? That they would painfully hunt after very dangerous. Enmities? And, not consider at the same time, if what they did, was useful or agreeable to them? with this Censure, let us not be­spatter them: The Effects of their Wisdom let us not impute to the unruliness of their Mind, but be­lieve, that they consulted gene­rally themselves and their own Intellectuals upon their Actions: And let us not state them in a [Page 100] worse condition than the most sal­vage of Animals, which are never transported nor troubled in such a manner, but that it is easie to discover, what is the Aim of the Impetrosity of their Movements. Cato forsook that Life, which was become his Burthen; he found it less grievous to quit the World, than to obey Caesar, whom he be­lieves to be no good man, and he thought it more pleasant not to live at all, than to live in an igno­minious slavery. Regulus return'd to Carthage: If he had not done so, he had been accus'd of Perfi­diousness. Fabricius cou'd not be corrupted by Pyrrhus, in which he exerted his Integrity: He serv'd his Country, and in the single plea­sure of refusing Riches, he satisfied himself more than if he had ac­cepted all the Treasures of the Vniverse. In short, Tully gave hard words to Antonius, and de­clar'd [Page 101] himself his capital Enemy: If without any reason he did so, he is much to blame: But, if at his own peril he had a design to establish the Common-wealth, and if he un­dertook Marc Anthony's Ruine, to prevent that of Rome; as here­by he took care of the common safety of his Citizens, wherein his own was contain'd; so he, moreover, deserv'd the praise of all Mankind, and the love of the whole People of Rome. Those Great Men, indeed, were not of the Family of Epicurus, and One of 'em hath even endeavour'd by his Writings to destroy his Opi­nions: But it's sufficient, that the Authority of their Examples is found in the Doctrine of that Phi­losopher, and that the World know, That it was not Virtue alone, which was their Motive, or at least what they call'd Virtue, ought to be styled Pleasure.

[Page 102]However, out of this School there have issued Spirits com­pleatly Heroique, who in a cor­rupted Age have perform'd as vigo­rous Actions, as those Antient Romans in the flower of their Re­publique under Neroe's Reign, the World admir'd the death of Petro­nius, as much as that of Seneca. The Emperour's Tutour acquired no Glory by dying, but what was afterwards bestow'd upon the Ar­biter of his Pleasures; and the common Sentiment was, that the Stoician who had always held forth and preach'd up a contempt of Life, did not leave it more generously than Petronius, who had courted all it's Pleasures.

In this place, I am bound, for the honour and sake of Epicurus, to retrace something of the Life and Death of this great Disciple: As indeed, it wou'd be impossible for me to pass by this point with­out [Page 103] some discourse to you concern­ing it, and as you with a very wil­ling Ear listen to the performances of Illustrious Men, you will not be loath to rank Petronius in their number, and take a transitory view of the marks of his Wisdom and Generosity. This famous Epi­curean, far from resembling those Sots and Debauchees, who com­monly gormandize all their Estate away, made Profession of a Polite Luxury, making Pleasures his on­ly study. And as Toil and Industry confer Reputation on the [...]est of Mankind, he alone obtain'd it by a gentile kind of Idleness. Very free and very much neglected were his Words and Actions: And, for as much as they demonstrated the goodness and the candour of his Soul, appearing under the garb and covert of simplicity, with so much the more pleasure and satis­faction they were receiv'd. Not­withstanding [Page 104] which, this excellent Man knowing well, that there are times, wherein the Wise Man is oblig'd to lay aside the repose and tranquillity of Life, to serve the State in Publique Affairs, did wholly throw away that happy way of Living, when he was Elected Proconsul of Bithynia, and after­wards was chosen Consul: And acquitting himself worthily of those glorious Employments, he shew'd by his Application and Conduct, that no affair, how bulky soever was too unweildy for his manage­ment. At the Expiration of these Charges, he fell again to his wont­ed way of Living, and then be­ing became one of Nero's most intima [...]e Friends, when though this Prince had very bad Inclina­tions, yet he was so much en­chanted with Petronius his me­rit, that he made him the Arbiter of all his Pleasures, and [Page 105] fanci'd, that amidst the affluence of these Delights, none were to be accounted sweet and pleasant, but such as were approved by Pe­tronius. [I would be understood here to speak of honest Pleasures: since he was so far from partici­pating in the filthy Debauches of Nero, as that that Emperour was us'd to wonder, how they cou'd come to the knowledge of Petro­nius, who reproach'd him with them by his Codicils; so that he caus'd Silia to be punish'd, as su­specting, she had reveal'd them.]

From that time, Tegaltinus eyed Petronius as his Competitor; and fearing, that by the means of ho­nest Pleasure, he might do what Seneca was unable to effect with the austerity of his Sect, i. e. that he might reduce Nero from the disorders of his Life, and restore a true Emperour to Rome; he re­solv'd to under-mine him, saying, [Page 106] there was no establishing his own Fortune but by the ruin of Petro­nius. Wherefore, he straight­waies attacks the cruelty of that Prince, to which all his other Pleasures yeilded, and gave way: he accuseth Petronius of having been of the number of Scevinus his Friends, who had shared in Pisoe's conspiracy: He corrupt [...] a Slave of his, to depose against him: He deprives him of all waies to make his Defence, and causes the greater part of his Do­mestiques to be laid in Shackl [...]s, under such Circumstances, a Man, less generous, wou'd either have flatter'd himself with the hopes of Pardon, or prolong'd his Life to the utmost Extremity. But he, for his part, was of a quite con­trary Opinion; he thought it both a vile and a weak thing to support any longer the fatigues of Fear or Hope, and resolving to [Page 107] die, he contrives to do it, with the same Tranquillity, in which he had liv'd.

Thus, unwilling to part with his Life in a precipitate way, he has his Veins opened, and then bound up again, and still now and then taking off the Bands, ac­cording as his fancy mov'd him, he discours'd his Friends upon agreeable matters; not affecting to entertain them with serious Debates and search'd sentences, by which he might pretend to the glory of Constancy. The last hours of his Life, by no means would he employ, in speaking of the Souls Immortality, or of Philo­sophical Opinions, but having pitch'd upon a sort of most volup­tuous and most Natural Death, he chose rather to imitate the sweet fate of Swans, and had smooth and easy verses rehears'd to him, with miscellanies of Poe­try. [Page 108] Yet he reserv'd to himself some moments for the disposing of his Affairs: He rewarded many of his Slaves, punished some, and seeing the time draw near of shaking off Mortality, after hav­ing used a little exercise, he fell into a calm and gentle Slumber: So that his Death, which was constrain'd, might seem casual and Natural. Now, let men talk of Socrates! let them boast of the constancy and firmness of mind, wherewith he drank the Poyson! Petronius doth not yeild, to him in the least [...]unctilio. Nay, Petronius may pretend to the ad­vantage of having abandon'd a Life infinitely more Delicious than that of the Gr [...]ek Sophy, with the same serenity of mind, and the same equallity of Counte­nance.

