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AN ESSAY ON SCULPTURE.

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PERICLES.

from a Bust in the Poſseſsion of Charles T [...]ley E [...]q

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AN ESSAY ON SCULPTURE: IN A SERIES OF EPISTLES TO JOHN FLAXMAN, ESQ. R.A. WITH NOTES.

[...], THEMISTIUS, Orat. de Amicitia.
Scriſſi i ſenſi d'un cor ſincero e bianco
Che ſe in vaghezza poi manca lo ſtile
Nel zelo almeno, e nell amor non manco.
SALVATOR ROSA.

By WILLIAM HAYLEY, Eſq.

LONDON: Printed by A. Strahan, Printers Street; FOR T. CADELL JUN. AND W. DAVIES, IN THE STRAND. 1800.

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INTRODUCTORY LETTER TO MR. FLAXMAN.

RECEIVE, my dear friend, with your uſual kindneſs, the long-ſuſpended Work, of which I had the pleaſure of repeating to you a few verſes (as a joyous ſalute) on your ſafe arrival from Rome in the year 1794. I then hoped to render it a more early and a more chearful tribute to your improved talents, and to our long friendſhip. My production is not ſuch as I intended; yet I truſt, in its preſent ſtate, it is not utterly unworthy of your acceptance, or of that favour which every warm heart muſt be inclined to hope its endeavours to celebrate the genius of a friend may receive from the public.

[vi]You know but too well what impediments of anxiety and affliction have thwarted, for years, the progreſs of a performance that the honeſt pride of friendſhip would have zealouſly laboured to make more worthy of the artiſt to whom it is inſcribed. I am yet willing to think that affliction (ſo often uſeful in life) may have had ſome ſort of beneficial influence on this compoſition: ‘Sunt lacrymae rerum, et mentem mortalia tangunt.’

As much as my Work has loſt, in knowledge and refinement, by the ſevere trouble, that interrupted and changed its courſe, it may have gained, perhaps, in nature and pathos. I could hardly convert the ſufferings of your dear diſciple to a uſe more noble, than that of making them inſtrumental, in any degree, to the reputation of ſuch an inſtructor.

When I began the Poem, I intended that it ſhould comprize a ſketch of modern as well as ancient art: but [vii] my attention has been turned from Donatello, Ghiberti, and their ſucceſſors, to the dearer juvenile artiſt who, after the faireſt promiſe of future excellence, under your tender and animating care, has been deſtined to loſe the uncommon advantages he poſſeſſed, and valued, by a length of ſickneſs and complicated ſufferings.

I have now watched, you know, conſiderably more than two years over this intereſting invalide: I have ſeen him enduring a horrible ſeries and variety of increaſing tortures; yet in this very long trial of a martyr's conſtancy and courage I have never heard a ſingle murmur eſcape from his lips; but have beheld him triumph over the ſevereſt unmerited corporeal torments by the ſerenity, fortitude, and ſweetneſs of a ſpirit truly angelic. In a part of this long and diſtreſſing period I have reſumed, at his affectionate requeſt, my ſuſpended Work, and advanced in it, by ſuch troubled induſtry, as thoſe only can perfectly conceive, who have forced the mind to labour [viii] with motives of ſimilar affection, and with ſimilar diſquietude.

Under ſuch circumſtances, you will not blame me for allowing my juſt admiration of your affectionate and magnanimous, though diſabled diſciple, to alter the intended current of my verſe. Writing, as I have ever done, from the heart, I have followed its imperious ſuggeſtions; and your ſympathy, my dear friend, which I am confident I ſhall obtain, in this part of my ſubject, will form, at once, my juſtification and my reward.

For your credit I ought, perhaps, to apprize my reader, that whatever defects he may diſcover in my Book, they are to be aſcribed ſolely to myſelf. As my ſequeſtered life has not allowed me to derive from ſeveral diſtant friends (of intelligence far ſuperior to mine on the ſubject which I preſume to treat) that light which might otherwiſe have embelliſhed my compoſition, I ought not to expoſe them to a ſuſpicion of having ſuggeſted, or countenanced any [ix] erroneous ideas, that a production of retired, yet often interrupted ſtudy, may happen to contain.

To guard myſelf alſo from a charge of preſumption, it may be proper to declare that, in venturing to write upon Sculpture, I pretend not to inſtruct the accompliſhed artiſt, or the real connoiſſeur; (two claſſes of men whom I ought rather to conſult for information, and from whom I muſt ever have much to learn!) but I had perſuaded myſelf, that, by an extenſive Poem on this untried ſubject, I might be ſo fortunate as to promote the celebrity of a friend, in whoſe talents I delight; and afford ſome kind of aſſiſtance to all the admirers of Sculpture, in their various endeavours to naturalize a deſerving Art, which may ſtill be conſidered as little more than an alien in our country, if we compare the portion of public notice and favour, which it has hitherto obtained among us, to the honour and influence it enjoyed in the ancient world.

[x]To encourage a general delight in the ingenious Arts, and to extend the reputation of their ſucceſsful profeſſors, has ever appeared to me one of the moſt deſirable purpoſes that Poetry can purſue; and particularly when that purpoſe is happily blended with the intereſt and the honour of friendſhip.

Should the wiſhes of thoſe whom I regard induce me, in a ſeaſon of more tranquillity and leiſure, to delineate the riſe and progreſs of modern Art, in another Poem, for which I have abundant materials, I ſhall probably introduce that new ſubject by a ſketch of the injuries that Sculpture ſuſtained from the ſect of Iconoclaſts, or Image-breakers, and the animation it might acquire from the diſcovery of Herculaneum, and a more ſpirited reſearch in the ſubterranean cities.

I intimate theſe topics, to obviate any ſurpriſe that my reader might feel on not finding them mentioned in the preſent Work. They appeared to me as more ſuited to [xi] form the line of connexion between the two diſtinct provinces of ancient and modern Sculpture.

But whatever fortune may attend me as the admirer and the eulogiſt of your noble art, that you, my excellent friend, may long cultivate and improve it, and that univerſal applauſe and increaſing felicity may be juſtly and graciouſly beſtowed by earth and Heaven on your labours and your life, is the cordial wiſh of

Your very ſincere and fervent, Though deeply-afflicted friend, W. H.

EPISTLE THE FIRST.
[]EPISTLE I.

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‘Cognatas artes, ſtudiumque affine ſequamur! MILTON.
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ARGUMENT OF THE FIRST EPISTLE.

Fervent wipes for the ſafety of the Sculptor, returning from Rome.—A ſketch of the ſtudies and ſituation of the Author and his friend.—The aim of the former in the preſent compoſition.

INFURIATE WAR! whoſe gory flags unfurl'd,
Waft dire contagion round the madd'ning world,
Spare, in thy rage, or in thy pride defend,
Art's hallow'd pilgrim, Virtue's gifted friend,
The travell'd Sculptor, after years of toil,
Nobly purſu'd on many a foreign ſoil,
Haſt'ning, with deep-ſtor'd mind and practis'd hand,
To prize and decorate his native land!
Fierce as thou art, thoſe ſhadowy forms revere,
By Science hoarded, and to Fancy dear;
[4]Which in the plaſtic ſoul of Genius reſt,
Folded, like future gems, in Nature's breaſt!
To peaceful Sculpture's unarm'd ſon accord
Safety and honour for no mean reward:
He can requite thy favour—he can give
Thy dear loſt heroes yet again to live;
And faithful ſtill to thee, with martial fire
To ſpeak in marble, e'en till War expire.
Thus, ardent Flaxman! while you now review
Rome's ſculptur'd glories in a fond adieu,
Now haſte, admoniſh'd by inſtructive Time,
With filial pride to England's rougher clime.
The ſtudious hermit, who, in that dear iſle,
You left depriv'd of Health's inſpiring ſmile,
To proſper your return, with votive lays
Reſumes the lyre of friendſhip and of praiſe.
Dear Student! active as the Greeks of old,
In toil as ſteady, as in fancy bold;
Blending of diſcipline each ſeparate part,
Diffuſive knowledge with concenter'd art;
[5]And adding, as you climb Diſcovery's hill,
The ſcholar's learning to the ſculptor's ſkill;
Thoſe years that roll'd o'er thee with luſtre kind,
Rip'ning thy labours much, and more thy mind,
Thoſe years, that gave thy faculties to ſhine,
In miſts of malady enſhrouded mine.
Think with what grief the ſpirit of thy friend,
Anxious as thine, but anxious to no end,
Year after year, of feveriſh ſloth the prey,
Has ſeen each project of his mind decay,
And drop, like buds that, (when the parent roſe,
Sick'ning in drought where no kind current flows,
Feels parching heat its genial powers enthrall,)
Unblown, unſcented, and diſcolour'd, fall.
Diſeaſe, dread fiend! whatever name thou bear,
I moſt abhor thee as the child of Care;
Nor fix'd of feature, nor of ſtation ſure,
Thy power as noxious as thy ſhape obſcure;
While thy cold vapours, with a baleful gloom,
Blight intellectual fruits howe'er they bloom:
[6]Yet e'en o'er thee, in thy deſpotic hours,
When thou haſt chain'd the mind's excurſive powers,
Though to thy gloomy keep by pain betray'd,
That mind can triumph by celeſtial aid:
From thee, dull monitor! e'en then can learn
A mental leſſon of moſt high concern—
To know the ſuffering ſpirit's ſure reſource,
And hail the hallow'd fount of human force.
God of thoſe grateful hearts that own thy ſway,
Howe'er their fibres flouriſh or decay,
Safe in thy goodneſs, with no will but thine,
Thy deareſt gifts I cheriſh or reſign!
Yet, if by ſtorms of many a ſeaſon tried,
And toſs'd, not ſunk, by life's uncertain tide,
I yet may view, benevolently gay,
A brighter evening to my darken'd day:
Grace it, bleſt Power! whate'er its date may be,
With luſtre worthy of a gift from thee!
Poets, dear Sculptor! who to fame aſpire,
Fearleſs pretend to inſpiration's fire.
[7]We boaſt of Muſes, who, without reward,
Furniſh the favour'd harp with golden chord:
Yet, to be frank, though penſive from my youth,
I play'd with Fiction as a child of Truth.
When my free mind in health's light veſt was clad,
A feeling heart was all the lyre I had:
But quick as Memnon's ſtatue felt the day,
And ſpoke reſponſive to the riſing ray;
So quick the fibres of that heart I deem,
Of excellence, new riſen, to feel the beam;
Feel the pure light a vocal tranſport raiſe,
And fondly hail it with melodious praiſe.
But Pain, dear Flaxman! the dull tyrant Pain,
A new Cambyſes, broke this lyre in twain:
Still, like the ſtatue ſever'd on the ground,
Though weaker, ſtill its wonted voice is found:
Warm'd by that light they love, the very fragments ſound*.
[8]O could the texture of this ſuffering brain
The pleaſing toil of patient thought ſuſtain,
Unwearied now, as when in Granta's ſhade
Friendſhip endear'd the rites to Learning paid;
When keen for action, whether weak or ſtrong,
My mind-diſdain'd repoſe; and to prolong
The literary day's too brief delight,
Aſſign'd to ſocial ſtudy half the night!
With ardour then, proportion'd to thy own,
My verſe, dear Flaxman! in a louder tone
Should lead thy country, with a parent's hope,
To give thy talents animating ſcope;