But that you may the better know, how rich and precious is [Page 109] the Pleasure, I defend; I design to give you the Pourtraict of a man who possesses it in perfection, and by depicting his contrary after­wards, to take away all reasons of jealousy and doubt, that Epicurus his volupty is of high esteem. Ima­gin then a Man in perfect health, possessing a good Estate; enjoy­ing delights handsomly; having a mind peaceable and contented; tasting always and with abundance the most diverting pleasures of Body and Mind; not troubled with the presence, nor menaced with the fear of any Pain: What condition can you suppose more ex­cellent, or more desirable than this? For, it is necessary, that, such a Person, to be in this State, s [...]ou'd possess a force of Mind proof against [...]ain and Death it self; shou'd be absolutely undeceiv'd of the false Opinions of the Vulgar; should be insens [...]ble of impertinent [Page 110] Terrours and Scholastique Scare-Crows; not suffer the Pleasures to escape, which he enjoys; always entertaining himself in the sweet­ness of their Remembrance: And, this is to be at the high [...]st period of Felicity, and to have nothing more to pretend to for the ac­complishment of ones happiness.

On the other side, let us figure to our selves a Man oppress'd with all the evils, that can afflict hu­mane Nature; depriv'd of all hopes of ever seeing them lessn'd or abated; sensible of no present Pleasure, having never tryed any past delights; not daring to aspire to the possession of future ones: And when we have acknowledg­ed, that nothing can be imagined more miserable than this Estate, let us confess withal, that there is nothing more happy than the vo­luptuous Follower of Epicurus.

Now if you think this happy [Page 111] Man, whose Picture I now draw, is no where else to be found than in my imagination, and that so perfect a Felicity cannot be among Men; I must confess, you have but sorry Sentiments of our humane condition, and of the goodness of Heaven, and I fancy my self en­gag'd to retrieve you out of this errour, if I would pass with you for a real Man, and to keep you from maundering any more against our misery, and the Injustice of Destiny. Thus then, I find, that original done by the hand of one of the greatest Masters, plac'd in the Cabinet of the curiousest of Authors, that ever Writ: It is Felicity it self painted under the visage of Orata, for so Tully calls him; and here follows a faithful Trad [...]ction of what he relateth of his happiness. To Orata, a Man of Wealth, Pleasantry, and Niceness, nothing was wanting of all that [Page 112] can serve to live voluptuously, to procure Love, and enjoy an en­tire and a perfect Health. For he gathered very ample Revenues from his Noble Lordships: He had al­ways many Friends very useful, a­greeable, and diverting: He dex­terously made use of all these things, to maintain a sweet solacing Life: And to say all in few words, his Wills and Designs had ever a suc­cess as propitious, and an accom­plishment as favourable as he could wish. In this condition, I do not think, any thing cou'd be­found fault with, in provision no change fell out, but that Orata must be perfectly happy, if he can remain in the State, wherein we show him. And this, if I am not mistaken, is a Pourtrai [...]t, that bears assimilation enough to the first de­sign, which I shewed you, and which you might peradventure take for Crotesque and a fancy of the Painter.

[Page 113]Let us now seek for some mise­rable men in opposition to this Orata: We will compare him (if you please) to those unfortunate Wretches. whom we see upon the antient Theatre, the one of whom Judges himself too crimi­nal to manage the Grecian Scep­ter, who fears to dishonour the Race of Pelops by owning himself a Branch of that Family, and who dares not shew his Face to Mor­tals. Or let us compare him with that other, who beck'ning to his Friends, that they should not ap­proach him, esteems himself so unhappy, that he fears, his very shade may be contagious. Or ra­ther, let's not call to mind Atreus or Thyastes: Let us forget their Crimes, whose Memory creates an Abhorrence; and let our Eyes no longer dwell upon a Family, that hath forc'd the Sun to return back to the East, and has furnish'd Hell [Page 114] with one of its most famous Pu­nishments.

Occule.

Noxitudo obliteretur Pelopidùm.

Let us rather choose Heroes and People as wretched as the Progeny of Tantalus. Let Amphiareus's Son come and acq [...]aint us with his being Habgoblin'd by Vision [...], and his demanding succours a­gainst the Furies that haunt him.

Oh Wretch! What is't, I see?
Whence come those Lamps,
Which seem to rise from you
Tomb's gloomy Damps?
Help me, defend me from the burning Rage
Of this hot Fire: Oh! It's dam­ned heat assuage!
Night's ghastly Daughters, round each awful Shrine,
[Page 115]With blewish Snakes their horn'd▪
Miens entwine:
The direful hissings! Now, they me assail,
Now, now I feel their Flames:
No plaints avail.
The sound of crashing stripes in­vades my Ears,
And stubs my drooping Soul with thunder-pointed Fears.

After Al [...]meon has thus let us see the tortures of his Conscience, and the racks of his Mind, let Philoct [...]tes entertain us with the miseries, which he is reduc'd unto! Let him speak, and complain of his ill Fortunes; for truly, he makes no distinction of Persons, when he says:

Poor Mortal thou, whom Winds and Seas that roar,
Drive on the Isle of Lemnos sa­cred Shore.
[Page 116]Contemn me not, tho' thus; tho' me you find
Most solemnly forlorn of all Man­kind.
View those vast Rocks, expos'd to th' Firmament,
Where midst of sorrows, I nine years have spent.
Hard Stones my Bed, of Glory quite bereft,
Here far from Battles, far from Lawrels left,
Debarr'd the Freedom of the Aer,
I snap the flying Fowl of fleetest Wing,
And with their Plumes, I weave my covering.

Let him then shew us his Bodi­ly Pains, when his Vlcer becomes inflam'd: He despairs in these Verses:

Has no Man, of you, pity in his Soul,
[Page 117]That his soft Heart may my hard Fate controul?
Will none from this high Pyke, this salvage Rock,
Give me one gentle and good-na­tur'd Shock;
That head-long into raging Bil­lows thrown,
My much more raging Tortures I may drown?
There let me Bulge upon the boy­st'rous Floods,
Vntil the Sea has lav'd me into Suds.
Nothing is equal to my Pangs: The Fir [...]
Burns in my aged Wound with Vlcerous Ire,
The great Vulcano to this Mound, while I
In Flames, a Salamander, ne­ver Dye.

Or, if these Misfortunes be not yet sufficient, let us with O­vid [Page 118] amass together all the miseries of Fables, to wish them to a Man, and then judge, whether his con­dition be more happy than that of Orata, or of that famous Vatia, who formerly merited this Excla­mation; O Vatia, you alone know, how to live: And, consequently, let us conclude with a like Excla­mation: O Epicurus, thou alone knowest how to Philosophize.

By all these vanities we may know, that Volupty is not only worthy of the Eloges of all Men, but that it is their Soveraign good and sole end. Yet in regard this first Proposition makes the princi­pal point of Epicurus his Doctrine, and that is the most true, it is al­so the most contested. Having be­gun to undeceive these Enemies of his, I must consummate my Docu­ments and their Instruction, and leave the truth of this Opinion so well established in their minds, [Page 119] that no more occasion they may have to dispute it, but with ex­tream Injustice. Therefore, that they may be of this Opinion, I will only desire them to cast their Eyes upon Nature, whose effects are rational and certain ex­periences. They will not only find, that she authorises what I say, but she gives them such clear Demon­stration [...], that, unless they pur­posely hood-wink themselves, they will be constrain'd to acquiesce therein. Let 'em, consider, what this common Mother doth in the production and Birrh of Animals, that is to say, in her intire Purity and before her Corruption: They may observe, that she inspires them with the love of Volupty, and the flight of Dolour; that she conveys 'em to what is pleasant, and dis­tanceth 'em from what is hurt­ful; that she teaches them (if a Man may say so) good and evil, [Page 120] and when they attain the former, they rejoice and rest satisfi'd in it. For which reason, when our Phi­losopher, following the Institutions of Nature, pronounces, that the voluptuous Life is the end of Man, he does not trouble his Head a­bout proving this Proposition. As he thinks, there is no need of the dint of Ratiocination to per­suade Men, that Fire is hot, Snow cold, and Honey sweet, because these are sensible things; he, like­wise, believes, that to apprehend the love of Pleasure, which may easily be known by natural effects, a Man need only make use of a mean Animadversion, and a sim­ple Advertisement upon those effects.

However, tho' we have nature on our side, that is, an infallible Decision; tho' we fully perceive in our minds a certain notion, which enclines us to hate evil and pursue [Page 121] Pleasure; tho the beginnings of our wishes, of our disgusts, and of all our actions draw their origine from Pleasure and Pain; nevertheless, because some Philosophers main­tain, that dolour ought not to be reckon'd among evils, nor Pleasure among Goods, and because to es­tablish this Opinion, they alledge many curious things, we must not so strongly confide in our own, as not to stick to the naked truth. We must argue in favour of the Epicurean pleasure: We are to shew, that Reason as well as Na­ture authorises that sect. And certainly, if the [...]hilosophers, who found fault with this pleasure, had considered it well, if they had viewed it, before they attack'd it, they would have easily disco­ver'd, that they were mistaken in their Enemy, and that their For­ces ought not to have been bent against this pleasure. That they [Page 122] were mistaken in their Invectives, and rejected it only on the score of the Pains, which follow it some­times; they might have perceiv'd; for that those pains did not proceed from it, that it is the fault of those who use it ill, and by con­sequence, they would not have decryed a pure and clean source, for having found it mudded and defil'd by dirty Beasts. For, they must confess to me, that there is no Man in the World, that de­spises Pleasure, quatenus Pleasure, that hates or eschews it; that loves Pain as Pain; that follows or endeavours to attain it. But because those who use the most moderate Pleasures ill, afterwards undergo many disquiets and tor­ments; and, on the contrary, there are certain Seasons, in which pain and labour do occasion exceed­ing great pleasures: This hath made those Philosophers (who [Page 123] had only consider'd the Sequels of a Ill-husbanded Pleasure, and of a profitable and necessary Pain) to strike the former out of the class of Goods, and then set pain among praise-worthy things. But in my Opinion, they had acted much more discreetly, if they had emulated us; and if after having accus'd the prophaneness of pleasure, as the Epicureans do in their School, they had not only discharged pleasure from the crimes, by them imputed to it, but also had bestowed upon it Encomi­ums and Crowns, and openly pro­nounc'd in favour of its Innocence. For, under what colour, could they reprove a Man, who is desi­rous to enjoy such pleasures, as from which he receives no annoy­ance, and who will endeavour to avoid the pain, that brings him no profit? Let 'em, then, quest about, as long as they please, they will [Page 124] never find the least shadow to condemn it: On the other hand, right reason will still force them to adorn it with the sublimest praises.

Now, it is time, to imploy all our forces in an enterprize, that needs them: Now are we to com­bate generously, that so we may acquire an immortal victory. The case is no longer the defending pleasure, or considering it as the chief good of Life. We must raise it upon the Throne of Vertue, which disputes with it that Title: And tho we do not chase that vertue away from it, whereof we make profession, we must constrain it to yield the first place to pleasure. And certainly, as all Philosophers agree, that the ultimate end, which Man ought to propose to himself in this World, is a calm and a pleasant Life, many of them are chous'd in situating this Life in Vertue and [Page 125] not in pleasure, and in making their applications to the Splendour of a name, that tops upon 'em, without considering an opinion, whereto nature her self compels their assent. And in truth▪ if they wou'd consult and believe her, they must own, that those vertues, which they stile great, precious and mag­nificent, only seem estimable to them, in as much as they contribute towards pleasure, and that, con­sequently not considered by them­selves, they ought not to prefer 'em before a thing, from which they receive their whole Value and Reputation. For, in the same m [...]n­ner we approve of Physi [...]k not up­on the account of the A [...]t, but upon the score of Health; and the Science of Pilots deserves com [...]e [...] ­dation only for the usefulness of Navigation; we, likewise, shou'd not wish for wisdom, which may be called the Art of Life, if it [Page 126] were of no use to us, and did not c [...]ntribute towards our obtaining the possession of v [...]lupty.

There is no necessity of repeat­ing here, what that Pleasure is, or of designing you afresh, not to de­spise that Name, which Men have corrupted. You know very well, how severe Epicurus renders it, and you must needs avow that it is no shame for wisdom to veil to it, and thence to borrow its whole consideration. Also, on our side, we will confess, that without be­ing a Philosopher, a Man cannot be happy, and that wisdom is the only means to attain Pleasure. In effect, the weakness and frailty of humane nature, being afflicted with the ignorance of good and evil, float­ing commonly betwixt those two things, without being able to dis­criminate them, and often electing with joy, what is to be avoided with care, doth fall into so mon­strous [Page 127] a blindness, that Men in­stead of meeting with the felicity, they gape after, shear oft aloof from it; so that they become miserable instead of finding satis­faction, and in exchange for the Pleasures propos'd to themselves, they plunge themselves into Pains, which vex and torment them. Wherefore, the use of wisdom ought to draw 'em out of this mi­serable condition: Its Candle is to light them in such an irksom and lonely darkness: Its power is to redeem 'em from slavery and bon­dage; from inordinate desires; from inconsiderate terrours, and from rash Opinions: In imitation of Hercules, it must make them a passage through so many Monsters, and conduct them with safety to Pleasure. Wisdom alone performs these great things, like a faith­ful and a generous Guide: She re­moves the difficulties of the way [Page 128] she points out to us. But it is not sufficient, that we do not ramble out of it, we must also in safety walk therein: And while the Winds and Seas disperse and drown the Ships, which Sail without her Steerage, others whose Rudder she hath taken in hand, pull into Harbour without running any Risque or dreading any Tempest. In this Port, it is, where the Wise Man meets with pleasure: In this Port, he reposedly contemplates the turmoil of the rest of Mankind: He discovers all the impertinent er­rours, which persecute their weak­ness: He observes, with how much busy eagerness they endeavour to satisfie their Passions: He sees em crow'd in multitudes, striving who shall advance farthest in Power, in Ric [...]es, and in Fortune.

Certare Ing [...]nio, contendere Nobili­tate;
[Page 129]Noctes atque dies niti praestante la­bore,
Ad summas emergere opes, rerum­que Poti [...]i.

And then, having consider'd all these things, he breaks out into this Exclamation.

O miseras ho [...]inum mentes! O pec­tora caeca!
Qualibus in ten [...]bris vitae, quantis­que periclis
Degitur hoc A [...]vi, quodcunque ast?

For his particular, nothing dis­quiets him; nothing frets him; nothing troubles him: But, he is happy, he follows nature; he en­joys an accompli [...]ht felicity; and in this state he offers up his Thanks­givings to wisdom, the donatrix of his Pleasure. Like him, we must act, if we mean to be happy, like him: We must throw our selves [Page 130] into the arms of that wisdom, and endeavour to attain that Plea [...]ure. We must stifte those unlucky de­sires, which rob us of it: They are insatiable and dangerous: They not only minate private Persons, but destroy whole Families: They pull down States; they create Odiums, Divisions, Discords, Sedi­tions, and Civil Wars: They are the Tyrants and Enemies of those Breasts, that foster them. And if we put the Poets to a scrutiny and examination, we shall find, that by the torments of the Damned, they design to figure out those whom these internal plagues do afflict.