Pleas'd, ere thy genius its beſt record frame,
To ſound a prelude to thy future fame.
But worn with anguiſh, may thy bard command
Such notes as flow'd ſpontaneous from his hand
In that bleſt hour, when his applauded Muſe,
Fond of no theme but what his heart might chooſe,
Appear'd that heart's ambitious hope to crown,
The happy herald of a friend's renown;
[9]When Truth re-echoed her ingenuous praiſe,
And our lov'd Romney triumph'd in her lays.
The Arts and Friendſhip are angelic powers,
Worſhipp'd by me through all my chequer'd hours;
My early offerings at their feet I caſt:
Be theirs my preſent ſong, and theirs my laſt!
If Health to him, who oft, with fruitleſs ſighs,
Watches the glance of her averted eyes,
Thoſe eyes, whoſe light can wither'd minds renew,
Thoſe ſtars, that ſhed an intellectual dew—
If Health will yet her inſpiration give,
Call into life my verſe, and bid it live!
Years that, like viſions, vaniſh all by ſtealth,
When Time is dancing to the harp of Health—
But long, long links of an oppreſſive chain,
When his dull ſteps are told by laſſitude and pain—
Years have elaps'd ſince, full of hope for thee,
Thy bard, though wreck'd on Study's reſtleſs ſea,
[10]Yet aim'd to give, by friendſhip's kind controul,
Miltonic * temper to thy fervent ſoul;
And well haſt thou, to make thoſe years conduce
To future honour and immediate uſe,
Aſſign'd of early life thy ſtudious prime
To bright Italia's art-enlighten'd clime;
That clime, where Milton, at an age like thine,
Imbib'd the fervour of ſublime deſign,
As emulation wing'd his ſoul with fire,
In ſong to triumph o'er the Tuſcan quire;
And Taſſo's Muſe, with epic glory bright,
Impell'd his fancy to a nobler flight:
So may the modern lord of Sculpture's ſphere,
Whoſe mighty hand to many an art was dear—
May lofty Angelo thy mind inflame,
As happily to vie with Tuſcan fame!
Then ſhall thy country, while thy works diſplay
Force, feeling, truth, and beauty's moral ſway,
[11]Radiant, at laſt, with ſculptural renown,
(A gem long wanting in her lucid crown,)
Feel new diſtinction animate her heart,
And high precedence hold in every art.
Paſs not this preſage in Detraction's eyes
For partial friendſhip's weak or vain ſurmiſe;
'Tis hope well grounded, ſuch as heaven inſpires
When man ſubmits to heaven his proud deſires.
May'ſt thou, my friend! whoſe well-inſtructed youth
Grav'd on thy heart this animating truth,
"Talents are power which men from God deduce,
"And beſt acknowledge by benignant uſe;"—
May'ſt thou, by years of proſperous ſtudy, reach
Remote Perfection, that no precepts teach!
May'ſt thou, like Angelo and Milton, cloſe
A life of labour in divine repoſe,
In that calm vale of years, by Science bleſt,
Where well-earn'd honour warms the veteran's breaſt,
Acknowledg'd (to reward his mental ſtrife)
A ſovereign of the art to which he gave his life!
[12]Enough for me, whoſe thrilling nerves confeſs
Sincereſt tranſport in a friend's ſucceſs—
For me, who hold, in life's autumnal days,
Private eſteem more dear than public praiſe—
If I may pour, benevolently clear,
Incentive notes in Friendſhip's partial ear;
By zealous verſe uninjur'd minds inflame
To toils of higheſt hope and hardeſt aim,
Urge thoſe I love in lovely arts to ſhine,
And make their triumphs by affection mine.
As when, through hazards on a ſea untried,
Philanthropy and Fame the veſſel guide,
A crippled boatſwain, for Old England's ſake,
By his ſhrill note may abler ſeamen wake
To happier ſervice than himſelf could yield,
If yet unſhatter'd on the watery field.
O generous paſſion, under juſt command,
Enlighten'd fondneſs for our native land!
Thy potent fire the Grecian arts refin'd,
And made them idols of the cultur'd mind:
[13]From thee the hero, as the artiſt, caught
Vigour of nerve and dignity of thought.
Great were thy wonders in the world of old,
When glory triumph'd o'er inferior gold.
But ſceptics ſay that, in the modern breaſt,
The patriot paſſion is a ſordid jeſt;
The knaviſh politician's pompous maſk,
That to the wiſe betrays his ſecret taſk
To cheat a nation with fictitious zeal,
And ape the noble warmth he ne'er can feel.
O, blind to Nature the falſe ſage, who thinks
That by the touch of Time her treaſure ſinks!
The mighty Parent draws from heaven the power
Freely to laviſh her exhauſtleſs dower;
That uſeful pride which, under many a name
The ſpring of action in the human frame,
Gives, at all periods, through her wide domain,
Force to the heart, and fancy to the brain —
The fruit may fail, as time and chance decree,
But every age and ſoil produce the tree—
[14]That pride, the generous root of Grecian praiſe,
Lives yet, unweaken'd lives in modern days;
And oft it ſhoots, as many bards atteſt,
With attic vigour in an Engliſh breaſt!
Say, fervent Flaxman! when, with new delight,
Thy travels led thee firſt to feaſt thy ſight
Where Sculpture reigns, and holds her triumph ſtill,
With hoarded miracles of ancient ſkill;
When firſt thine eyes thoſe darling forms ſurvey'd
That make the colours of deſcription fade,
Feeling their potent charms in every vein,
Till admiration roſe almoſt to pain—
Prov'd not thy ſwelling heart a proud deſire
That, if pure Health will guard thy mental fire,
Thou, by impaſſion'd Toil's repeated touch,
For thy dear England may'ſt achieve as much
As ever Grecian hand for Greece achiev'd,
When hands gave life to all the ſoul conceiv'd?
Feelings like theſe the fervent Milton found,
Roving, in ſtudious youth, o'er Tuſcan ground;
[15]Such, of refin'd ambition juſtly proud,
His candid ſpirit to the world avow'd,
When of his lot he ſpoke his early ſenſe,
And conſecrated life to toil intenſe*.
Let pert Conceit, whom lighter fancies guide,
The aid of Toil and Piety deride;
Let flippant Wit conceive them dull allies,
That might forbid his active wing to riſe,
And with a ſwallow's flight to dart at gilded flies;
Pure minds, to whom the higheſt powers are given,
Own what they owe to induſtry and heaven.
Milton by ceaſeleſs toil to glory climb'd,
And ſtrong devotion's fire his ſoul ſublim'd;
Meek Newton thus his modeſt wiſdom taught,
"All that I've done is due to patient thought."
Hard is their fate, moſt pitiably hard,
Who feel the ſhatter'd mind from toil debarr'd;
Whom, on exploits of intellect intent,
Diſtemper holds in Sloth's dark priſon pent,
[16]Forbid in Fancy's favourite wilds to range,
And deſtin'd with reluctance to exchange
Refin'd ambition's brave and ſpotleſs ſtrife,
For low and little cares of languid life*.
How oft, dear active friend! in liſtleſs pain,
Thy diſtant invalid has wiſh'd in vain
For ſtrength, through Roman fanes with thee to rove;
And pauſing near the Capitolian Jove,
In ſcenes with ſolemn inſpiration fraught,
Catch the ſtrong impulſe of inſpiring thought!
While thou, in mental luxury refin'd,
Haſt nobly banqueted thy thirſty mind
With all that art could yield, or taſte require,
As pureſt aliment to Fancy's fire—
While thy unwearied hand, and ſoul elate,
Have jointly toil'd to copy or create,
My ſuffering mind would to itſelf complain,
Too conſcious that the cloiſter of the brain
[17]Seem'd like a fabric ranſack'd by a Goth,
Whoſe cruel enmity and waſteful wrath,
Defacing all that Truth had treaſur'd there,
Left but a cell for Sorrow's ſilent prayer.
But hence, deſponding Sloth! hence, dull Complaint!
That make e'en Pity's wearied ſpirit faint!
If Health, like Fortune, with capricious ſway
Chequers the courſe of life's contracting day,
From each coy goddeſs with delight we learn,
Long abſence but endears the late return.
Since my firm friend, for travel's nobleſt uſe,
Sail'd with the bleſſing of a ſick recluſe,
I have not loſt, though cramp'd and cabin'd here,
In fruitleſs ſloth each intervening year.
Though Health denied me limbs that might aſcend
Rough Alpine heights with my excurſive friend,
A different cauſe, and of a later date,
Fixing to Engliſh ground my ſtudious fate,
[18]Bade me no more that pleaſing hope reſume,
With thee, inſtructive guide, to ſtudy Rome*.
The high and hallow'd bard, whoſe Muſe of Fire
May, as I wiſh'd, thy plaſtic hand inſpire:
Milton himſelf, with unreſiſted ſway,
Held me from thee and Roman joys away.
Juſtice and truth, with ſtrong affection join'd,
Imperious rulers of the feeling mind,
Urg'd me to vindicate from many a wrong
The ſlander'd paramount of Engliſh ſong:
Happy, dear friend! if this reviving hand
The line of juſt reſemblance may command,
True as thy chiſſel, that can marble warm
With all the life that ſpeaks in outward form.
O! if, in kind beneficence profuſe,
Heaven deigns, at deſtin'd periods, to produce
Superior ſpirits on this earthly ſtage,
To light and elevate a grov'ling age,
[19]To ſhew how Genius bears Affliction's rod,
And fix the deſultory ſoul on God:
Such, the fond reverence of the world to claim,
Nature to England gave, in Milton's name,
By darkneſs undiſmay'd, by toil untir'd,
When conſcience dictated, or Heaven inſpir'd.
Firſt of poetic minds! if, fondly true,
My willing heart has paid thee homage due;
If this weak hand, elaborately juſt,
Clear'd thy bright image from detraction's ruſt;
Teach me to baffle adverſe Health's controul
With all thy fervency, and force of ſoul!
As amulets againſt all worldly ill,
In my free breaſt thy ſentiments inſtill!
Not thy crude thoughts of democratic ſway,
The haſty fruits of a diſtemper'd day,
But, never changing with the changeful hour,
Thy ſenſe of human hopes and heavenly power!
In one ſenſation, one—my deareſt pride—
Well may I boaſt a heart to thine allied:
[20]In this my thoughts with thy frank words agree,
That, "if by Nature, or by Fate's decree,
"No toils of mine can teach me to aſcend
"Heights of perfection that may wait my friend,
"The powers of heaven or earth will ne'er prevent
"My mind's perſiſting in its favourite bent
"To joy in excellence, and honour thoſe
"On whom that coyeſt queen her ſmile beſtows*:"
Bleſt, if to future time my verſe deſcend
A juſt record of an excelling friend;
Bleſt, if, with generous ſympathy ſurvey'd,
And its pure aim againſt its failings weigh'd,
It ſerve to quicken in the public mind
Love for thoſe gentler arts that grace mankind.
Thus, my dear Flaxman! while I now deſcry
Thy goddeſs, Sculpture! in my mental eye,
Hoping the winds, by her entreaties won,
Will waft in ſafety home her travell'd ſon,
[21]Thy bard, reſuming long-forſaken rhyme,
Soothes, in this rambling verſe, the anxious time;
Muſing, if Heaven may to his mind afford
Joy's inſpiration for a friend reſtor'd,
How he may raiſe, in that propitious hour,
An altar worthy of thy guardian Power;
Deſcribe her progreſs from her diſtant birth,
And all her bounty to th' embelliſh'd earth;
Then how pure zeal, in this enlighten'd iſle,
May court her preſence, may enſure her ſmile;
And cheriſh hope that here ſhe may attain
Dominion equal to her attic reign!
Yes, though fierce havoc, in theſe frantic times,
Makes each fine art recoil from mortal crimes,
Yet, in celeſtial wrath's relenting day,
Thoſe friends of earth ſhall reaſſume their ſway!
Angels of light! who deeds of blood abhor,
Enchain that homicidal maniac, War!
All hell's dire agents in one form combin'd
To fire the globe, and demonize mankind!
[22]Let Arts, that render men divinely brave,
To Peace's temple turn Deſtruction's cave;
And form, to counteract infernal ſtrife,
New bonds of friendſhip, and new charms of life!
THE END OF THE FIRST EPISTLE.

EPISTLE THE SECOND.
[25]EPISTLE II.

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— Daedala ſigna polire
Uſus, et impigrae ſimul experientia mentis
Paulatim docuit pedetentim progredientis.
LUCRETIUS.
[]
ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND EPISTLE.

Invocation to Sculpture.—Different ideas on the origin of Art.—A ſketch of its progreſs in Aſia, Egypt, and the early ages of Greece.

THOU firſt and ſimpleſt of the Arts, that roſe
To cheer the world, and lighten human woes!
Friend of the mourner! Guardian of the tomb!
May I, chaſte Sculpture! without blame, preſume,
Rude in thy laws, thy glory to relate,
To trace, through chequer'd years, thy changeful fate;
And praiſe thee, forming with a potent hand
Thy new dominion in my native land?
While zeal thus bids the breath of incenſe roll
From that pure cenſer, a benignant ſoul,
[26]And, with the fond ſincerity of youth,
Would blazon merit in the tints of truth,
Enlivening Friendſhip ſhall thoſe aids ſupply,
That injur'd health and troubled years deny:
Her hallow'd fire, like Inſpiration's beam,
May raiſe the poet to his honour'd theme.
As death-like clay, dear Flaxman! to fulfil
The kind beheſt of thy creative ſkill,
Lives at thy touch, and, with affection warm,
Of changeful beauty wears each varying form;
So languid thought, that, lifeleſs and disjoin'd,
Floats a dark chaos of the cumber'd mind,
At Friendſhip's bidding in new ſhapes may ſhine,
With each attractive charm of juſt deſign;
And gain from her, as an immortal dower,
The vivid grace of that inſpiring power:
In lucid order teach my verſe to riſe,
Dear as a magic glaſs to Sculpture's eyes,
Where thy pleas'd goddeſs may with pride ſurvey
Her ancient honours, and her future ſway!
[27]
What eye may hope to pierce the diſtant gloom
Where, in their cradle ſhadowy as the tomb,
Breathing, ſcarce breathing the dark air of ſtrife,
The infant Arts firſt ſtruggled into life?
There are who, led by Fancy's airy clue,
In Scythian wilds the birth of Sculpture view,
And image to themſelves her youthful hand,
Prompted by dark Devotion's fond command,
To form, of yielding ſtone or ductile clay,
An early ſymbol of Almighty ſway;
The bull's ſtern front, to which rude myriads kneel,
The favourite idol of benighted zeal*.
Others a ſofter origin aſſign
To the young beauties of this art benign—
To Love, inſpiring the Corinthian maid
Fondly to fix her ſleeping lover's ſhade;
And her kind ſire's congenial ſkill they trace
The new attraction of a modell'd face.
[28]
The king, whoſe power, by intellect refin'd,
Enthron'd each ſcience in his ample mind,
Tells, in his hallow'd page, how Sculpture roſe,
To ſoothe the anguiſh of parental woes;
How firſt a father, in affliction's ſtorm,
Of his dead darling wrought the mimic form,
Impaſſion'd Nature's laudable relief,
Till impious worſhip grew from tender grief*.
No ſingle region of the ſpacious earth
Can take excluſive pride in Sculpture's birth.
Wherever God, with bounty unconfin'd,
Gave man, his image, a creative mind,
Its lovely children, Arts mimetic, ſprung,
And ſpoke, through different lands, in every tongue.
Though keen reſearch, elate with Learning's pride,
From vain conjecture would in vain decide
How Sculpture firſt, in early twilight's hour,
Made the firſt eſſay of her infant power;
[29]Though clouds of fabulous tradition hide
Her fam'd Prometheus, her primaeval pride*:
Still can the eyes of Fancy and of Truth
Behold her ſhining in attractive youth,
By Love, by Grief, by Piety careſs'd,
Alternate nurſling of each hallow'd breaſt;
Rear'd, by their care, to work as each inſpires,
And fondly miniſtring to their deſires.
Where firſt imperial Pride, with wealth her dower,
Spoke in a voice of vivifying power,
And, charm'd in Aſia with her new domain,
Summon'd the Arts as vaſſals of her train,
Sculpture, perchance, ennobled by her ſway,
Gave her firſt wonders to the eye of day.
If, credulouſly fond, the Muſe may ſpeak,
Nor doubt the bold deſcription of a Greek,
Her favourite Art's primaeval ſkill was ſeen
To form the ſemblance of that Syrian queen,
[30]Whoſe daring hand the dart of triumph hurl'd,
Who rul'd, in Babylon, the eaſtern world;
And, pleas'd the bounds of tranſient life to paſs,
Aim'd at eternal ſway in animated braſs*.
Alas! how vain, in Aſia's crumbling ſoil,
Prov'd the proud efforts of imperial Toil!
Where are thy wonders, Babylon? What eye
May now a veſtige of thy art deſcry?
The cautious ſtudents in hiſtoric lore
Queſtion the marvels they in vain explore;
Thy boaſted ſights a ſplendid fable deem,
And hold Semiramis herſelf a dream.
But haſte, thou lovely goddeſs of my lays,
Whoſe varying powers command my willing praiſe!
Lead me from ruins, where I hardly meet
Uncertain traces of thy long-paſt feet,
To ſcenes of ſolid, though of gloomy truth,
The dark aſylum of thy buſy youth!
[31]Hail, Aegypt! hail, laborious, patient land!
Sublime in purpoſe, in performance grand!
Thy ſteady ſpirit to young Sculpture taught
To ſcape deſtruction in the works ſhe wrought;
And blind Oblivion's torrent, ſwell'd by ſtorms,
Has fail'd to bury thy coloſſal forms.
If taſte faſtidious may with ſcorn deride
Aegyptian tributes to deſpotic pride;
If Wonder ſtand in joyleſs trance aghaſt
At regal blocks, elaborately vaſt—
Protentous copies of a mortal frame,
Though firm, uncouth; and though enormous, tame—
If Fancy ſhrink from Superſtition's ſhapes,
Dog-headed gods and conſecrated apes,
From dark conceits to Learning's ſelf unknown,
And the mute riddle on the mangled ſtone;—
Yet highly, Aegypt, of thy worth I deem,
And view thy patient efforts with eſteem.
Is it not wonderful, and worthy praiſe,
That men, untouch'd by Inſpiration's rays,
[32]Strangers to Freedom, gaiety, and grace,
Could build renown upon a laſting baſe;
And all the ravage of deſtruction foil
By the calm powers of perſevering toil?
Yes, Aegypt, here let thy juſt praiſe be read,
Thy tender rev'rence for the virtuous dead;
And thy fond care, by Sculpture's nobleſt aim,
To give beneficence a deathleſs name!
Time on that care beſtows the wiſh'd effect,
And guards thy maſſive monarchs with reſpect*.
Let not nice Taſte, of purer fancy vain,
This praiſe of old and graceleſs art arraign:
Should a magician uſher to our view
An Ancient wrinkled dame of dingy hue,
Big-bon'd and ſtiff, and muttering mangled verſe,
Then ſhould he ſay, with truth, "See Helen's nurſe!"
The ſwarthy beldam friendly hands would ſhake,
And all would bleſs her for her nurſling's ſake.
[33]Such Memphian art, to attic minds endear'd;
For Greece, their Helen! was by Aegypt rear'd*.
Ye firſt and faireſt of ideal forms,
Whom beauty decorates, and paſſion warms!
Ye Graces, who beheld, with juſt delight,
All Greece one temple, by your preſence bright!
Conduct a modern bard, in fancy's hour,
To view that temple; conſcious of your power,
Conſcious your favour full ſucceſs enſures;
The paths of knowledge, truth, and fame are yours.
Your aid a vital charm to toil imparts,
The deathleſs ſoul of tranſmigrating arts.
Offspring of Freedom and of Feeling! you
Outlive your parents, and their life renew:
Immortal in their works, your endleſs ſway
Can bring departed talents into day;
Convince the world your influence ſublime
Fears no fictitious bars of ſoil or clime;
[34]Exalt my country with your kindeſt ſmile,
And raiſe an Athens in this northern iſle!
My daring verſe avows the patriot aim
To quicken Britain's love for boundleſs fame;
To raiſe her pitch of emulation high,
With Grecian Sculpture's perfect ſons to vie.
When foreign pride would Britiſh minds enchain,
Periſh the doubt, prepoſterouſly vain,
That mental tyrants arrogantly ſtart
To limit England in the ſphere of art*!
Has ſhe not borne, to men and angels dear,
A poet who, beyond his Greek compeer,
In Fancy's field the diſk of glory hurl'd—
The hallow'd Homer of the Chriſtian world?
Aſſociate Arts alternate luſtre lend;
Each, in her hour, appears a ſiſter's friend.
Say why in ſculpture Greece has reign'd ſupreme?
Nature with marble gave her rocks to teem;
[35]And foſtering Freedom bade her chiſſel trace
Unfetter'd forms of dignity and grace;
Propitious both to Art: but higher ſtill
Flows the bright fountain of her plaſtic ſtill.
Homer firſt vivifi'd the public mind,
Arm'd it with ſtrength, with elegance refin'd;
From him, that mind with images replete,
As Sculpture potent, and as Painting ſweet,
Grew by degrees, in various branches bright;
Congenial faculties purſu'd his flight;
And Phidias roſe, while Art and Nature ſmil'd,
The mighty poet's intellectual child
Whom Sculpture boaſted in her proudeſt hour,
By Heaven inveſted with Homeric power.
When, truer to itſelf, the Britiſh mind,
More keen for honours of the pureſt kind,
To Milton's genius ſuch regard ſhall pay
As Greece for Homer gloried to diſplay,
Like Phidias, then, her ſculptors ſhall aſpire
To quicken marble with Miltonic fire;
[36]And attic deities ſhall yield the palm
To lovelier forms, ſeraphically calm.
Fine Art's important growth in every clime
Requires the ſlow progreſſive aid of Time.
In Greece, where Sculpture reach'd ſuch heights at laſt,
That Nature, ſmiling, own'd herſelf ſupaſs'd,
Obſerve how ages her long childhood nurs'd,
And how her ripen'd charms excell'd the firſt!
Behold her Daedalus, whom fables praiſe,
The boaſt and wonder of her early days!
He, daring artiſt, in a period dark,
In death-like forms infus'd a living ſpark;
He looſen'd from the ſide the lifeleſs arm,
Gave to the open'd eyes a ſpeaking charm,
And ſuch an air of action to the whole
That his rude ſtatue ſeem'd to have a ſoul.
Thou great artificer of deathleſs fame!
Thy varied ſkill has prov'd the ſport of Fame,
Who ſhews, half ſhrouded in the veil of Time,
Thy real talents, thy imputed crime;
[37]A crime as falſe, in Reaſon's friendly ſight,
As through the buoyant air thy fabled flight.
Theſeus and Hercules with thee combin'd
By different toils to meliorate mankind:
They labour'd to ſecure, by glorious ſtrife,
And thou, by glorious arts, to ſweeten life.
Though dim traditions all thy merit ſhow,
Too well one feature of thy fate we know:
Genius and miſery, (ſo oft, on earth,
Severely blended in the lot of worth,)—
Theſe both were thine, and both in rare extremes,
Yet both were recompens'd by glory's beams:
Thy native Athens in thy praiſe was loud,
And grateful Aegypt to thy image bow'd.
Ruin has ſunk within her drear domain
Thy attic figures, thy Aegyptian fane;
Glory ſtill grants, thy fav'rite name to grace,
One monument that Time can ne'er deface,
Where Pathos, while her lips thy pangs rehearſe,
Shews thy parental heart enſhrin'd in Virgil's verſe.
[38]
Unhappy genius of a brutal age!
Admir'd and ſpurn'd by ignorance and rage!
Though ſtyl'd a murd'rer, who, with envy blind,
Kill'd the keen ſcholar to his charge conſign'd;
Though doom'd to ſorrow's moſt oppreſſive weight,
To mourn a darling ſon's diſaſtrous fate;
Juſt Heaven allow'd thy tortur'd mind to reſt
On one diſciple, in thy guidance bleſt—
Thy kind Endaeus joy'd thy lot to ſhare,
Thy friend in exile, and in art thy heir!
A witneſs of his ſkill Minerva ſtood—
Coloſſal deity in ſculptur'd wood;
And from his touch leſs-yielding ivory caught
Of life the ſemblance, and the air of thought.
The different uſes of an art divine
From thee he learnt; for Art's wide field was thine:
Rich, though yet rude; where her prophetic eyes
Saw diſtant wonders from thy genius riſe,
Whoſe native ſtrength, like England's early ſage,
Burſting the barriers of a barbarous age,
[39]Emerg'd, while Nature bade thy mimic ſtrife
Make bold advances to ideal life.
Not vain, O Daedalus! thy toil, to raiſe
A varied column of inventive praiſe;
Though loſt to ſight each boldly-labour'd maſs
Of wood, of ſtone, of ivory, of braſs,
That from thy ſpirit vital ſemblance won;
Though Time, unfeeling, cruſh'd thy ſculptur'd ſon,
Whoſe form, more fondly labour'd than thy own,
In radiant bronze with radiant luſtre ſhone,
And long to ſtrangers would thy love atteſt,
An idol of the land that gave thee reſt—
Though theſe were ſunk in early ruin, ſtill,
An happier offspring of thy plaſtic ſkill,
Schools of Greek art aroſe, with ſpirit free,
And bleſt a bold progenitor in thee*.
Aegina, like the morning's early rays,
And Corinth, bright as the meridian blaze;
[40]Sicyon, ingenious Beauty's native earth,
And Rhodes, who gloried in Minerva's birth—
Hence Sculpture drew her nurſeries of ſkill,
Rich as a river fed by many a rill;
While earth and Heaven exult in its advance
To ſhine reflected in its bright expanſe!
Nor there alone did liberal Art diſplay
The ſweet enchantment of her early ſway:
Even rough Sparta, though engroſs'd by arms,
Eſteem'd the patient chiſſel's ſofter charms.
Proud of her dauntleſs race in battle tried,
She rear'd a ſculptor with parental pride;
Pleas'd that her ſon Gitiades combin'd
Three kindred arts in his accompliſh'd mind.
He built, he deck'd with bronze Minerva's fane,
Then ſung the goddeſs in a hallow'd ſtrain.
The triple homage won her kind regard,
And from oblivion ſav'd the artiſt and the bard*.
[41]But, like the caſt of Spartan manners, coarſe,
And ſlighting ſofter charms for ſinewy force,
E'en Grecian art, through all its ſtudious youth,
Reach'd not the latent grace of lovely Truth.
Her chiefs, her gods, as in a mental ſtorm,
Aw'd with a proud auſterity of form;
Yet Sculpture's ſons, with Nature in their view,
Increas'd in talents, and in honour grew.
Such power Dipaenus gave to Parian ſtone,
That gods appear'd to make his cauſe their own;
And Terror thought they curs'd the ſterile ſoil
Where haſte inſulted his unfiniſh'd toil*.
Thy ſons, Anthermus, with a filial pride
Their dear hereditary talents plied,
And bade, the meaſure of her fame to fill,
Their native Chios glory in their ſkill:
But, in an evil hour of angry haſte,
They with malignant ſkill their art debas'd;
[42]Pleas'd to devote to mockery's regard
The homely viſage of no trifling bard:
Hipponax, fam'd for acrimonious ſong,
Soon with Iambic rage aveng'd the wrong.
Deform'd of ſoul, Deriſion fann'd the ſtrife:
But the mild patrons of enlighten'd life,
The nobler Graces, mourn'd the bickering hour,
And blam'd the mean abuſe of mental power*.
For aims more worthy of an art divine,
A purer fame, Antenor, ſhall be thine,
Whoſe ſkill to public reverence conſign'd
The patriot idols of the Grecian mind—
The young Tyrannicides, whoſe dauntleſs ſoul
Diſdain'd ſubmiſſion to uſurp'd control;
Whoſe brave achievement, and whoſe blended praiſe,
Athens rehears'd in her convivial lays—
Athens, exulting thoſe dear forms to ſee—
Whoſe very ſilence cried aloud, "Be free!"
[43]
Inſtructive Sculpture! chaſte and awful queen
Of Arts that dignify this earthly ſcene!
Thy fineſt ſkill, thy moſt empaſſion'd powers,
Form'd to outlive the pencil's fading flowers,
Are well devoted, as true honour's prize,
To Freedom's ſon who for his parent dies:
For ſhe, the prime ennobler of the mind,
That, wanting her bleſt beam, is weak and blind—
Freedom, of Excellence the foſtering friend,
Whom Virtue loves, and Sciences attend—
Freedom firſt made in Greece, her favourite land,
Beauty and Force the creatures of thy hand:
She taught thee with ſuch forms to deck thy ſphere
As wiſe Idolatry may yet revere;
Forms, in which Art refin'd on Nature's plan,
At once reſembling and ſurpaſſing Man.
'Twas in the ſplendor of thoſe glorious days,
When attic valour won eternal praiſe—
When, happy to have clear'd her cumber'd coaſt
From fierce Invaſion's foil'd barbaric hoſt—
[44]Exulting Liberty to Sculpture cried,
"Aid thou our triumphs, and our joys divide!
"Since I and Nature in this ſcene conſpire
"To warm accompliſh'd minds with happieſt fire,
"That Fame may ſee them in her fane preſide,
"And deem her attic ſons her deareſt pride!
"To memorize their noble forms be thine!
"Grace thou the mortal with an air divine!
"That Grecian excellence, eluding fate,
"Age after age may ſhine ſupremely great;
"That Greece herſelf, and every poliſh'd clime,
"May, through the long viciſſitudes of time,
"Hail thoſe who ſav'd her from Oppreſſion's rod,
"The patriot hero, or the guardian god!"
So Freedom ſpake, and at her potent call
Obedient Sculpture peopled every hall;
The generous artiſt fix'd, with proud delight,
The ſtate's brave champions in the public ſight;
And grateful Genius felt his powers expand,
While public virtue taught his willing hand
[45]To honour chiefs who every danger brav'd,
And decorate the land their valour ſav'd.
Nor gave juſt Gratitude to man alone
This vital tribute of expreſſive ſtone,
But to Athenians who, in beauty's form,
Repreſs'd their female fear in ruin's ſtorm;
Who, in the hour when their delightful home,
Domeſtic altars, and each ſacred dome,
Were ſeen to ſink in fate's barbaric blaze,
Diſdain'd deſpair, and look'd for happier days
In Grecian arms ſtill daring to confide
With tender fortitude and virtuous pride;
Pleas'd in Trezene's ſheltering walls to wait,
Till attic force reſtor'd their native ſtate.
Ye patient heroines! not vain your truſt,
By love ſuggeſted, and to valour juſt!
Athens, the favourite theme of every tongue,
(A real Phenix,) from her aſhes ſprung—
Athens, endear'd to every feeling heart,
A throne of Genius, and a mine of art—
[46]Athens was proud your conduct to review;
She to your courage rais'd memorials due,
And with your ſculptur'd charms Trezene deck'd,
Who ſav'd her fugitives with fond reſpect.
Ye heroines of hope, whoſe force of mind
Induc'd relenting Fortune to be kind!
Teach me to copy what I juſtly praiſe!
Teach me, like you, in dark affliction's days—
Now while the lyre, by ſorrow's ſtern command,
Sinks in forc'd ſilence from my troubled hand—
Teach me to wait, in Quiet's friendly bower,
The future ſunſhine of a fairer hour*.
THE END OF THE SECOND EPISTLE.

EPISTLE THE THIRD.
[49]EPISTLE III.

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[...]
[...]
[...].
[...]
[...],
[...].
PINDAR.
[]
ARGUMENT OF THE THIRD EPISTLE.

The Grecian ſculptors of later time—Myron—Polycletus—Phidias—Praxiteles —Euphranor—Lyſippus—The Coloſſus of Rhodes.—Addreſs to Time, as the reſtorer of buried Art.—The Laocoon.—Niobe.—Hercules. Apollo.—Venus.