Cui Vultur jecur ultimum pererrat,
Et pec [...]us trahit, infimasque Fibras,
Non est quem Tytium vocant Poetae,
Sed cordis mala, livor atque luxus.

Since, therefore, by the sole [Page 131] aid of wisdom, we can surmount them, as she alone makes us capa­ble of resisting Fortune, and by her we learn all the means of ac­quiring tranquillity and a sedate Life; why shou'd we fear to con­clude, that it is only desirable on the account of producing Pleasure and opposing Pain? The same thing we are to say of temperance, and only not desire it for it self, but because it preserves to our Souls that Peace, without which we could not be happy. and by the Con­cord it inspires, it appeaseth our troubles, and finds even Pleasure in them. 'Tis this Vertue, which always comes to the assistance of wisdom: 'Tis that which executes what the other doth only delibe­rate: And as that shews us, what we are to shun, and what to fol­low, this stops us, when we run contrary to the their advice, and when we give more credit to our [Page 132] senses that our reason. This is a Bridle, which holds us in ▪ when we are hurried on towards evil Pleasures; a Hand, that conducts us in the road of true joy; and, in brief, a virtue, without which we can neither be happy nor wise. And truly, what avails our know­ing good, when we are too weak to practise it? What signifies our see­ing a precipice, if we suffer our selves to tumble down it, and our giving the glory of all words to [...]isdom, when we rob it of all its actions? To this pass most Men are reduced: they conclude all for [...]isdom, but they cannot keep to what they have concluded. They know, there are pleasures, whose results are dangerous, and most au­s [...]erely forbidden by Epicurus: But they make a mock of this Philoso­phers prohibition, and [...]bandon 'emselves to the empire of their bad desires. They are like to Phae­dria [Page 133] in Terence, and they speak through his Mouth on the Theatre of that excellent Comique Poet. This outrag'd Lover acknowledg­es, indeed, he should do an un­worthy action, if he came once more to a reconciliation with his Mistr [...]ss. He declares here ipso fac­to a guilt, and himself a wretched Man: He frets terribly, and grows very uneasie. What then? he does not reform; he burns still with Love, and when he most ap­parently sees, that he stands upon the very brink of ruin, yet even then he perishes with deliberation. So that Phaedria does want no wisdom, but he wants temperance. He knows, what ought to be done in order to his repose and pleasure, but he doth not practise it. He knows, what is b [...]st, and approves it, and yet he follows the worser side. These are mens ma [...]ners, ad­mirably well describ'd and expres­sed. [Page 134] This is the image of their sentiments and frailties. Thus, with­out temperance, they cannot find pleasure. In vain do you upbraid them, that what they follow, is irrational; that it is unnecessary; that its priv [...]tion produces no pain. In vain do you index the Diseases, Dammages, or Infamy, that fol­low their enjoyments. In vain, do you menace them with the punish­ment of Laws, and the severity of Magistrates: You can tell 'em nothing, but what they knew hefore, and what they'l say themselves. What of all this? Why, still they are the Slaves of what they as well as you detest and abhor, resem­bling those Grecian Philosophers, that were allow'd in an high and mighty strain to talk of such vir­tues, as they never practised.

A sort of Men there are still be­hind, who indeed are no Philoso­phers, but yet dispute with much [Page 135] acumen and vivacity. These Men (whom we may call the Propha­ners of the Epicurean Pleasure,) will upon no account allow tempe­rance to be a virtue, and loudly declare, that happiness depends up­on the fancy and imagination. There is no staying to contest with unreasonable people: And the greatest mischief, we can wish them is, that they may live according to their own desire. Our selves we may barely content with know­ing, that their opinion is false and horribly ill grounded, and that fe­licity is never but in the desires, which temperance brings along with it. For, it is not only a mi­serable thing to desire what is not honest: But also it is more ad­vantageous, not to obtain what we desire, than to obtain what we can­not without shame desire. Inso­much that we ought to be of the Opinion of that Antient Gentle­man, [Page 136] who judging of Comitty ba­nish'd from Rome, while Manlius was Master of that City, esteem'd the condition of that virtuous Exal to be better than that of that bad Citizen. But in truth, those who study temperance, and manage the possession of pleasure so well, that they feel not any pain; these Men, certainly, may be termed happy, and merit the Title of Sages. Most durable as their pleasures, as be­ing well regulated, and their whole Life being calm and eas [...]e, because it is innocent. They are far from pursuing inordinate plea­sures: Their felicity consisting in a total abstinence from them. Nay, they go to meet some pa [...]ns, that they may avoid greater: And from their only using temperance in the enjoyment of pleasure, they leave us to conclude, that tempe­rance as well as wisdom, tend on­ly to a more quiet poss [...]ssion of that [Page 137] pleasure, which temperance is in quest of: Not that it makes the pleasure, but it preserves it in us, by making us to use it rightly and with Judgment. You would per­adventure be startled (if not trou­bled) at it, if prosecuting the exa­mination of Vertues, and refer­ring them to Pleasure, I aver, that fortitude depends on it as well as wisdom & temperance; & that that Vertue, which terrasseth Lyons un­der foot, which despises dangers, and could without any dread view the ruin of the whole World, pro­duces nothing illustrious, but what bears a respect to pleasure, and pro­ceeds from it as from a source. For, first of all, it must be conceded, that neither the labours we under­take, nor the pains we support, have any thing to provoke our Sto­mach [...], if we consider them simply, and separate them from other things: And that the care and di­ligence, [Page 138] so frequently commended in Life and in Affairs, and the force (whereof we are now speak­ing) are never pracrtis'd, unless it be with some design, some cui bo­no, and for some certain cause. But we must say, that these things were introduc'd for the tranquillity of Life, and we follow them only, that we may live without care and fear; with an intent to deliver (as much as possible) our Body and Mind from the Maladies and Trou­bles which might afflict them, and safely to enjoy that indolence, which is one of the compositum's of Epi­curus his pleasure. And indeed, how would you have a Man live happy, when he fears death? How would you have that Sicilian find pleasure in the midst of Feasts and Musique, when all the while he dreads the fall of that Sword, which threatens his Head and Diadem? Is it not an extream misery to fall [Page 139] under pains, and yet support 'em basely and with weakness? Did not this debility of mind formerly make several to loose 'emselves, af­ter having lost their relatives and their Country? What was it, I won­der, that occasion'd poetry to Me­tamorphose Hecuba into a mad Bitch, unless it be, that the grief which overcame her, compell'd her to imitate the fury of that Crea­ture? Perhaps, if she had withstood her grief, or, at least, had endea­voured to forget the occasions of it, they wou'd not have made her to proceed from tears to despair, and from desperation to rage. Now, these are the complaints, they put into her mouth, and, by the repre­sentation of the wretched estate she was reduc'd to, and of that which she had lost, she fosters her mourn­ing Soul upon their Stage, and en­kindles the flames of that rage, which was ready to seize her.