JUSTICE and Honour call! Awake, my lyre!
Artiſts of Attica thy voice require!
Ye Greeks! ye demi-gods of ancient days!
Whoſe life was energy, whoſe paſſion praiſe!
What patriot rapture muſt your hearts have known,
When with new charms your native Athens ſhone!
Conſpiring Arts ſtrain'd every nerve to crown
Their reſcu'd darling with unmatch'd renown;
And of thoſe earth-ennobling Arts who ſtrove,
Foſt'ring her glory, to enſure her love.
[50]Nor laſt, nor leaſt, O Sculpture! was thy claim,
Delightful miniſter of deathleſs fame!
E'en at this day, when Time's illuſive cloud
Enwraps departed empire like a ſhroud,
Rending Oblivion's veil in Fancy's ſight,
Thy Grecian-ſons my willing praiſe invite.
Thy Myron, firſt of that accompliſh'd race
Who gave to ruder forms true vital grace;
See him with ſmiles his brazen cow careſs,
While herds applauſive round the ſculptor preſs!
His work they hail with fond amazement wild,
And deem their kindred ſtatue Nature's child:
A numerous train of rival bards rehearſe
His brazen heifer's praiſe in partial verſe.
But not to brutes was his pure art confin'd;
Myron in nobler forms infus'd a mind.
'Twas his in Bacchus' fane that god to place,
With ſuch commanding and ſuch cheerful grace,
That the pleas'd eye, of potent form the teſt,
Gladly the joy-inſpiring power confeſt.
[51]'Twas his with genius, in poſition rare,
To ſhow the labouring limbs with learned care.
His keen Diſcobolos in every part
Spoke toiling Nature trac'd by patient Art;
And his fleet Ladas, train'd for Piza's prize,
Hope in his heart, impatience in his eyes,
Through all his ſhape expreſs'd his eager ſoul,
A thirſt for praiſe, and panting for the goal*.
Of higher ſtudies and ſuperior note,
See Polycletus his ſtrong mind devote,
To frame for ſtudious youth inſtruction's plan,
And found his precepts on his faultleſs man!
The model, fam'd through long-ſucceeding time,
Diſplay'd young Vigor in his martial prime.
Nor did thy female forms with weaker claim,
Accompliſh'd artiſt! at perfection aim:
Witneſs Epheſian Dian's ample fane,
Fill'd with her active Amazonian train.
[52]By many a ſculptor, emulouſly keen,
Theſe rival nymphs, high-wrought, enrich'd the ſcene.
There, where the judges of thy art declare
Which figure they pronounce ſupremely fair,
How great the triumph of thy chaſte deſign!
The Amazon of Phidias yields to thine*!
But as low vallies to the mountain grove,
As humble deities to awful Jove,
Such, in his time, was every fam'd compeer
With Phidias match'd in Art's ſublimeſt ſphere;
Where the rapt mind, to Heaven itſelf convey'd,
Imbibes celeſtial form by Fancy's aid,
And gives adoring mortals to ſurvey
Features that indicate Almighty ſway.
Genius of ancient Greece! whoſe influence ran
Through every talent that ennobles man;
O'er bright ideas taught the mind to brood,
And feaſt on glory, as its native food;
[53]Bear me, in viſion bear me, to that ground
Where Honor's fervent ſpirit breath'd around;
Where gay Diſtinction held the garland high,
And thy prime wonders gladden'd every eye!
Thy favourite precincts at my wiſh appear,
Where hymns of triumph fill the raptur'd ear;
My eager feet have paſs'd thy olive grove,
And touch the threſhold of Olympian Jove!
Lo, in calm pomp, with Art's profuſion bright,
Whoſe blended glories faſcinate the ſight,
Sits the dread power! Around his awful head
The ſacred foliage of the olive ſpread,
Declares that in his ſovereign mind alone
Peace ever ſhines, and has for ever ſhone.
The temple's ſpacious precincts ſcarce enfold
The grand quieſcent form of ivory and gold.
The ſymbols of his ſway, on either hand,
Delight and reverence at once command.
Behold his right ſweet Vict'ry's image bear,
Form'd, like his own, elaborately fair:
[54]His left a ſceptre with rich light inveſts,
And tranquil on its point his eagle reſts;
His ſandals are of gold; a golden robe
Proclaims his empire o'er the living globe:
For earth's mute creatures, on his veſt are ſeen
With flowers, and firſt the lily as their queen.
The rich compartments of the throne enfold
Ivory with ebony, and gems with gold:
Adorn'd with images, four maſſive feet
Suſtain the radiance of the regal ſeat.
Around each foot four joyous forms advance,
Four Vict'ries, weaving a triumphant dance.
The throne's high ſummit ſhapes more lovely ſtill
With animation and with beauty fill:
The Graces here upon their parent wait;
His filial Seaſons there, and both in triple ſtate.
The labouring eye, with admiration ſmit,
Labours in vain each figure to admit,
That blended arts conſpiring toil'd to raiſe
On this grand ſpectacle, ſurpaſſing praiſe.
[55]Yet here all eyes, the ſkilful and unſkill'd,
Impreſs'd with awe, and with amazement fill'd,
From the bleſt features of the god imbibe
Such thoughts as meliorate his mortal tribe.
Phidias! all vouch thy fame, though not in ſpeech—
Thine, the prime glory pagan minds could reach—
Thine, to have form'd, in ſuperſtition's hour,
The nobleſt ſemblance of celeſtial power!
Illuſtrious artiſt! in thy ſignal lot
What ſtains the glory of thy country blot!
Genius of Athens! ſorrow ſeals thy lips,
And all thy ſplendour ſinks in dark eclipſe,
When hiſtory ſhews with a regret benign,
The ſins of baſe ingratitude were thine—
Ingratitude to men, whoſe ſkill ſublime
Gave thee to triumph o'er the rage of time!
How, Phidias! was thy heart with anguiſh ſtung,
When public malice, by thy pupil's tongue,
Charg'd thee, whoſe mind was caſt in honor's mould,
With the mean ſacrilege of pilfer'd gold!
[56]But thee thy Pericles, that noble name
Who rear'd thy talents, and who ſhares thy fame,
By generous Friendſhip's providential care
Reſcu'd from Slander's execrable ſnare—
Vengeance was thine, that vengeance juſt and grand,
Which fires wrong'd genius with an eager hand
Of national iniquity to foil
Th' oppreſſive aim, by new and nobler toil,
Till Envy's ſelf with wonder ſtand aghaſt,
Seeing the works that wak'd her rage ſurpaſs'd.
So with himſelf this injur'd artiſt ſtrove,
His far-fam'd Pallas yielded to his Jove;
And grateful Elis, proud new palms to gain,
Boaſted, with truth, of Phidias juſtly vain,
That Athens was eclips'd by her Olympian fane*.
Still dear to fame, though fickleneſs, thy joy,
Urg'd thee, by turns, to cheriſh and deſtroy
The very excellence thy breaſt ſupplied,
Child of thy love, and nurſling of thy pride,
[57]Even thy foes, O Athens! mourn'd thy fate,
When fierce Lyſander thunder'd at thy gate,
And all thy wounded Arts felt War's o'erwhelming weight—
War, whence the worſt of human miſery ſprings;
The people's folly, and the guilt of kings.
Thy Pericles, whoſe talents ſeem'd to claim
A monarch's empire, with a patriot's name—
He, thy untitled king, whoſe liberal mind
Genius enrich'd, and diſcipline refin'd;
Whoſe potent voice control'd a people free,
As Heaven's preſiding breath commands the ſea—
He, who delighted on fine Art to raiſe
The deathleſs fabric of his country's praiſe;
Taught public wealth to rear ingenious worth,
Exalted Nature, and embelliſh'd earth—
He, by mild virtues to the world endear'd,
Whoſe dying boaſt Humanity rever'd—
E'en he, by fits of martial frenzy ſway'd,
To blood's dire demons a raſh offering made;
[58]And, blind to ill his nature muſt abhor,
Hurried his nation to that fatal war
Whoſe lengthen'd horrors on his Athens threw
Diſgrace that Death hid kindly from his view,
When at the ſavage Spartan's foot ſhe lay;
Her ſhame his pride, her ornaments his prey*.
Wherever Liberty, when doom'd to weep
In tranſient pangs, or ſink in death-like ſleep,
Loſt her quick ſpirit, wounded or betray'd,
Her foſter'd Arts with filial grief decay'd.
But ſhort, in Athens, was the baleful courſe
Of envious Tyranny and Spartan force.
Her thirty tyrants, with a robber's dread,
From the juſt arm of Traſybulus fled:
His patriot virtue burſt the ſervile yoke,
And, bright from brief eclipſe, effulgent Freedom broke;
Attendant Arts her ſatellites appear,
And ſhed new luſtre round her Attic ſphere.
[59]
When happy Genius, by a daring flight,
Has ſeem'd to perch on proud Perfection's height,
Afraid on diſproportion'd wings to riſe,
Aw'd and abaſh'd, weak Emulation dies.
Such fate had Poeſy for Homer's Muſe,
No Greek with proſperous rivalſhip purſues.
Sculpture, more fruitful, though ſhe joy'd to claim
For her dear Phidias pure Homeric fame,
Not to one darling felt her pride confin'd,
But to new ſons new excellence aſſign'd*.
Scopas! in wond'rous harmony 'twas thine
The charms of paſſion and of grace to join;
Thy ſkill expreſs'd new ſhades of ſoft deſire,
Each varying character of Cupid's fire.
In thy gay figure Bacchus ſmil'd to ſee
His gambols of tumultuary glee.
Thy genius wrought, by different powers inſpir'd,
As fondneſs wiſh'd, or dignity requir'd!
[60]'Twas thine to decorate the gorgeous ſcene,
Where Arts were proud to aid the Carian queen.
Richly ſhe rais'd, for widow'd love's relief,
The grand memorial of imperial grief,
The Mauſoleum, whoſe immortal name
Records her ſorrow, and preſerves her fame.
Of feelings exquiſite, to fondneſs prone,
And pleas'd to make peculiar praiſe thy own,
Praxiteles! the power that ſway'd thee moſt,
Made it thy joy, thy privilege, thy boaſt,
To ſee coy Beauty own thy kind control,
And ſhow each ſoft emotion of her ſoul;
While breathing ſtone accompliſh'd thy beheſt,
And every charm of tender grace expreſs'd;
Till thy fine Work ſuch perfect life diſplay'd,
Venus with pride her marble ſelf ſurvey'd.
Enchanting artiſt! whoſe warm heart was ſeen
Devoting all thy ſkill to Beauty's queen!
'Twas not thy fate to ſerve a thankleſs power;
Her ſmile is gratitude, delight her dower.
[61]Love, her young darling, thy dear Art careſs'd,
Child of thy genius, ſovereign of thy breaſt!
Thy ſportive patroneſs to thy embrace
Conſign'd the faireſt of her Grecian race,
Whoſe wit to beauty could new charms impart,
Pleas'd to inſpirit and reward thy art.
This playful fair would ſecret knowledge ſeek,
Which her unboaſting friend declin'd to ſpeak:
She wiſh'd to know (a wiſh in vain expreſs'd)
Which of his happy works he deem'd the beſt:
The beſt is hers, if ſhe the beſt will chooſe,
But ſelf-applauſe his modeſt lips refuſe.
A ſubtle fiction aids her ſtrong deſire:
"Praxiteles! thy gallery's on fire!"
With fear well feign'd the fond enthuſiaſt cries.
Quick, in alarm, the man of art replies:
"Oh, angry Vulcan! mar each meaner ſhape,
"But let my Cupid and my Faun eſcape!"
The ſmiling fair relieves him in a trice,
And Cupid, ſoon her own, repays the fond device*.
[62]
Of ſterner ſpirit, and with bold deſign,
Toiling in two congenial arts to ſhine,
With energetic truth Euphranor wrought
The forceful features of heroic thought;
And ere the youth a vanquiſh'd world o'errun,
In glory's car he ſeated Philip's ſon*.
Hail to that graceful youth! whoſe fervid mind
Feeling and taſte in early life refin'd;
Who on the ſoul of cheriſh'd art impreſs'd
That zeal for glory which his own confeſs'd!
Let the ſtern ſage chaſtiſe with Reaſon's rod,
Ambition's victim, and Delirium's god,
More pleaſing duties to the bard belong,
While tracing Sculpture's march in moral ſong.
Honour's juſt tribute to the prince he pays,
Who view'd her beauty with a lover's gaze;
And nobly ſav'd it from a quick decline
By liberal care, and bounty's warmth benign:
Who bade her favourite ſon his power ſurpaſs,
And call to life in fame-conferring braſs
[63](A work, where Gratitude with glory blends!)
His guardian group, his ſelf-devoted friends.
Proud of the victor's praiſe, and pleas'd to aid
A hero's ſpirit by affection ſway'd,
With ſuch enchanting ſkill Lyſippus' hand
Rais'd to diſtinction this devoted band,
That as each Macedon their forms beheld,
With kindred fire each martial boſom ſwell'd;
Each for their lot would gladly yield his breath,
And deem their honor cheaply bought by death.
How bleſt, Lyſippus! was thy ſignal fate,
Whoſe genius found all graces in the great!
Nature and Fortune ſeem'd for thee to blend,
In one bright form, the model, patron, friend.
His taſte enlighten'd whom his power ſuſtain'd,
And in the ſculptor's heart the hero reign'd.
Hence, for thy godlike Ammon 'twas thy praiſe
Each varying ſemblance of his form to raiſe;
Marking of changeful life the gradual courſe,
From childhood's tenderneſs to manhood's force;
[64]And theſe appropriate images to fill
With ſuch felicity of latent ſkill
As labour, led by love alone, can find,
By love, the offspring of a grateful mind.
Ever, Lyſippus! be thy name rever'd,
By moral dignity of mind endear'd!
Glory, well-pleas'd, thy double worth beheld,
The matchleſs artiſt by the man excell'd;
Thy upright ſpirit, firm in manly ſenſe,
Scorning to favour impious Pride's pretence,
Reprov'd thy friend Apelles, that he ſtrove
To laviſh lightning on a fancied Jove;
And to thy ſtatue, rationally grand,
Gave the juſt weapon of a hero's hand.
Thy taſte ador'd, with Virtue's temperate flame,
Truth, as the fountain both of art and fame;
Yet no ill-founded rule, no ſervile fear,
Chain'd thy free mind in Fancy's fav'rite ſphere.
Thy dauntleſs thought, proportion for its guide,
From life's trite field each brave excurſion tried:
[65]Thy changeful genius, patient and acute,
Toil'd on coloſſal forms, or play'd with the minute;
And Nature own'd each work, with fond ſurprize,
True to her ſoul, though faithleſs to her ſize.
The hallow'd bulk of thy Tarentine Jove