[Page 140]
Vnder the pressure sunk of heavy Fate,
Alas, what can I do in this Estate?
To what retreat can Hecuba now fly?
What kind As [...]lum, or what Fort is [...]igh?
Out of bely's jurisdiction here I lie.
[...]ion's high Tower a [...]d Cit [...], where the Gods,
Like Heaven it self, did settle their A [...]ads,
Where they themselves with Vows and Offerings came,
Is now th' insulted prey of the l [...]wd Grecian flame,
I've lost these Treasures. Whither can I go,
W [...]at hope expe [...]t or what s [...]l com [...]ort know?
Whe [...] to Me [...] Altars Sacrifices [...],
And Deities their bo [...]y losses [...],
When [...]i [...]ty is Chaos, &c.

Afterwards, she calls to mind the beauty of her edifices, and the Riches of Asia, to augment both her own grief, and that of the Spectators: For who can remain unmov'd with her discourses.

Oh, d [...]st Cou [...]try, or, my Countre [...]'s Shade!
Priam's high House in lowly Ruins laid!
Oh, Templ [...]s worthy of the Godhead's Eye [...],
Wh [...]se [...] with Godlike Art Men did devise
Ive seen your Fan [...]s and we [...]lt [...]y Shrines shine bright
[Page 141]With Sta [...]ry Gemms, that cast Catestial Light.
The Gold, the I [...]ory, &c.

And, what Person can avoid be­ing seiz'd with both horrour and pitty, when she proceeds in this manner?

By merciless Flames all this I've seen devour'd:
I saw the Aged Pr [...]am, when he pour'd
His Royal Soul upon Jove's Heart i [...] Blood:
Never so great a Victim it embru'd.
Dragg'd through the dirt I've seen my Hector's course,
Without the Grecian's pitty or remorse,
And to compleat the sum of Funerals
I've seen his Son thrown [...]eadlong from our Walls.

So that I do not at all wonder, that the People of Rome should sigh heretofore, when they heard these Verses publickly rehears'd, and that I my self in reading them gush'd out into tears. Thus their strength and beauty forced me to translate them: And, tho' perchance I have injured both: Yet as in tran­slating them, I have imitated the [Page 142] Antients with some latitude, I have likewise satisfi'd such per­sons, as do not understand them, and have in no sort robb'd others, who understand 'em in their ori­ginal. But in what language so­ever we consider them, it is easy, to perceive, they come from a mind very sorely afflicted, and tho' they were stript of their finest Or­naments, they contain sufficient seeds of sorrow to create pitty. Hecuba, indeed, hath great occa­sions to bemoan her condition. She had lost her Husband, her Son, her Empire, and her Freedom. If she beheld these misfortunes without bewailing them, she had been insensible, and we very in­humane, if after so many very lit­teral losses we shou'd go about to debar her tears. But for all that, when she has wept and be­dew'd four or five Handkerchiefs for some time, we should not be [Page 143] unjust to prescribe bounds to her affliction, by regulating her tears and sorrow, and by advising her at length to oppose the force of reason against that of despair. Now some delicate and Womanish Man, that is affected with her complaints, might perhaps start in her defence, that those who would limit her sorrow to the first motions of her mind, would allow her her laments to the last minutes of their Lives, if they shar'd the afflictions, whereof they only judge. And, by conse­quence, they would prove, that our Philosophy, which only talks of Victories, would take wing at the sight of so many calamities, when it shou'd see them coming pell-mell to overthrow it. To such a tender-hearted Man I wish a mighty deal of happiness, for, with­out dispute, if any mischance be­fall him, he would not forbear [Page 144] weeping most bitterly: Yet not unless upon this condition, that for this kind wish, he will give me a dispensation from believing, what he saies, and not exact of me, that I judge of the strength of his Phi­losophy by the feebleness of rea­son. For, not staying much to re­fute all those Men he may have corrupted [in case there be any such, and it be lawful, to hate such effeminate People Men] I shall content my self with putting him to the blush with two com­mon examples. They are Persons, whose Age and Sex might proba­bly render extreamly feeble, and yet in their infirmity have that force and strength, which our ef­feminate Blade does not desiderate in Hecuba, and does even despair to find among the Philosophers. Let him consider the deaths of Astianax and Philoxena, a Child, and a Virgin: These the Greeks [Page 145] condemned both to execution. See here Vlysses advancing himself, holding the first by the hand, and walking fiercely to tumble him down But, See! the Boy fol­lows him with no less assurance.

—Sublin i gradu
Incedit Ithacus parvulum dextra trahens
Priami Nepotem; nec gradu sequi Puer
Ad alta pergit mania.

Consider, that among all those who accompany and lament him, he alone it is, whose Eyes are dry, and who refuseth Tears to his own Death. Observe, that whilest his Executioners are in­voking the Gods to that bloudy Sa­crifice, he Throws himself down from the Pinacle of the Tower, from whence he was doom'd to be precipitated, and voluntarily him­self [Page 146] puts a Period to a Life, which had hardly begun its Part.

But let us turn our eyes to the other side: For, Polixena is al­ready plac'd upon Achilles Sepul­chre, and only expects the Blow, which is to appease that Grecians shade, and rejoyn his Soul to those of his Fore-Fathers. Admire her Beauty, which appears so sparling and Serene; Her Mien, not at all discompos'd at the approach of Death: On the contrary, this Sun, which is going to set for ever, seems to add a new Lustre to the last Beams of its Light. There is also in her Aer some­thing more strong than her Sex & present Condition ought to bear. And indeed, she thinks it not enough to expect the Blow, with­out Shunning it: But, she sees it coming with much fierceness.

C [...]versa ad [...]ct [...]n stat Tr [...]ci vultu Fer [...]x.

[Page 147]And, when Pyrrhus had given her the Mortal stroak, her last action seems still an action of cou­rage, and she does not let her self fall upon the Sepulchre of Achilles, but with design to make its Earth more heavy, and even in dying to revenge her self.

Tell me now, if it be not a shame in Hecuba, to see her Chil­dren more couragious than her self. Tell me, if it becomes her to pour forth such an Ocean of tears, while Astianax and Polixena dye with­out shedding one single Melancholy drop. Tell me, if you do not think those persons happy, in com­parison with that miserable Wo­man. Or, if you are so non-plust with the prospect of all these thi [...]gs, that you have nothing more to urge in her behalf, acquiesce at the long run with us, that she had too little courage in her calamities, and wanted fortitude to resent [Page 148] them less cruelly. Now if it be true, that a [...]eakness of mind is the only thing, which renders mis­fortunes insupportable to us; and which making us to leave the Helm in the sharpest Tempests and Hurricanes of Fortune, doth occasion the wrecks we suffer in places, where with safety we might plow the billows: Ought we not to seek fortitude, that so we may use it as an Anchor, op­posing it against the rage of Wind and Water, and sheltering our selves from the barbarity of the Stor [...]? Upon this Pillar we ought certainly to lean ▪ which serves for a foundation to pleasure, jo [...]n­ing this Vertue to temperance and wisdom: And for the living in re­pose and in the privation of mise­ry, we must believe, that this firm and couragious Spirit is ever above anxieties and cares, seeing it despises death it self: And it [Page 149] must be so well prepared for pain, as to bear always in mind, that death is the remedy of the most violent, that the l [...]ast have many good Intervals, and that it is Mas­ter of the middle and moderate ones. Which things standing thus, we are to infer, that we do not blame timidity and weakness, nor praise fortitude and temperance for their peculiar regard; but that we reject those and desire these, because of the former pain is the effect, and the latter skreen us from it.