Check'd the proud ſpoilers of each ſacred grove;
Roman rapacity, in plunder's hour,
Paus'd, and rever'd the mighty ſculptor's power.
Thy Hercules, the table's grace and guard,
Rais'd to extatic joy a Roman bard,
Whoſe ſocial Muſe delighted to rehearſe
The feſtive ſtatue's charms in friendly verſe;
Prais'd the ſmall form where force and ſpirit dwelt,
Small to be ſeen, but mighty to be felt;
And, pleas'd in grateful numbers to relate
The ſculptur'd powers, Felicity and Fate,
Told how young Ammon, with affection's pride,
Drew martial fire from this inſpiring guide—
This, the choice idol of his life, careſs'd
To prompt his battle, or protect his reſt—
[66]To this, when poiſon forc'd his frequent ſighs,
Turning, in death, his elevated eyes,
He view'd the pain-tried power with freſh delight,
And fed his fearleſs ſpirit on the ſight.
The life of Ammon clos'd, the ſtatue paſs'd
To a new victor of a direr caſt.
With ruthleſs Hannibal, by Rome abhorr'd,
The priz'd aſſociate of the Punic lord,
This idol viſited Italia's ſhore,
And ſaw Rome's eagles drench'd in Roman gore:
But when the African, ſo fiercely great,
Fell by the dark viciſſitude of fate,
This ſculptur'd Hercules, ſtill known to Fame,
As worſhipp'd by a chief of higheſt name,
Felt, e'en in Rome, his influence increas'd,
As the preſiding power of Sylla's feaſt.
The darling image Time at laſt conſign'd
To a new maſter, of a nobler mind.
Hail, gentle Vindex! 'twas not thine to buy
A name immortal at a price too high.
[67]No bloody ſword, with mangled Nature's pain,
Carv'd thee a paſſage into glory's fane,
But manners ſweetly mild, and mental grace,
In Mem'ry's temple fix thy purer place.
Thy genuine praiſe Affection gladly penn'd;
For Arts were thy delight, a poet was thy friend.
Happy diſtinction! and rever'd by Time!
Sweet in its uſe, in conſequence ſublime!
Accompliſh'd Vindex! all thy ſculptur'd ſtore,
Though Genius fill'd with life the finiſh'd ore—
All that thy perfect taſte, by Fortune's aid,
With liberal joy collected and diſplay'd—
All, all in dark Perdition's gulph are drown'd,
Nor can an atom of the wreck be found.
But ſhining ſtill, and ſtill in luſtre ſtrong,
Such is the ſacred power of friendly ſong,
Thy virtues are beheld in living lays,
Where feeling Statius thy pure feaſt pourtrays,
And makes thy cheriſh'd Arts confederate in thy praiſe.
[68]He, juſt to merit of benignant mein,
Fondly deſcribes the maſter of the ſcene
So free from ſenſeleſs pride and ſenſual vice,
Of mind ſo poliſh'd, and of taſte ſo nice,
That under his regard, true honour's teſt,
Lyſippus might have wiſh'd his works to reſt*.
To reſt! vain word, that ſuits not ſcenes like theſe,
Where empires fluctuate as Time decrees!
The mighty deſpot, of a double ſway,
The guide of growth, the monarch of decay,
Grants, ever buſy in the changeful plan,
No laſting quiet to the works of man.
Witneſs, Lyſippus, that ſtupendous frame
Form'd by thy pupil for his country's fame;
Who, when foil'd War renounc'd her rich abodes,
Rear'd the proud trophy of triumphant Rhodes
In giant ſplendour which the world amaz'd,
Protentous in his bulk this proud Apollo blaz'd;
[69]So large, ſo lotfy, that, beneath his baſe,
Mortals ſeem'd ſhrunk below the pigmy race.
Yet let not vain, ſenſorious ſpleen deride
This Pagan monument of tow'ring pride.
Great in his aim, in patriot purpoſe good,
A glorious witneſs the Coloſſus ſtood:
How his brave iſle, in valour's trying hour,
Joy'd to reſiſt Invaſion's ruffian power;
Still to invading arms this fortune fall,
To deck thoſe iſles they threaten to enthrall.
But with what ſpeed can time and chance deſtroy
The piles of honour, and the pomp of joy!
Though rear'd with ableſt art that might defy
Tempeſtuous ſeaſons and a raging ſky,
Subtler Deſtruction waits the ſovereign block,
The deep foundations of his iſland rock;
Earth, as inſulted, to her center ſhakes,
Th' enormous idol reels—he falls—he breaks!
Amazement's eye his ſmalleſt fragments fill,
In ruin mighty, and a wonder ſtill:
[70]His fall is felt through Glory's wounded heart,
And Grief's convulſionſhakes the ſphere of Art*.
Ye Rhodians! early a diſtinguiſh'd race
For arts and arms, Minerva's double grace;
Ye, who around this ſhatter'd maſs lament
Your honour ruin'd in the dire event!
Mourn not your fall'n Coloſſus, but complain
Of change more ruinous to Sculpture's reign!
Mourn for degenerate Athens, where the king,
From whoſe foil'd arms your ſtatue ſeem'd to ſpring,
No more reſiſted, finds a ſervile crowd
Tam'd to his yoke, and in his praiſes loud;
Where Art is ſeen, in Proſtitution's hour,
Dejecting virtue, and exalting power.
Ye ſlaves! who ſtation, blind to public good,
A tyrant's ſtatues where a ſage's ſtood!
Ye prove the love of liberty alone
Enlivens Art with luſtre all its own.
[71]Where that beſt paſſion of the ſoul refin'd,
That firm Coloſſus of th' unſhaken mind—
Where that exiſts no more, all mental power
Takes the cold tint of twilight's ſunleſs hour;
The energies of Art and Virtue ceaſe,
Servility benumbs the ſoul of Greece*.
That wondrous land, where Nature ſeem'd to ſhower
A bright profuſion of all mental power;
Where talents glitter'd to delight the mind,
Rich as the groves by ſilv'ry froſt enſhrin'd;
From her ſpoil'd ſhores ſaw every grace withdraw,
Like groves unſilver'd in a miſty thaw;
While Strife and Slavery, in union baſe,
Disfigure earth, and Nature's ſelf deface,
The tender Arts in haſty terror fly,
To ſeek a refuge in a milder ſky;
Driv'n from their darling Athens for a while,
They ſeem'd reviving by a monarch's ſmile:
[72]Seleucias' Court the fugitives careſs'd,
And Aegypt nurs'd them on her fertile breaſt.
But not the Ptolemies' imperial grace,
A bounteous, ſplendid, but enervate race—
Not all their fond protection could impart
True Attic luſtrè to tranſplanted Art:
The ſweet exotic ſcorn'd the ſoil it tried,
And, faintly promiſing to flouriſh, died*.
Genius of Greece! whom love can ne'er forget!
Exhauſtleſs ſource of rapture and regret!
Of all the changes that Time's wild command
Works on this globe, the rattle of his hand,
Is there viciſſitude more worthy tears
Than what in thy diſaſtrous fate appears,
When Learning's retroſpective eyes ſurvey
Thy bright aſcendant, and thy dark decay!
Reſiſtleſs deſpot! all-controlling Time!
Though Pride may curſe thy ravage as a crime;
[73]Let Truth, more juſt, thy milder power declare,
And boaſt with gratitude thy zeal to ſpare;
For thou haſt ſpar'd—and be ſuch mercy bleſt,
Of Grecia's literary chiefs the beſt.
The pure Triumvirate, of potent minds,
Whom in her zone ideal Beauty binds;
The radiant three, who palms unrivall'd bore
In verſe, in eloquence, in moral lore—
Yes, in the letter'd world, that lofty ſphere
Whence light deſcends to Art divinely clear.
Great is thy clemency, O Time! nor leſs
Thy zeal to ſave, may Sculpture's field expreſs*!
Man's rage has given to Havoc's hateful powers
Gods and their altars, ſtatues, temples, towers:
But mark where Time, with more benignant pride,
Redeems the wreck of deſolation's tide!
Lo, at his bidding, curious hands explore
Imperial Ruin's ſubterranean ſtore!
[74]Behold where once a virtuous emp'ror glow'd,
And thy rich bath, benignant Titus! flow'd!
For ages buried, and Oblivion's prey,
The maſter-piece of Sculpture ſprings to day.
How Rapture bends o'er the receding earth,
Bleſſing the ſkilful wonder's ſecond birth!
Hail, thou ſublime reſemblance of the ſire,
Excruciated to ſee his helpleſs ſons expire!
Though Fate's fierce ſerpent round thy manly frame
Wind its vaſt volumes, and with deadly aim
Dart its impetuous poiſon near the heart;
Though thy ſhrunk flank announce the wounded part;
To ſelfiſh pangs ſuperior thou art ſeen,
And ſuffering anguiſh, more intenſely keen,
I ſee the father in thy features riſe,
To Heaven directing his death-darken'd eyes,
And for his ſons, in agony's extreme,
Yet aſking mercy from the ſire ſupreme!
Alas! thy younger hope, already pierc'd
By quick Perdition's ſnake, expires the firſt!
[75]Thy elder darling, lock'd in ſnaky folds,
With fruitleſs pity his rack'd ſire beholds!
Ye happy Sculptors! who in this your pride
Enjoy th' immortal fame for which you ſigh'd!
Your bleſt ambition Ruin's hand diſarms;
Hoſtility reveres the work, whoſe charms
At once amaze the mind, and melt the heart,
The ſoul of pathos, the ſublime of Art!
Let Rhodes, exulting in your birth, proclaim
Her title to renown, her Ageſander's name—
Him, if kind Fancy ſanction with applauſe
The pleaſing picture that conjecture draws—
Him, life's beſt bleſſings once were ſeen to crown,
Bleſſings more rare than genius or renown—
The bliſs, to ſee two ſons in art aſpire
To ſerve as friendly rivals to their ſire!
The triple group, ſo ſuited to their ſtate,
They form'd with parity of love elate;
[76]And Nature, pleas'd, gave all her powers to fill
This richeſt offspring of confederate ſkill*.
Nor haſt thou, Sculpture! on whoſe ancient ſtate
The train of paſſions all were known to wait,
Thy deep and ſpirit-ſearching charms confin'd
To ſhow the conflict of a father's mind:
Thy Niobe yet lives, a glorious teſt,
Thou could'ſt exhibit the maternal breaſt,
Where gods relentleſs every pang deſcried
Of wretched beauty, and of ruin'd pride.
Yes, Attic Art! each change of vital breath,
Of life the fervour, and the chill of death,
All, all were ſubject to thy glorious power;
Nature was thine, in ever-varying hour:
Witneſs that offspring of thy ſkill profound,
Thy Gladiator, bending to the ground,
In whom the eye of ſympathy deſcries
His brief exiſtence ebbing as he lies
[77]With riſing wonder, and increaſing joy,
As Grecian reliques my fond thoughts employ,
Her time-ſpar'd marble miracles I trace—
Marbles of higheſt note, ſtrength, beauty, grace—
In each Olympian form divinely ſhown,
Who boaſt theſe heavenly attributes their own.
On Glycon's Hercules the proud eye reſts,
Dwells on that force which all the form inveſts,
Till the ſpectator glows with vigor's flame,
And feels the god reanimate his frame*.
In perfect forms what potent magic dwells,
Thy peerleſs fragment of perfection tells,
Skill'd Apolonius! whoſe fine work expreſs'd
This forceful deity in bliſsful reſt!
How dear thy Torſo to the feeling mind,
Rememb'ring Angelo, when old and blind,
Fed, on this wreck, the paſſion of his heart
For the recondite charms of pureſt art!
[78]The veteran, while his hand, with ſcience fraught,
Rov'd o'er the ſtone ſo exquiſitely wrought,
(His fancy giving the maim'd trunk a ſoul,)
Saw, in his touch, the grandeur of the whole*.
Joys on the ſwelling mind more richly ſhower
When beauty's manly and majeſtic power
Shines, ſweetly awful, in Apollo's form,
Elate with filial love, with anger warm
Againſt the ſerpent whoſe terrific creſt
Aim'd its baſe fury at his mother's breaſt.
His ſhaft is launch'd; 'tis empire's fateful rod;
His fervid geſture proves the victor god;
His glowing features the firm ſoul diſplay
Of confident ſucceſs and righteous ſway.
Enchanting image! thy pure charms conduce
To moral leſſons of no trifling uſe:
Thee while the faſcinated eyes admire,
The ſpirit, kindling with indignant fire,
[79]Learns that bright ſcorn, which in thy movement glows,
Scorn for the rancour of malignant foes*!
In milder tones, kind Harmony! impart
Thy magic ſoftneſs to the melting heart;
While Love's ingenuous ſong aſpires to trace
The ſweeter influence of female grace!
Hail, Medicean Venus! matchleſs form!
As Nature modeſt, yet as Fancy warm!
Thy beauty, mov'd by virtuous inſtinct, tries
To ſcreen retiring charms from raſh ſurpriſe:
Thy hands are eloquent; they both atteſt
The coy emotion of thy feeling breaſt;
And prove, by delicacy's dear control,
Her quick ſenſations are of grace the ſoul.
Thou darling idol of the Pagan earth!
Whoſe pomp had vaniſh'd at thy ſecond birth,
When, from Oblivion's ſhades that o'er thee hung,
Thy ſoft attractions to new honour ſprung;
[80]To thee, ſweet pride of Nature and of Art!
Be endleſs homage from the manly heart
Which bends, obedient to a law divine,
In guiltleſs worſhip to ſuch charms as thine!
Though mortals, wayward when by Fortune croſs'd,
Slight what they have, in mourning what they loſt;
Let us, dear Flaxman! with a grateful joy
On Sculpture's reſcu'd wealth our thoughts employ.
O, while with Friendſhip's pure, though proud deſires,
I praiſe that Art, who thy free ſpirit fires,
May thy pleas'd goddeſs, with her kind regard,
Support, inſtruct, invigorate thy bard,
Till my fond fancy, by her aid refin'd,
Fills with new zeal thy energetic mind
Yet far above her living ſons to ſoar,
And match the wonders of her Attic ſtore!
Yes there is room, and Chriſtian ſubjects yield
For Art's ſublimeſt aims a happier field:
But pauſe, my eager ſong! nor yet rehearſe
A fav'rite truth reſerv'd for future verſe*;
[81]Another taſk awaits thee, to ſurvey
Scenes of Etrurian art and Roman ſway:
Yet pauſe, and, liſtening to the wintry main,
In this retreat let Meditation reign!
Here ſalutary Solitude repairs
The ſpirit waſted by afflicting cares:
Here reſt, while Study for thy uſe explores
Art's early fate on thoſe eventful ſhores,
Where, hardly reſcu'd from Oblivion's tomb,
Poliſh'd Etruria ſunk by ſavage Rome;
And Rome, whoſe pride an iron tempeſt hurl'd
With force oppreſſive round a proſtrate world,
Sunk in her turn, herſelf the bloated prey
Of Retribution's wrath, in ruinous decay.
THE END OF THE THIRD EPISTLE.

EPISTLE THE FOURTH.
[]EPISTLE IV.

[]
Inter fumantes templorum armata ruinas
Dextera victoris ſimulacra hoſtilia cepit,
Et captiva domum venerans ceu numina vexit:
Hoc ſignum rapuit bimaris de ſtrage Corinthi,
Illud ab incenſis in praedam ſumpſit Athenis.
PRUDENTIUS.
[]
ARGUMENT OF THE FOURTH EPISTLE.

Etruria.—Rome.—Viſion of Hadrian's Villa.

INGENUOUS FLAXMAN! thy juſt ſoul delights
To ſee oppreſs'd Deſert regain his rights.
Oft haſt thou prais'd, as far as truth allow'd,
Rude talent ſtruggling through misfortune's cloud!
With generous patience thou canſt deign to trace
Through dim Tradition's ſhade Etruria's race.
Ingenious nation! hapleſs in thy doom!
The ſlave and teacher of the upſtart Rome!
Her fierce ambition from the page of Fame
Seem'd eager to eraſe thy ſofter name:
[86]But while ſhe borrow'd, in thy plunder clad,
Thy train of augurs, ominouſly ſad,
Dark Superſtition's more deſpotic weight
Preſs'd on her fancy, and aveng'd thy fate!
Obedient ſervant of a ſavage queen!
Thee ſhe employ'd to deck her proudeſt ſcene.
Thy pliant artiſts, at the victor's nod,
For her new temple form'd the guardian god:
Her patrons, deſtin'd to ſuch wide command,
Aroſe the offspring of a Tuſcan hand.
Ye injur'd votaries of Art, whoſe ſkill,
Emerg'd from darkneſs, and emerging ſtill,
Shines through Oppreſſion's ſtorm, whoſe envious ſweep
Had ſunk your language in her lawleſs deep!
Expert Etrurians, who, with rapid toil,
Form'd the fine vaſe Oblivion's power to foil!
Your bards to baſe annihilation doom'd
Hiſtory, who ſpurn'd the grave, herſelf entomb'd:
Friendly conjecture can alone ſuggeſt
How Fortune on your coaſt young Art careſs'd.
[87]
'Tis ſaid that Aegypt was your early guide;
That Greece, more ſocial, all your ſkill ſupplied,
The fond idolaters of Greece pretend:
But bounteous Nature was your leading friend;
She frankly gave you the prime ſource of ſkill,
The fervid ſpirit, and the lively will,
To call Invention from her coy receſs,
And bid juſt Form the young idea dreſs.
Let different Arts with gen'rous pride proclaim
Inventive Genius form'd Etruria's fame.
Mars as a gift from her his trumpet found,
And Honour's heart exulted in the ſound;
To her, e'en Athens, as the learn'd declare,
Might owe the maſk dramatic Muſes wear*.
But, O Etruria! whatſoe'er the price
Of thy ingenious toil and rare device,
Of all thy produce, I applaud thee moſt
For thy mild Lares, thy peculiar boaſt.
[88]'Twas thine in Sculpture's ſacred ſcene to place
Domeſtic deities of ſocial grace,
Whoſe happy favour, on the heart impreſs'd,
Made home the paſſion of the virtuous breaſt*.
O that fond Labour's hand, with Learning's aid,
Could reſcue from Oblivion's envious ſhade
Artiſts, defrauded of their deathleſs due,
Who once a glory round Etruria threw,
When, with her flag of tranſient fame unfurl'd,
She ſhone the wonder of the weſtern world!
Eclipſing Greece, ere rais'd to nobler life,
Greece learnt to triumph o'er barbaric ſtrife;
Driving her Argonauts, her naval boaſt,
Foil'd in ſharp conflict, from the Tyrrhene coaſt.
But Deſolation, in her cruel courſe,
Ruſh'd o'er Etruria with ſuch ruthleſs force,
That, of her art-devoted ſons, whoſe ſkill
With ſculptur'd treaſures could her cities fill
[89]In ſuch profuſe and luminous diſplay,
That Roman avarice mark'd them for her prey,
Mem'ry can hardly on her tablets give
More than a ſingle Tyrrhene name to live.
Mneſarchus, early as a ſculptor known,
From nice inciſion of the coſtly ſtone,
But more endear'd to every later age
As the bleſt ſire of that abſtemious ſage;
Who, born and nurtur'd on Etruria's ſhore,
Refin'd her ſpirit by his temp'rate lore,
And in Crotona gloried to diſplay
His mild morality's benignant ſway*.
Bleſt were Etrurian art, if, ſpar'd by Time,
Forth from the caverns of her ravag'd clime
She could preſent to Admiration's gaze
Each ſculptur'd worthy of her proſperous days,
Who won, by labours of a virtuous mind,
The benedictions of improv'd mankind.
[90]But one vaſt whirlpool of oblivious night
Abſorb'd together, in fair Fame's deſpite,
Men who there roſe the paths of fame to fill,
Her hoſts of valour, and her tribes of ſkill;
All, who might hope to gain, or hope to give,
The noble-lot, through many an age to live,
Save a few reliques fondly kept, to deck
The cabinet of Taſte, from Glory's wreck.
There ſhines, not deſtitute of martial grace,
Her brave Haleſus, of Argolic race*;
There every brazen, every marble frame,
Mute, mournful ſhadows of Etruria's fame,
Yet ſeen declaring, on their country's part,
She might have vied with Attica in art,
Had ſhe not fallen, in her early bloom,
The ſtripp'd and mangled ſlave of barbarous Rome.
Yes, thou imperial ſpoiler! I abhor
Thy ceaſeleſs paſſion for oppreſſive war,
[91]Thy rage for rapine, and the pride malign
In the vaſt plunder of the world to ſhine.
Woe to the land, abjuring Arts refin'd,
That aſk the patient hand, the poliſh'd mind;
And vaunting only with tyrannic ſway
To make ſurrounding provinces their prey:—
Rapacious arrogance, for outrage ſtrong,
May boaſt a cruel triumph, loud and long;
At laſt the coarſe gigantic glutton dies,
O'ergorg'd, and ſinking from his bloated ſize:
So ſunk the ſpoiler Rome, who from her birth
Drew execration from the bleeding earth.
Too fierce for Arts, that claim a milder ſoul,
Their works ſhe blindly prais'd, or baſely ſtole*.
Faſt bound or ſilenc'd in her iron ſpell,
Her ill-ſtarr'd neighbour firſt, Etruria fell.
Far, as her force increas'd, her rapine ſpread;
Beneath her graſp the ſweet Sicilia bled;
[92]And, amply deck'd with Beauty's ſculptur'd charms,
Fair Syracuſe was ſpoil'd by ſavage arms.
There Roman avarice, of ruthleſs heart,
Firſt gloated on her prey of Grecian Art;
And like a blood-hound, on the taſte of gore,
Hunted with fierce inquietude for more*.
Her wider ravages Achaia crown'd;
The richeſt feaſt her ravenous eagles found!
Lo, Corinth blazes in conſuming flame!
Corinth, the ſplendid favourite of Fame!
Her ſhrines, her ſtatues, brazen, ſilver, gold,
In one promiſcuous conflagration roll'd,
To a vaſt furnace of perdition turn;
The mingled ores in fiery torrents burn;
And Havoc's hateful ſons, in ſportive rage,
Annihilate the toil of many an age,
The treaſury of Sculpture, where ſhe ſtor'd
Thoſe wonders of her hand that Taſte ador'd.
[93]The ſavage victor would his triumph fill
By bearing proudly home ſome works of ſkill:
But, deſtitute of ſenſe as blind to grace,
Deems that a common hand may ſoon replace
Works that in Talent's cultivated hours
Roſe, the ſlow growth of rareſt Grecian powers.
Inſenſate ravager! why deck thy land
With ſpoils thy heroes cannot underſtand*?
Thy country, who, a ſtranger to remorſe,
Trains all her ſons to deeds of brutal force;
She ne'er the ſweet and graceful pride ſhall know
That taught the heart of lovelier Greece to glow,
When ſhe had rear'd, and hail'd with fond acclaim,
The liberal artiſt of accompliſh'd fame.
On Rome's ſtern breaſt no Phidias can be bred,
Of whom his proud compatriots fondly ſaid,
'Twas a misfortune, as Athenians thought,
To die, and not have ſeen the works he wrought.
[94]
Greece, wiſely conſcious that fine arts require
Such penſive energy, ſuch mental fire,
As Honour aſks, in every poliſh'd age,
To form the martial chief, or moral ſage,
Cheriſh'd her artiſts with maternal pride,
And bright Diſtinction their rich power ſupplied.
Her ſculptors baſk'd in national eſteem,
As the young eagle in the ſolar beam,
Rever'd as men, whoſe faculties ſublime
Secur'd their country's fame from envious Time;
Who doubly foil'd the darkneſs of the grave,
And ſhar'd the immortality they gave*.
How different the Roman ſculptor's fate,
Who follow'd, in a tame and abject ſtate,
An art, not rais'd to glory or to grace,
Deem'd the poor trade of a dependent race.
The chiſſel to a ſervile hand conſign'd,
Shews but the weakneſs of a ſervile mind.
[95]Hence liberal Sculpture rais'd no Roman name
High in her annals of ingenious fame;
And hence the Goddeſs, with a ſcornful ſmile,
Spurns the diſtinction of her Roman ſtyle*.
With juſt diſdain, that to abhorrence ſwell'd,
She the baſe arrogance of Rome beheld;
Saw Roman robbers, of heroic ſize,
Not merely ſeize, as bold Ambition's prize,
Her deareſt wealth in deſolated Greece;
But, as preſumption will with ſpoils increaſe,
From her Greek ſtatue its juſt name efface,
And fix a lying title in its place.
So ruffian Pride, that Fortune deigns to crown,
Would, with a ſwindler's fraud, uſurp renown.
While dauntleſs Truth, undazzled by the blaze
Of Rome's fierce power in her deſpotic days,
Upbraids that Empreſs, with reproof ſevere,
For follies and for crimes, in Sculpture's ſphere:
[96]While Scorn condemns her rapine and her fraud,
With equal warmth let Juſtice ſtill applaud
One proof of noble ſpirit that prevail'd
E'en in this very ſphere, where moſt ſhe fail'd.
Yes, it was ſpirit ſuited to ſuch worth
As well might claim pre-eminence on earth,
Which in the walls he labour'd to o'erthrow,
Honour'd the ſtatue of her fierceſt foe.
Such brave regard, the ſoldier's brighteſt crown,
Rome nobly paid to Hannibal's renown:
And more ſublime of ſoul ſhe ne'er appear'd
Than when ſhe grac'd the chief whom once ſhe fear'd.
True Valour thus his genuine temper ſhews,
Juſt to the talents of accompliſh'd foes*.
Bright Excellence! 'tis thine, in evil days
To joy in Enmity's extorted praiſe:
So Grecian Art, her parent ſtate undone,
From Roman pride reluctant homage won.
[97]Rough was his worſhip paid to Sculpture's charms,
That injur'd beauty in a ruffian's arms!
Who view'd her grace with uninſtructed eyes,
Proud to poſſeſs, though wanting taſte to prize.
Gods! how regret and indignation glow
When Hiſtory, mourning over Grecian woe,
Deſcribes the fortune of each ſplendid fane,
Where Sculpture ſeem'd with ſacred ſway to reign!
Lo, like a whirlwind by fierce demons driven
At once disfiguring earth and dark'ning Heaven,
Sylla, the bloodieſt vulture, gorg'd with gore,
The keeneſt wretch that ever Rapine bore,
Extends o'er proſtrate Greece oppreſſion's rod,
And pillages the ſhrine of every god!
Thy glories, Elis!—Epidaurus! thine,
And Delphos, (richeſt treaſury divine!)
Defenceleſs fall in Devaſtation's day,
Of this inſatiate ravager the prey!
The plunderer, who no compunction feels,
Builds future greatneſs on the god he ſteals;
[98]With a ſmall ſtatue, ſeiz'd on Grecia's coaſt,
The ſubtle homicide new-nerv'd his hoſt;
When on the battle's edge they doubtful ſtood,
This god he brought, to make his battle good;
Before his troops the fraudful ſavage preſs'd
This ſculptur'd patron to his impious breaſt;
Invok'd, to haſten what his vows implor'd,
The vict'ry promis'd to his eager ſword!
So fraud, and force, and fortune made him great,
To ſhine an emblem of the Roman ſtate.
Her he reſembled in his varying day,
In growth portentous, loathſome in decay:
He, whoſe fierce pride (all human feelings fled)
On blood the hell-hounds of Proſcription fed,
Met not a righteous ſword, or potent hand,
To free from ſuch a peſt his native land.
Yet though he ſtemm'd the ſtreams of blood he ſpilt,
He died a leſſon to gigantic guilt;
For on his bed of death as long he lay,
Avenging vermin made his living frame their prey;
[99]And he, whoſe thirſt of power and thirſt of praiſe
Taught Fortune's temple in new pomp to blaze—
He, who amaſs'd, to deck his days of peace,
The ſculptur'd opulence of ravag'd Greece,
Sunk from his ſplendid maſs of power and fame
To the poor ſound of a deteſted name*.
A mightier victor, of a nobler ſoul,
Yet darken'd by ambition's dire control,
The fearleſs Caeſar, of indulgent heart,
Shone the protecting friend of Grecian art.
Of tyrants moſt accompliſh'd and benign,
'Twas his in genius and in taſte to ſhine.
Could talents give a claim to empire's robe,
He might have liv'd the maſter of the globe:
But pride imperious that o'er-leap'd all bound,
Deſerv'd from Roman hands the fate he found.
Yet ſhall the deſpot, though he juſtly bleeds,
Receive the praiſes due to graceful deeds:
[100]His rival's ſtatues, by mean ſlaves diſgrac'd,
He in their public dignity replac'd.
His zeal for Sculpture, and his liberal care
To force the grave her buried works to ſpare,
To guard the reſcu'd, and the loſt to ſeek,
Let Corinth, riſing from her ruins, ſpeak.
That brilliant queen of Arts, at Caeſar's word,
Sprung from her aſhes, like th' Arabian bird:
Her great reſtorer, fond of glory's blaze,
Sought to be firſt in every path of praiſe;
And found, in favour'd Art's reviving charms,
Delight ſuperior to ſucceſsful arms.
Had the firm Brutus not pronounc'd his doom,
His power to faſcinate relenting Rome,
His varying genius, faſhion'd to prevail
In peaceful projects of the grandeſt ſcale,
Would o'er the ſtate have thrown ſuch dazzling light,
And foil'd reſiſtance with a blaze ſo bright,
Freedom herſelf, enamour'd of his fame,
Might have been almoſt tempted to exclaim,
[101]"I ſee his benefits his wrongs tranſcend,
"And all the tyrant vaniſh in the friend!"
Julius! thou proof how miſts of pride may blind
The eye of reaſon in the ſtrongeſt mind!
It was thy fatal weakneſs to believe
Thy ſculptur'd form from Romans might receive
Homage as tame as Aſian ſlaves could pay
Their Babyloniſh king, of boundleſs ſway,
Where all, for leave his city gate to paſs,
Bent to his ſtatue of imperial braſs.
With equal pomp, by vain ambition plac'd,
Thy ſculptur'd form the Capitol diſgrac'd;
For, on a trampled globe, inſulting ſenſe,
It ſought to awe the world with proud pretence.
Nor didſt thou only in thy proper frame
Call Art to ſecond thy aſpiring aim:
Thy fav'rite ſteed, from whoſe portentous birth
Augurs announc'd thy reign o'er all this earth,
Nurs'd with fond care, beſtrid by thee alone,
In Sculpture's conſecrated beauty ſhone.
[102]Before the fane of that celeſtial power,
Said, with parental ſmiles, to bleſs thy natal hour*.
Miſguided Julius! all the wide control
Which force and frankneſs in thy fearleſs ſoul
To thy firm graſp deluſively aſſur'd,
Conſummate cunning to thy heir ſecur'd.
Bluſh, bluſh, ye poets of Auguſtan days,
For all your pomp of proſtituted praiſe!
The man, ſo magnified through Flatt'ry's cloud,