So that, now, Justice remains only behind to be examined, and then we shall have done with the principal, which our Ethicks call the Cardinal Vertues. But the things, that might be said up­on this point, are almost the same with the foregoing: And it is no less conjoin'd with pleasure than Prudence, Temperance and Forti­tude, [Page 150] [...] [Page 151] [...] [Page 152] [...] [Page 153] [...] [Page 154] [...] [Page 155] [...] [Page] [...] [Page 157] [...] [Page 158] [...] [Page 159] [...] [Page 160] [...] [Page 161] [...] [Page 162] [...] [Page 163] [...] [Page 164] [...] [Page 165] [...] [Page 166] [...] [Page 167] [...] [Page 168] [...] [Page 169] [...] [Page 170] [...] [Page 171] [...] [Page 172] [...] [Page 173] [...] [Page 174] [...] [Page 175] [...] [Page 176] [...] [Page 177] [...] [Page 178] [...] [Page 179] [...] [Page 180] [...] [Page] [Page 150] which can no ways be with­drawn nor separated from it. And truly, this pleasure is so far from bringing any dammage to our minds, that it doth ever nourish therein by its influence and its nature, such thoughts and senti­ments as are sedate, and never leaves us without these hopes, that we shall never want any thing of all that nature desires, when it is uncorrupted. And just as Intemperance and Folly afflict, torment and trouble us incessant­ly: So Injustice no sooner seizes on a Mans Breast, but it instils disorder and confusion into it, ren­dering him unhappy, tho it should not render him criminal. But if an unjust Man does any sinister action, tho he commit it in such sort, that neither Men nor the Sun are privy or can bear witness of it; yet notwithstanding that he is sure of its being conceal'd, [Page 151] and what obscurity soever the shades might have, which cover­ed it, he is still under apprehen­sions of its being discuss'd by truth. Suspition, commonly, fol­lows the actions of the wicked, and then discourse, and then ru­mour, and then the accuser, and then the judge: And tho all these fail, their own Consciences will not fail to lay themselves open. Now if some Men believe, that their Riches and [...]ower forti­fie 'em sufficiently against humane justice, and set them above Laws and Punishments, yet they cannot secure their dear Persons against Divine Justice: They never lift up their Eyes towards Heaven, but their Consciences fly in their Faces, and give 'em horrible ap­prehensions; and they are still phancying, that those piercing dis­quiets, which devour them with­out abatement, are the secret [Page 152] Executioners of the punishment, which the Divinity inflicts upon them. For, what Power, or what Riches, when they are justly ac­quired, can so much diminish the irksomnesses of this Life, but that at the same time the remorses of Conscience, the fear of punishment, and the Aversion of Men do the more augment them? Are there not many Persons, who cannot set bounds to the desire of being more Rich, of getting more Ho­nours, of Lording it more absolute­ly, of shewing themselves more voluptuous, of making more stately and delicious Feasts, of still propa­gating more and more their sinis­ter Sentiments? And do we not see, that how great a prey soever they may have scrap'd together by their lewd ways, all this in­stead of pacifying their evil de­sires, helps only to enflame them still the more, and these people [Page 153] have more need of being chastis'd by the Laws, than corrupted by reprimands? Thus, reason invites Men of a sound judgment to main­tain the justice established by the Laws and Equity, which derives its origine from Nature and Faith, which may be termed the Band of Civil Society. And this very reason shews, that unjust actions ought never to be undertaken; not by the weak, who wou'd un­dertake to attempt them without success, nor by the Potent, who having compassed them, would not meet with due repose, nor the accomplishment of their desires in them: And, in short, it forces us to own, that justice is not de­sirable for it self; but because it procures us much contentment, because it makes us to be belov'd and cherish'd, which are two de­licious things: And in a word, by these two means, it renders [Page 154] our Life the more secure and our Pleasure the more compleat. Now, if the praise of those very Virtues, wherein other Philosophers did principally employ their most mag­nifick Harangues, cannot find any issue but that which leads to Pleasure, and, if that Pleasure, which is the end of all the Ver­tues, be the only thing, which calls us to it self, and attracts us by its own proper Nature, we may boldly deduce this Corollary, that it is the summum bonum, and the most perfect of all the blessings of humane Life: And we can no longer question, but that that is the truly happy Life, which Epi­curus hath taught us. O holy and severe Pleasure! O admirable Phi­losophy! By what mischance did Men come to decry thee! How hast thou been abhorr'd by many virtuous Persons, that did not un­derstand thee! What has hindred [Page 155] their Eyes from seeing through the Veil, that their Virtues are under thy Dominion! And how did they happen to treat then with op­probrious terms, when they are obliged to thee for their Felicity! But happy the Men, that have been of the Wise Man's Sect, that hath followed thee! Happy those, who have imitated him! Happy even those, who being born in an Age, wherein several believe, that the Vice and Plea­sure of Epicurus are but one and the same thing, have had sufficient light to discover the contrary, or at least sufficient, address to stand up in its defence, tho they have not had courage sufficient to put it into Practice.

FINIS.

Annotations ON EPICURUS HIS MORALITY.

PAge 63. some Stoicks, who were Epicurus greatest Enemies, have not used him so roughly.] I suppose he means Seneca for One, (tho he was no Enemy to Epicurus in his Life, what-ever he might be in his Doctrine) who in many places of his Works giveth him high Com­mendations. More particularly, there is one Sentence, which speaks [Page 158] mighty kindly in his Favour, and which Gassendus has plac'd in the Title Page of his Life of this Phi­losopher: But I cannot at present set it down here, the Place not recurring to me in Seneca (only I remember in general, that 'tis in his Epistles) and not having by me the Book written by that im­mortal Gallican Philosopher, whom this latter Age may boast of no less for his Learning than Experience, and who seems to have made an equal Combination of Speculation and Practice toge­ther. But I am heartily of Opi­nion, that all these good words, which Seneca gave Epicurus, were in complement to the rest of the Great and Lordly Men of his Age, who thorough the Extre­mities of the whole Roman Em­pire, were generally Epicureans, if they did at all hold any solid and fundamental Opinions.

[Page 159]Page 67. People would deal, &c.] In this place my Author infers the innocence of the Philosophy from the Life of the Philosopher, which is no conclusive way of arguing. Mr. Hobbs, no doubt, doth hold many Dogmes, which are repugnant if not destructive, to our holy Re­ligion. Now, I cannot conclude, because his Life (I mean as to the greater part of it) for inno­cency and strictness might be pa­rallel'd with that of the Primitive Christians, that, therefore, those Tenents of his were as harmless and meek as any those Catechumens did entertain. But, what-ever our Author says upon this Head, is not so true of Athens as Malms­bury: There is a different Fame goes aboat of every Man, and it belongs to our judgment to weigh all sides: Epicurus his Friends a­ver this and more of him, than is here related; But they are, un­questionably, [Page 160] over-ballanc'd on the other side. However, as to Mr. Hobbs, I do believe him to have been a truly honest and sin­cere Man, who spoke what he thought, and moreover to be up­right in his Life and Conversati­on, notwithstanding the stories I have heard at Bishop's Tables con­cerning his dealings with the fore­mention'd Gassendus.

Page 68. Some who have taken Information of that Wisemans Life.] But if they happen to take Information from his Adversaries, that dissented from him, or per­haps those that writ the plain truth of things, they will not pre­sent the World with such a fair History of his Life, as they find Epitomiz'd in this and the ensuing Page. They will find, that he stole every Mother's Son of his Opinions from Democritus and the Eleatick School, tho' afterwards [Page 161] he endeavour'd to hide and con­ceal the Theft by changing the Opinions in some little things: That he was so vain and proud, as to exclude from the number of Learned Men all that did not ad­here to his Philosophy, and did not declare themselves his Sectators, as Plutarch acquaints us: That he was of a fierce and vexatious Spi­rit, would let no body alone but rail'd at every thing, that stood in his way, most contumeliously contending with Aristotle, most shamefully Billings-gating Phaedo the Socratick, and in several Vo­lumes opposing Timocrates, the Brother of Metrodorus, his Com­panion, because he in some small concerns differ'd from him in Phi­losophy. Laertius, indeed, on whose Sleeve Gassendus seems to pin his Faith, hath spoken much in his behalf; & to vindicate his Reputati­on from this among other Aspersi­ons, [Page 162] that he asserted the lowest sorts of bodily Pleasure to be the supreme Felicity of Mankind, he says, that his Scholars did either ignorantly or wilfully mistake him. Yet, his profess'd Disciple and great Admirer Lucian, who pre­ferr'd him before all other Philo­sophers, and exalted him at such a rate as never Man was exalted, unless Lucretius had the manage­ment of him) comparing him with Aristippus and Democritus his Masters, saith, that he exceeded them both in Impiety and Luxury. His impiousness appears, that he had the most monstrous concepti­ons of God and his Providence, that ever Atheist pretended to own, and that he denyed the Im­mortality of the Soul: All which Metaphysicks may be seen in La­ertius himself. But as for his vo­luptuousness, we know that Tully an Author of much greater Autho­rity [Page 163] than Laertius, having objec­ted to one of Epicurus his Friends his unworthy definition of happi­ness, quoting it in his own words, and reproaching the sense of it, as­serts that Epicurus did acknowledge no happiness distinct from corpo­ral and soft and obscene Pleasures, of which he us'd to discourse by name without blushing. He reports also concerning Metrodorus, who (as we have said) was Epicurus intimado, that he did scornfully disdain his Brother Timocrates, because he hesitated whether all things that belong to an happy Life, are to be measur'd by the Belly, and offer'd to shew Velleius his Books, if he question'd the Allega­tion. His Garden was not shut to Whores and Strumpets: It was a perfect Moor-fields, only I be­lieve, it might be a cleanlier place, and better situated: Leon­tium was the Creswel, Famous [Page 164] for her audacious Writing against Theophrastus, and the right knack of a virtuosa [...]Impudence, which had risen to that height, as to cast very foul blots on the impotent Lust of Epicurus, when the poor Gen­tleman was now grown deadly old, in a Letter, which she wrote to Lamia, yet extant. It is recorded in the second Book of Alciphron, where the Learned part of the World, if they have any occasion for it, may find it whole and en­tire: I only think fit, in this place, both for the honest satisfaction of the Reader, and for an Idea of Style to our Modern Jilts, to translate the beginning of it.

Nothing, in my Conscience, is more hard to please, than that old Fellow, when he grows young again; this Epicurus, (O Laud!) does so mortifie me. He must be picking faults with every thing, suspecting the very Leaves of the Trees, that [Page 165] make a noise, writing Eternal Love Letters to me, which keep me from his Garden. By Venus, if Adonis were now Fourscore years Old, Low­sy, always Sick, and wrapp'd his Head in a Fleece of Wooll instead of a Cap, I could not endure him.

These brief Memoirs may sa­tisfie any Man, that has no mind to take up any thing upon trust, before he comes to read this dis­sertation, wherein the Foundation-Principle of the Epicurean Philo­sophy, i. e. That our happiness doth consist in voluptuousness, is with great Industry canvass'd, and to the great honour (greater per­haps than he deserv'd) of Epicu­rus.

Page 87. There is nothing bound­ed but in Nature.] That is to say, every thing in nature hath its par­ticular Limits and Circumscriptions, according to the threefold dimen­sions of places: Tho all things ta­ken [Page 166] together, i. e. the Vniverse or natura rerum, may have a vast and indefinite Extension, and ba­nish the supposition of imaginary spaces. Yet, in things immaterial, and independent of matter and body it is not so: Ex. Gr. The Will enjoys an Attribute, next to infinity: There are no bounds to be set to it, but what reason prescribes; and this prescription is to be guided according to the necessities of Nature. Ambition is the greatest Extravagance and Monstrosity, and gave a Monmo­thian Birth to the Fable of Ty­phon, who was a Gyant, feign'd to be the Son of Erebus and Ter­ra: Ambition ascending as all other vices from Hell, of which he was a Type. He was said to have reach'd Heaven with his Heads, because of his aspiring Thoughts, and to have forc'd Old Jove from thence, in regard by [Page 167] Ambitious Spirits Princes are of­ten chas'd from their Thrones.

Page 90. Let the Stoiques boast as high as they please, the insensi­bility of their Sect.] They held [...], that Passions were Irrational; whence they defined [...], an inordinate Impulse, straying beyond Nature. This was a pleasant conceit, but such a one, as, I am glad, they held with all my heart; since, otherwise, we had never met with all that Wit, which Seneca be­stows upon the Illustration of this Point, while with a great deal of Passion he labours to prove that the Wise man ought to have none. 'Tis certain, the whole Intrigue of Virtue and Vice consists in the Passions: And by the same Ar­gum [...]nt a Papist may persuade us Pro [...]nts to throw away our Bibles [...]tterly, because we, some­times, [Page 168] make bad use of them.

Page 94. And because the me­mory of Maecenas] These verses of Maecenas, Seneca comments upon excellently well and like himself, in his hundred and first Epistle. He calls it Turpissimum Votum, that ever Man should refuse neither weakness, nor de­formity, nor the Cross it self, provided but a little Life would stay in him, during his sufferings. Herein, he prays for the Great­est Curse that could befall him, & he begs for a continuance of his Punishment, as if it were for Life it self. But of all things this was the most contemptible, that he should desire to live, tho it were to be Crucifi [...]d. You may debili­tate, cripple me (says he) if you please, so that the Soul does but stay in my broken and useless body: Squash me double in pieces upon the Rack, so that the distorted [Page 169] Monster does get some Time: You may hoist, and nail me to the sharpned Cross, yet it is worth my while, to compress my Wounds, and to hang down straightned from the Tree, so that I but de­fer what is best in Evils, an end of the Punishment. It is worth my while to have a Ghost, that I may give it up. What can we wish to this man, but that his Prayers may be answer'd? Was ever heard a Bargain of so much foolish Fear? Did ever man beg his Life with so much Turpitude? Do ye think, Virgil had ever re­peated that to him, ‘Vs (que) adeóne mori miserum est?’ Or he had ever seen [let me add] those Verses of his beloved Horace, wherein Regulus is describ'd leaving Rome at his return for Carthage, and which in my weak [Page 170] Judgment, I think, to go beyond any thing, that ever Horace writ of Imagery?

Fertur pudicae Conjugis Osculum,
Parvós (que) natos, ut capitis Minor
A se removisse, & virilem
Torvus humi posuisse Vultum:
Donec labantes consilio Patres
Firmaret Autor nunquàm aliàs dato,
Intérque maerentes Amicos
Egregius properaret Exul, &c.