Hymns to whoſe honour ye have ſung ſo loud,
Seems, to the eye of an impartial age,
The prince of jugglers upon Fortune's ſtage,
Whom fear inſpir'd with artifice ſupreme
To win from ſlaves their prodigal eſteem.
Ye lovely Arts! whoſe beauty and whoſe uſe
So largely to the weal of man conduce!
What might not Earth, in your propitious hours,
Expect from efforts of your blended powers,
[103]Beneath the guidance of a mind elate,
Supremely juſt, and uniformly great,
If baſe Octavius by your aid could ſhine
To dazzle Romans with a light divine?
Peace to his crimes! though on their blackeſt dye
The blood of Tully ſeems aloud to cry;
While foſter'd Arts for their protector claim
No common portion of pacific fame.
He ſaw the rock on which bold Julius run,
And deeply labour'd the bright ſnare to ſhun.
The ſubtle deſpot wore a ſervant's maſk;
Though able to command, he ſtoop'd to aſk:
The eyes of envy from himſelf to turn,
Thy ſplendour, Rome! appear'd his ſole concern.
Though fear devis'd, it was a graceful plan
(And Taſte achiev'd what trembling Power began)
To bid fair Sculpture a new pomp aſſume,
And ſit the public patroneſs of Rome:
For ſuch great charge to her he ſeem'd to give,
When the loſt worthies ſhe had taught to live
[104]Whoſe blended merits in the tide of Time
Rais'd Roman-glory to her height ſublime;
Rang'd in his Forum with Auguſtan care,
Heard him before the hallow'd groupe declare
They ſtood as monitors, of ſolemn weight,
To him, and all who might direct the ſtate,
At once a ſacred teſt, and awful guide,
By whom he wiſh'd his conduct to be tried.
O lovely Sculpture! what ſweet praiſe were thine,
If ſtrictly true to ſuch a fair deſign,
Preſiding power, in every realm on earth,
Call'd thee to miniſter to public worth,
To worth, of milder and of purer ray
Than Rome's rapacious demi-gods diſplay!
Though ſeated there in empire's ſtrongeſt blaze,
The ſhrewd Octavius aim'd at Ammon's praiſe,
His milder praiſe, (to ſhine in taſte ſupreme,
And heighten talents by protection's beam,)
Bleſs'd in what Ammon wanted, bards renown'd!
Sculpture more coy than Poeſy he found;
[105]Nor could the mandate of imperial ſway
Raiſe a Lyſippus out of Roman clay;
And Fortune's fav'rite in the naval ſcene,
Where ſunk the glory of the Aegyptian queen,
Though ſculptur'd emblems of that proſp'rous hour
Speak him the darling of deſpotic power,
Has ſtill the fate in feeble pomp to ſtand
The time-ſpar'd ſtatue of no potent hand;
Wrought as if Sculpture felt her powers confin'd
By native meanneſs in the monarch's mind*.
Yet many a wandering, ingenious Greek,
Sent, by his ſtars, his Roman bread to ſeek,
Nouriſh'd degenerate pride on foreign praiſe,
And bleſt the ſunſhine of Auguſtan days.
One, whoſe fine labour on the coſtly ſtone,
Greece, in her happieſt days, might proudly own—
Her Dioſcorides! by Patience taught,
Minute reſemblance on the gem he wrought,
[106]And form'd, with Miniature's conſummate grace,
Power's fav'rite ſignet, the imperial face*.
Nor ſhall his rival in the curious ſkill
Nice Diminution's lines with truth to fill,
The ſculptor Solon, want the Muſe's praiſe,
Since on his work the Nine may fondly gaze;
For his the portrait of prime note to them,
Their own Maecenas, their peculiar gem!
As Nature, joying in her boundleſs reign,
Adorns the tiny links of Beauty's leſſening chain,
Her rival Art, whom Emulation warms,
Loves to aſtoniſh by diminiſh'd forms,
And the conſummate character to bring
Within the compaſs of the coſtly ring.
Delightful talent of the patient hand,
Gaining o'er life ſuch delicate command!
The heroes of old time were proud to wear
The ſeal engraven with ingenious care;
[107]And wiſe Ulyſſes, if tradition's true,
No trifling pleaſure from his ſignet drew.
A dolphin's form the ſculptur'd ſtone expreſs'd,
Of gracious Providence a graceful teſt:
Sav'd from the deep, theſe wat'ry guardians bore
His filial pride, Telemachus, aſhore;
And the fond ſire diſplay'd, with grateful joy,
The juſt memorial of his reſcu'd boy.
To this fine branch of uſeful Art we owe
Treaſures that grandeur may be proud to ſhow;
Features of men who, on Fame's liſt enroll'd,
Gave life and luſtre to the world of old.
Oblivion's pall, a net of Mercy's ſhape,
Has ſeiz'd the large, and let the ſmall eſcape:
Worthies, whoſe ſtatues fail'd Time's flood to ſtem,
Yet live effulgent in the deathleſs gem.
But, O how few can merit ſuch a fate,
Where Nature ſinks by Power's deſpotic weight!
[108]When the proud player Auguſtus, worn with age,
Made a calm exit from his brilliant ſtage,
In that vaſt theatre what ſcenes enſu'd!
What beaſts of Tyranny's imperial brood!
Sculpture, in days of turpitude profuſe,
Of her ſunk-powers deplor'd the ſhameful uſe
When ſtatues roſe, to wound the public eye,
To the baſe ſycophant and murd'rous ſpy;
Nor mourn'd ſhe leſs diſtinction ill-conferr'd
On many a wretch of her Caeſarean herd:
Moſt on the baſe Caligula, who burn'd
With frantic folly that all limits ſpurn'd.
His life expreſs'd, in every wild deſign,
Delirious fancy, with a heart malign;
And moſt diſplay'd that fancy and that heart
In the fair province of inſulted Art.
Oft o'er her Grecian works griev'd Sculpture ſigh'd,
Made the maim'd vaſſals of his impious pride*!
[109]He dies; but ſtill the burthen'd earth muſt groan
For guilt gigantic on th' imperial throne;
And Sculpture's call'd, as waiting on the nod
Of Grandeur, wiſhing to be deem'd a god.
To her Greek votary ſhe denied the ſkill
Requir'd to execute vain Nero's will,
Who ſought all ſplendor that could ſtrike mankind
Save the pure ſplendor of the chaſten'd mind;
Who marr'd the ſtatues of Perfection's mould,
Thy bronze, Lyſippus, with debaſing gold.
The daring deſpot wiſh'd, with frantic aim,
To awe the world by his coloſſal frame:
Vainly he bade his molten image run
With metals to out-blaze the Rhodian ſun;
His toiling Greek, though fam'd for works of braſs,
Fail'd in his art to form the fluid maſs*.
But turn, indignant Muſe! thine eyes away
From the mad monſters of unbridled ſway,
[110]To mark with juſt applauſe the milder mind,
Whom boundleſs domination fail'd to blind;
Whoſe voice imperial bade the Arts appear
The friends of bounty, not the ſlaves of fear.
Frugal and gay, behold Veſpaſian's care
Honour and Virtue's ruin'd fanes repair!
To ſtatues, meant for Nero's golden dome,
Peace in her temple gives a purer home*.
Titus! the pride of Nature and her friend,
Could thy brief reign to happier length extend,
How might the warmth of thy benignant heart
Raiſe and inſpirit every graceful art!
Sculpture might well her fineſt toil employ
To fill thy boſom with parental joy.
Fancy e'en now exults to ſee thee gaze
On thy rich gem, beyond the diamond's blaze.
Where by Evodus wrought, in narrow ſpace
Shone thy fair Julia, full of filial grace:
[111]Beauty and ſweetneſs deck'd her maiden life,
But ah! no common ſhame awaits the wife:
And Heaven, mild Titus! made thy days ſo brief,
To ſpare thee torments of domeſtic grief*:
Thy brother's ſtatues, in thier fate, fulfill'd
The rabble's vengeance on a tyrant kill'd.
In radiant contraſt to that wretch, aſcend,
Trajan! the graceful Pliny's martial friend!
Juſtly 'tis thine to ſtand an honour'd name
On thy rich column of imperial fame!
Through thy vaſt empire, in which vice had ſpread
The worſt contagion ſpringing from its head,
Thy active ſpirit gloried to inſpire
A noble portion of new vital fire.
Though fond, too fond of war and warlike praiſe,
Pacific talents ſhar'd thy foſt'ring rays.
Not that thy hand proud Victory's flag unfurl'd,
And added Dacia to the Roman world,
[112]But for mild acts, that purer aims evince,
Shall memory prize thy name, excelling prince!
Thy ſofter merit, that commands my praiſe,
Was thy fond care with regal grace to raiſe
Statues to youthful virtue, in its prime
Unſeaſonably cruſh'd by envious Time:
Thy gift imperial to a noble chief
(The filial ſtatue) ſooth'd a father's grief
With the true temper of a ſovereign mind,
Tenderly juſt, magnificently kind*.
Thee, too, with ſovereigns not unjuſtly plac'd
For bright magnificence and liberal taſte,
Whoſe hand well-judging Fortune deign'd to uſe,
O'er Grecian ſcenes new luſtre to diffuſe;
Smiling to ſee, from Wealth's myſterious ſprings,
Her private favourite ſurpaſſing kings—
Thee, rich Herodes! Honour has enroll'd
For elegance of mind that match'd thy gold:
[113]Exhauſted quarries form thy graceful piles;
Thy Venus prais'd thee with victorious ſmiles*.
Lo, with new joy, peculiarly their own,
The Arts ſurrounding the Caeſarean throne!
See their prime patron that firm throne aſcend,
Talent's enlighten'd judge, and Sculpture's friend!
His ſpirit, active as the boundleſs air,
Pervades each province of imperial Care;
While ſated Conqueſt keeps his banner furl'd,
And peace and beauty re-adorn the world.
Accompliſh'd Adrian! doom'd to double fame,
Uniting brighteſt praiſe and darkeſt blame!
To noble heights the monarch's merit ran,
But injur'd Nature execrates the man.
Had he, with various bright endowments bleſt,
The higher ſway of that ſweet power confeſs'd,
How might fair Sculpture, in her triumphs chaſte,
Unbluſhing, glory in her ſovereign's taſte!
[114]Wielding himſelf her implements of ſkill,
He joy'd the cities of the earth to fill
With all the ſplendor that endears the day
Of cheriſh'd talents and pacific ſway;
Aiming, by lib'ral patronage, to crown
Athens, Art's fav'rite ſeat, with new renown!
In her conſummated Olympian fane
He taught ſublime magnificence to reign.
Where, in rich ſcenes, beneath unclouded ſkies,
He bids his own Italian villa riſe,
Th' imperial ſtructures with ſuch charms increaſe,
They form a fair epitome of Greece.
There all her temples, theatres, and towers,
Fabrics for ſtudious and for active hours,
All that made Attica the eye's delight,
In ſweet reflection re-inchant the ſight.
O Deſolation! thou haſt ne'er defac'd
More graceful precincts of imperial Taſte!
But, with a ravage by no charms controll'd
O'er the proud ſpot thy ruthleſs flood has roll'd:
[115]Still from thy vortex, by the tide of Time,
Its buried treaſures riſe, to deck ſome diſtant clime.
As o'er this faireſt ſcene of ſcenes auguſt
Whoſe pride has moulder'd into ſhapeleſs duſt,
My fancy mus'd, a viſion of the night
Brought it in recent ſplendor to my ſight.
Its ſhrines, its ſtatues, its Lyceum caught
My wond'ring eye, and fix'd my roving thought:
Beneath the ſhadow of a laurel bough,
With all the cares of empire on his brow,
I ſaw the maſter of the villa rove
In ſhades that ſeem'd the academic grove:
Sudden a form, array'd in ſofteſt light,
Benignly ſimple, temperately bright,
Yet more than mortal, in the quiet vale,
Appear'd the penſive emperor to hail.
Sculpture's inſignia, and her graceful mein,
Announc'd of finer Arts the modeſt queen.
Troubled, yet mild in geſture and in tone,
She made the troubles of her ſpirit known:
[116]"O thou," ſhe ſaid, "that in thy ſovereign plan
"Art often more, and often leſs than man!
"Whom, as my juſt, though ſtrange emotions riſe,
"I love, admire, and pity, and deſpiſe!
"While to vain heights thy blind ambition towers,
"Thou haſt ennobled and debas'd my powers
"As far as fame and infamy can ſtretch,
"To deck the world, and deify a wretch!
"I come th' Almighty Spirit to obey,
"For Arts are heralds of his purer day—
"I come, with viſions of portentous aim,
"To mortify thy frantic rage of fame!
"As a prophetic parent, taught to trace
"The future troubles of a fated race,
"'Tis mine to ſhew how ruin ſhall be hurl'd
"On the vain grandeur of thy Roman world.
"Mark how my viſionary ſcenes reveal
"The deſtin'd havoc that our works muſt feel!"
She ſpoke, and ſuddenly before her grew
The ſemblance of a city large and new,
[117]Where pomp imperial ſeem'd employ'd to place
Sculpture's prime labours on a laſting baſe.
There Samian Juno and Olympian Jove,
The rareſt treaſures of each holy grove,
The pride of ranſack'd Aſia, Greece, and Rome,
There, in new ſcenes, new dignity aſſume.
The ſtartled maſter of the Roman throne
Exclaim'd, in envy's quick, indignant tone,
"What mean theſe pageants that my eyes explore?
"They ſeem to ſparkle on Byzantium's ſhore!
The lovely raiſer of the viſion cried,
"Thou ſee'ſt a ſecond Rome in Roman pride!
"But turn, and ſee what miſeries await
"The pomp that wakes thy envy! Mark its fate!"
He turn'd: but O, what language can diſcloſe
The changing ſcene's accumulated woes?
Barbaric outrage, rapine, ſword, and fire
Convert it to a vaſt funereal pyre.
Supreme in height, coloſſal Phoebus burns,
The Phydian braſs to fluid lava turns;
[118]And lo, yet dearer to poetic eyes,
The living bronze of high-wrought Homer dies!
The ſculptur'd pride of every clime and age,
The guardian god, the hero, and the ſage,
All in promiſcuous devaſtation fall;
And Time, ſelf-ſtyl'd the conqueror of all—
Time, the proud offspring of Lyſippus' hand,
Adorn'd with emblems of his wide command—
Time periſhes himſelf! Aggriev'd, aghaſt,
The heart-ſtruck Hadrian exclaim'd at laſt,
"Shew me no more of diſtant lands the doom—
"I aſk the fate of my embelliſh'd Rome!"
"Look, and behold it!" the enchantreſs ſaid:
Byzantium diſappear'd, and in its ſtead
Rome's recent boaſt, with all its ſplendor crown'd,
The ſpeaking monarch's monumental mound.
In graceful pomp aroſe, and on its height,
That glitter'd to our view with orient light,
His image ſeem'd to guide a blazing car,
And ſhone triumphant like the morning ſtar.
[119]Sudden, at ſounds of diſcord and diſmay,
The imperial form in darkneſs melts away;
The Mauſoleum, of ſtupendous ſtate,
Turns to a fort; and at its guarded gate
Barbaric foes, in Roman plunder fierce,
Strain their rough powers the maſſive mound to pierce.
Romans defend the dome: but O what arms
Raſh Fury ſeizes in its blind alarms!
Marbles divine, of Praxitelian form,
Are ſnatch'd as weapons in the raging ſtorm;
And, in the tumult of defenſive wrath,
Are hurl'd in fragments at th' invading Goth.
On this dire fate of fav'rite ſtatues plac'd
To deck this hallow'd ſcene of royal taſte,
From wounded Pride a groan convulſive burſt,
And at the mournful ſound the viſions all diſpers'd*.
THE END OF THE FOURTH EPISTLE.