Page 101. One of 'em hath en­deavour'd by his Writings to destroy his Opinions.] i. e. Cicero, who in most of his Philosophick or Moral Writings doth oppose the Opini­ons of Epicurus, especially this of Volupty being the Summum Bonum. And he deals not only with his Ethicks, but his Physicks and Theo­logy too, by introducing several of the Greatest Wits and Gentlemen of Rome, in company and conversa­tion, [Page 171] some of whom being le­ven'd with these Principles he makes to dispute with huge viva­city and acumen with him and his Friends.

Page 107. Petronius did not employ the last hours of his Life in set Speeches concerning the Souls Im­mortality.] As Seneca did, who made better use of his time, and did not dye with the Crowderos a­bout him. This may be easily in­terpreted in a very bad sense, prin­cipally when my Author else­where (page 60. of the second Volume of his Works Printed at Paris) speaks so slightingly of the Eternal duration of the Soul: And therefore, I think my self oblig'd not to pass it over without some Asterisk fixt upon it. For my part, I would go no farther than this place to find an argument for the Soul's Immortality: For, I think it an undeniable proof, [Page 172] that if the Soul be Immaterial, it is certainly Immortal, unless God will withdraw his ordinary Provi­dence and annihilate it. Now, that its essence is immaterial and not corporeal, may be gather'd hence, that if it were co-substan­tial with the body, it could never act as it does in a dying man. When one Vein was Lanc'd, then would so much Soul fly out with the A­nimal Spirits, and the mind would contract an equal Imbecillity with the Body; Judgment, Invention, Memory, would all fail Gradually: And the very Harmony, which Petronius thought to find in his Musique, would prove Discord to him. Not to engage here in any disputes, I will only mention a Story that a Roman Catholique, my Friend and a Person of excellent sense told me t'other Night: When he was last in France, he pay'd a Visit to an Hermite: And [Page 173] after much discourse, finding him to be of a free temper, and (as we say) a Good-humour'd Man, he became so confident, as to ask him, why he being so accom­plish'd a Man, and so fit for the Pleasures as well as Affairs of hu­mane Life, should go and mace­rate himself at this rate for a thing that is doubtful and Cross and Pile: Why, (says he) If I am in the right at last, I am most happy; if wrong, I am where you are still.

Ibid. He chose to imitate the sweet Fate of Swans.] Pausanias notes, that Cygnus King of Ligu­ria, a Prince much addicted to Musique, was transform'd into a Swan by Apollo, which Bird ever since was Musical, entertaining its own death with Songs and Re­joicings. Ovid in his Epistles:

Sic, ubi Fata vocant, udis abjectus in undis,
[Page 174]Ad vada Maeandri concinit al­bus Olor.
The dying Swan, adorn'd with Sil­ver Wings,
So in the Sedges of Maeander sings.

'Tis true, the Authors of na­tural History, give little credit to this Relation of their Harmonical Notes before death, as Aristotle, Pliny, Dr. Brown, &c. and Alexander Myndius says, That he has attended the death of seve­ral of them, yet could never for his Life hear one Musical Note. However, since it was, the vulgar notion, it serv'd the Poets to beautifie their Poesy with­al; and when my Author was speaking of a Poetique death, it was pitty but the Mantuan Swan should come into his Head. The Roguy Martial himself us'd it as one of his Flowers in his Epigrams:

Dulcia defectâ modulatur carmina Linguâ,
[Page 175]Cantator, Cygnus, Funeris ipse sui.
The Swan her sweetest Notes sings as she dies,
Chief Mourner at her own sad Ob­sequies.

Page 110. Impertinent Terrours and Scholastic Scare-Crows.] This is such a description of happiness as we meet with in the Poet:

Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,
Atque metus omnes, & inexorabile Fatum
Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque A­cherontis Avan'!
—Virg. Georg. 2.

The Lord Verulam somewhere observes very well, that perhaps a little Philosophy may make men Atheists, but a greater search in­to the Clue of Causes, doth cer­tainly extricate them from that [Page 176] pestilent Principle; it being (as Pindar calls it) [...], a wick­ed Craft, and seems to entitle Atheists to the Denomination of Wits, when indeed it is [...], the very height of Folly, or rather of Ignorance, as Clemens Alexandrinus says. And we have an Instance of it in Hobbs himself, even where in effect he expresses himself One; who in the very same Book, in which he pretends, that it is highly necessary to the Empire of our High and Mighty Sovereign Lord and Master Le­viathan, that the unthinking Mo­bile be abus'd with the Belief, and scared with the Terrour of Invi­sible Powers, yet lest the World should be tempted to think him so weak as to be betray'd into the same Opinion, he declares openly totidem verbis, That neither him­self, nor any wise-man ought to regard the Tales of Religion, and [Page 177] that they are only design'd to chouse poor Ignorant and Foolish Creatures. Just as if this great Politician shou'd go about to fright Birds from his Corn (which is one of his own simili­tudes and colours of Speech) with an empty Doublet, an Hat and a crooked Stick, but yet lest the Jack-Daws should take him, for one of their own silly Flock, he shall take most especial care to inform them, that himself knows it only to be a man of Clouts.

These are mens manners, admira­bly well describ'd and express'd.] 'Tis the nature of Flesh and Bloud, sometimes, to run counter to that Old Ethical Axiom, Omnia appe­tunt bonum, but then it appears un­der the notion and semblance of Good: As you see this antique Saw, a line above translated,

—Video meliora probo (que)
Deteriora sequor.

[Page 178] Saluft the Historians Excellence lay in characterizing men, and his chief stroaks in those Characters lye in the representations of the same Persons frequent Differing: from themselves, in their Passions and Habitudes of Vertue and Vice.

Page 146. This Sun, which is going to Set for ever.] He alludes to that of Catullus:

Soles occidere & redire possunt:
Nobis, cum brevis occidit semel Lux,
Nox est perpetua una dormienda.

Page 151. They never lift up their Eyes towards Heaven, but their Consciences fly in their Faces.] Conscience is a Principle inh [...]rent in the Soul, and deriv'd from God and Nature, and not to be eradi­cated by the Art of Man. Great Philosophers have Christen'd it by the most venerable Names, as [Page 179] [...] and [...], i. e. a Domestique God, a Divine Bishop or Over­seer, a Sacred Deity, a Power, that hath fram'd to himself a na­tural Temple in the Conscience. Tho Atheists pretend to slight it, yet Cotta who disputed zealously a­gainst it, confess'd that as to Mat­ters of Vertue and Vice, sine ullâ divinâ ratione grave ipsius Conscien­tiae pondus est. [Tull. de Nat. Deo­rum lib. 3.]

But it begins to grow dark, and I think, here are notes enow o' Conscience already for a Book of this small magnitude. I will, there­fore trouble neither my Reader nor my self any further with such stuff, as any Fellow who has but one Eye to look into an Index and another into a Book, can with as great ease as haughtiness present him withal, upon some hours re­tirement [Page 180] into his Study. This, in plain truth, is my case: For, I am not indebted to my Stars so much, as Seneca (the Declama­tor) was, who could repeat two Thousand Names in the same Or­der, that they were rehearsed, and could remember all the lovely things in the Juvenile Harangues of Rome, Forty years before. Beyond all contradiction, this is the best way: I love, when Men do a thing, that they should do it throughly!

FINIS.

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