EPISTLE THE FIFTH.
[]EPISTLE V.

[]
Ora ducum, et vatum, fapientumque ora priorum
Quos tibi cura ſequi.—
STATIUS.
[]
ARGUMENT OF THE FIFTH EPISTLE.

The moral influence of Sculpture in the Pagan world.—Praiſe of eminent writers on ancient Art—Pliny—Pauſanias—Junius—L'Abbé Guaſco— Winckelmann—M. de Caylus.

EXCELLING Artiſt! whoſe exalted mind
Feels for the higheſt welfare of mankind,
And values genius, rightly underſtood,
But as it miniſters to moral good!
Yet, ere I cloſe this tributary lay,
This homage to thy art that love would pay,
Let us with free and fond reſearch explore
Her Ethic energies in days of yore;
Mark how ſhe roſe of poliſh'd Arts the firſt,
What joys ſhe waken'd, and what virtues nurs'd,
[124]When on her growing beauties Glory ſmil'd,
When Time careſs'd her as his perfect child;
And, in the ſplendor of acknowledg'd worth,
She reign'd the darling of the Pagan earth!
Sculpture! thy influence to heights ſublime
Inflam'd th' heroic zeal of elder time;
That zeal which ſteer'd, with every ſail unfurl'd,
Th' advent'rous ſpirit of the ancient world:
The martial chief, enamour'd of thy charms,
Felt and ador'd thee in his field of arms;
Conſcious thy care would make his merit known,
He died, exulting, to revive in ſtone.
Let thoſe who doubt if thou could'ſt e'er inſpire
Ambition's boſom with ſo ſtrong a fire,
Mark Caeſar, ere his own exploits begun,
Sigh at the ſculptur'd form of Ammon's ſon*.
If, in thy ruder days, thy potent aid
To dark Idolatry the world betray'd,
[125]That faſcinating power, with thee combin'd,
Felt, as thy beauty grew, her ſavage ſoul refin'd.
Hence, where thy hand, with love of Nature warm,
Wrought mild divinities of graceful form,
Calmly that ſcene misfortune's victim trod,
Safe in the dome of thy protecting god.
Such awful reverence that aſylum bred,
Where ſacred Sculpture ſcreen'd Affliction's head,
Weakneſs might there revengeful power defy,
While Mercy bleſs'd thee as her dear ally*:
Yet in one ſcene, whence thy ſoft charms might chaſe
All barbarous fury from the Pagan race,
E'en at the time when, to their zenith rais'd,
The Arts and Genius in perfection blaz'd,
One ruthleſs wretch, (and be his deed accurs'd!)
Raging for blood, thy ſanctuary burſt.
See, on Calauria's ſhore, to Neptune's ſhrine
Flies the fam'd Greek, of eloquence divine;
[126]He, whoſe ſtrong ſenſe, adorn'd with Freedom's charms,
Made Philip tremble for his ſilver arms,
Ere that inſidious king, falſe friend of peace,
Sapp'd, by corruption, the high ſoul of Greece:
Her fame-crown'd orator, his triumph paſt,
Driv'n by Adverſity's o'erwhelming blaſt,
In Neptune's temple deems he yet may meet
An heavenly guardian and a calm retreat.
Deluſive hope! for e'en thoſe ſacred ſhades
The blood-hound of Antipater invades.
Yet freedom's champion, in his mental force,
Still finds the ſuffering Pagan's brave reſource,
By friendly poiſon well prepar'd, to foil
The mercenary villain's murd'rous toil.
Shock'd to behold the wretch of blood profane
The hallow'd precincts of a peaceful fane,
He views this outrage with indignant eyes,
And at the baſe of Neptune's ſtatue dies;
Bleſt to reſign his glory-giving breath
In the mild arms of voluntary death!

[]

Figure 1. The DEATHE OF DEMOSTHENES.
He views this Outrage with indignant Eyes,
And at the Base of Neptunes Statue dies.
Epistle 5 Verse [...]1.
Publish [...]d June 1 [...] 1 [...] by [...]
[127]If Sculpture fail'd, in her unequal ſtrife
With baſe Barbarity, to ſhield his life,
Fondly ſhe made immortal as his name
The ſtern attractions of his manly frame.
Wrought with her kindeſt care, his image roſe
In endleſs triumph o'er his abject foes;
And Athens gloried with delight to gaze,
Age after age in her declining days,
On him, her fav'rite ſon, whoſe fiery breath,
Diſpelling dread of danger and of death,
Made, by the thunder of his warning voice,
The path of honour be his country's choice.
True to his word, as quicken'd by a ſpell,
She march'd in that precarious path, and fell;
Yet in her fall the nobleſt tribute paid
To that bright mind, by whoſe bold counſel ſway'd,
She gain'd, uncheck'd by imminent diſtreſs,
Virtue's prime purpoſe, to deſerve ſucceſs*.
[128]
Juſtly, O Sculpture! would thy fondeſt ſkill
The wiſh for glory of that friend fulfil,
Whoſe fervid ſoul, with bright ambition fraught,
By matchleſs Eloquence ſublimely taught
The land, that gloried in his birth, to claim
Pre-eminence in all the paths of fame.
His heart, for ever in a patriot glow,
Exulted, in its civic zeal, to ſhow
How from thy honour'd hand his native ſtate
Receiv'd a gift magnificently great:
From him we learn that the Boſphoric ſhore
Of ſignal Art this bright memorial bore.
Athens, a female of coloſſal height,
In ſculptur'd beauty charm'd the public ſight:
Of equal ſtature, and benignly grand,
Two ſocial cities ſtood on either hand—
Byzantium and Perinthus, each diſplay'd
A ſiſter's heart by grateful pleaſure ſway'd;
As each was ſeen a friendly arm to bend,
Fondly to crown their tutelary friend.
[129]Such honours, Athens, were aſſign'd to thee,
Aid of the weak, and guardian of the free!
While thy Demoſthenes could rule the tide
Of civic fortune and of public pride.
Beneath his auſpices ſo Sculpture roſe,
The ſweet remembrancer of baffled foes,
Call'd by confederated ſtates to ſhew
From lib'ral union what fair bleſſings flow;
The brilliant leſſon her bold work diſplay'd,
And Gratitude and Glory bleſs'd her aid*.
Nor was it thine, enchanting Art! alone
With public virtue to inſpirit ſtone,
Diffuſing, by the praiſe thy forms expreſs'd,
Heroic ardour through a people's breaſt:
'Twas thine, for loftier minds above the croud,
With gifts of rare pre-eminence endow'd,
To counteract the ills that baſe mankind
To envied Genius have too oft aſſign'd.
[130]When Thebes (induc'd her Pindar to condemn
By abject anger and malignant phlegm)
Fin'd her free bard for daring to rehearſe
The praiſe of Athens in his lib'ral verſe,
Kind Sculpture then, his Attic friend, aroſe,
And well aveng'd him of ungen'rous foes.
Pleas'd her juſt tribute to the bard to give,
She taught his figure, like his verſe, to live:
Athens, of finer Arts the bounteous queen,
Diſplay'd his ſtatue in her public ſcene.
Seated in regal ſtate, the crown, the lyre,
Announc'd the ſov'reign of the lyric quire:
Greece, who, with all a mother's tranſport, found
Envy's baſe cry in Honour's plaudit drown'd,
Smil'd on the ſplendid palm the poet won,
And fondly hail'd her glory-giving ſon,
Whoſe Muſe rich nectar to the mind conveys,
Poignant and ſweet!—Morality and Praiſe*!
[131]Fair and benignant as his fervid Muſe,
Sculpture, like her, a radiant path purſues;
Pleas'd to enlarge the province of renown,
And add new luſtre to th' Olympic crown.
To him, whom Piſa's public voice proclaims
As thrice a victor in her hallow'd games,
The ſtatue, rais'd beneath the guard of Jove,
Shines a bright inmate of the ſacred grove.
Thou faſcinating ſcene of Arts combin'd,
Where foſt'ring Glory rear'd the Grecian mind!
Oft, as to thee the glance of Memory turns,
The ſpirit kindles, and the boſom burns.
Enchanting Altis! whoſe domain to fill
Elaborate Sculpture laviſh'd all her ſkill!
Pure was the pleaſure thou wert form'd to raiſe,
Where emulation grew by honour's blaze.
While triumph fluſh'd the happy victor's cheek,
Each heart exulted in the name of Greek:
Inteſtine feuds by Glory taught to ceaſe,
One ſoul inſpir'd the mingled ſtates of Greece;
[132]And public virtue felt her ardour riſe
From the ſweet impulſe of fraternal ties.
Olympia! hadſt thou well that ſpirit nurs'd
Which made thee long of ſplendid ſcenes the firſt;
Had it been thine to cheriſh and impart
Vigour of form, and dignity of heart,
Pure and unmix'd, like true heroic worth,
With all the abject vice of meaner earth,
No barb'rous foes had made thy triumph ceaſe,
No ſavage Roman had disfigur'd Greece;
Nor Ammon ſaid, (deriding, when he found
Thy ſculptur'd victors in Miletus crown'd,)
"Where were theſe bodies of gigantic powers,
"When the barbarian force o'erthrew your towers*?
But games of honour, in effect benign,
With morals flouriſh, and with them decline.
Through hallow'd walls, where Excellence is nurs'd,
Intruding Envy rarely fails to burſt—
[133]Envy, whoſe touch corrodes, as ruſt on ſteel,
Both private happineſs and public weal.
Envy was early an Olympian peſt;
Thy mangled image may this truth atteſt,
Thiagenes! enrich'd with rare renown
For many a conteſt, and each varied crown;
Some abject rival, with reſentment baſe,
In ſecret dar'd thy ſtatue to deface:
The ſculptur'd form, as conſcious of the blow,
Fell with avenging weight, and cruſh'd thy foe.
Of Envy's ſordid race, ſo periſh'd one,
Her ſingle, nameleſs, deſpicable ſon*.
But Envy, apt for ever to increaſe,
Prov'd moſt prolific in the realms of Greece;
Hence her free ſtates, by jealous jars deſtroy'd,
Left in the poliſh'd world a mournful void.
Corporeal ſtrength, and intellectual power,
Shone, lovely Greece! ſupremely as thy dower:
[134]But cordial union, the beſt fruit of ſenſe,
The life, the ſoul of national defence—
Spirit, that leads the weak to foil the ſtrong,
When every boſom burns for public wrong—
This ſpirit, thy vain ſons no more the ſame,
Fail'd to preſerve, as they advanc'd in fame:
Her ſnares around them thus Oppreſſion threw,
Taught by their feuds to ſep'rate and ſubdue.
If Greece herſelf her real ſtrength had known,
Greece might have foil'd the hoſtile world alone;
In war's wild tempeſt an unſhaken tower,
Peerleſs in arts, and paramount in power.
Too late to ſave, yet potent to ſuſpend
The ſtorm of ruin, haſtening to deſcend,
Sicyon! thy free, conciliating chief,
Thy firm Aratus, planning wiſe relief,
Reclaim'd the bickering Greeks by union's charm,
Bade jarring ſtates with ſocial proweſs arm;
And, ere ſhe ſunk Oppreſſion's helpleſs thrall,
Of Greece protracted and adorn'd the fall.
[135]Juſt to his merit, Sculpture's grateful hand
With grace heroic gave his form to ſtand:
In lib'ral Corinth ſhe the ſtatue rear'd,
And as a guardian power this patriot chief rever'd*.
If e'er Greek Art, with Glory for her guide,
The high-ſoul'd portrait form'd with fonder pride,
Perchance 'twas when, a ſtudious ſcene to grace,
Her ſkill, employ'd on Plato's penſive face,
Labour'd to memorize from age to age
The ſpeaking features of that fav'rite ſage,
Who toil'd to fix, in honour of mankind,
Sublime ideas in the public mind.
Enlighten'd Pagan! whoſe bright works diſplay
A cheering dawn before the Chriſtian day!
Where the calm grove of Academus grew
Thy ſculptur'd form a ſignal luſtre threw;
Rais'd by a foreign prince, whoſe lib'ral heart
To Grecian intellect and Grecian art
[136]Paid this pure tribute, proud in thee to own
The friend who taught him virtue's nobleſt tone*.
Ye ſages who, aloof from martial ſtrife,
Purſu'd the purer charms of penſive life!
How oft has Sculpture joy'd, with moral aim,
To multiply your forms, and ſpread your name!
By Aeſop's ſtatue, Greece this leſſon gave,
Fame's path is open even to a ſlave;
And Socrates, ordain'd in bronze to ſtand
The honour'd labour of Lyſippus' hand,
Inform'd the world, although an injur'd ſage
Had periſh'd in a ſtorm of envious rage,
Repentant Athens, ſighing o'er his duſt,
Rever'd his glory as a public truſt.
How oft, before the goſpel's riſing ray
Darted through earthly clouds celeſtial day,
In ſcenes where Meditation lov'd to dwell,
The public portico or private cell,
[137]Has many a penſive, philoſophic buſt,
Repreſs'd the giddy, or confirm'd the juſt,
And kept frail Virtue on her mental throne
By the mild leſſon of the ſpeaking ſtone!
Nor breath'd Inſtruction in her marble ſcene
Confin'd to ſtronger Man's expreſſive mein:
The female ſtatue gloried to inſpire
Maternal dignity and patriot fire.
The rigid Cato, with a cenſor's frown,
Strove from the ſphere of ſculptural renown
Auſterely to exclude the worthier frame,
And rail'd at ſtatues rais'd in woman's name*,
Still the ſtern Romans, though they ne'er poſſeſs'd
That zeal for art which fill'd the Grecian breaſt,
Gaz'd, with a generous admiration warm,
On female virtue in its ſculptur'd form:
Witneſs th' equeſtrian image that aroſe
To tell how Clelia, foiling potent foes
[138]By patriot ſpirit, in Rome's early days
E'en from a hoſtile king extorted praiſe*
Witneſs maturer form, of matron grace,
Worthy, in Honour's fane, the pureſt place.
Thou Roman ſtatue! whoſe plain title ſhone
With luſtre to enrich the meaneſt ſtone,
"Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi!"—Time!
Could'ſt thou, from every art-ennobled clime
Where buried Sculpture undiſcover'd lies,
Bid, for my choice, her latent treaſures riſe,
Cornelia would I chooſe, if happy Art
Show'd, in her reſcu'd form, a mother's heart;
Work wrought by Nature, on Perfection's plan,
To claim the boundleſs gratitude of man;
The fineſt work to which his thoughts can climb—
Conſummate beauty and the true ſublime!
Sculpture! ſweet power, whoſe moral care expreſs'd
The deareſt feelings of the human breaſt!
[139]In early days, before the martial throng
Of Grecian heroes, arm'd for Helen's wrong!
'Twas thine to ſhew, in Beauty's ſhape enſhrin'd,
The prime perfection of the female mind.
When young Ulyſſes won, in gallant ſtrife,
The child of fond Icarius for his wife,
The good old man deſir'd the graceful pair
To live content in his paternal care;
Loth to reſign the darling of his ſight,
A peerleſs daughter, and his heart's delight:
Heroic duties bade the prudent chief
Decline the favour, to the father's grief,
Who, juſtly feeling what forbade their ſtay
Led his lov'd children on their diſtant way.
'Tis time to part—but the too tender ſire
Summons, in vain, his courage to retire:
Nature ſubdues him, and the lovely bride
Clings, in mute anguiſh, to her father's ſide.
The noble Ithacus, of manly ſoul,
Viewing, with pity, Nature's ſtrong control,
[140]Says, "Sweet Penelope! thy ſteps are free
"To guide thy father, or to follow me."
The ſire, with Queſtion's agitated air,
Looks up for the deciſion of the fair:
She could not ſpeak, but, ſtill to Nature true,
O'er her fluſh'd cheek her decent veil ſhe drew.
The huſband and the ſire, who heard her ſigh,
Both underſtood her exquiſite reply;
And the proud father felt his pangs beguil'd
By the ſweet graces of his modeſt child.
He bleſs'd and bade her go: but on the ſpot,
Often reviſited, and ne'er forgot.
His fondneſs rais'd, with a regret ſerene,
A fair memorial of that tender ſcene—
A graceful ſtatue of a female frame,
Sacred to love, and Modeſty its name;
In which kind Sculpture, by her ſpeaking power,
Expreſs'd the feelings of that parting hour*.
[141]
Enchanting Art! ſuch ever be thy tone
As graceful Nature may be proud to own!
No forms of elegance Fame ranks above
Thy groups of filial and parental love:
Witneſs ye brothers of Sicilian name,
Who paſs'd through Aetna's deſolating flame,
Each, nobly loaded with a parent's weight,
Spar'd by receding fire, rever'd by Fate!
The braſs has periſh'd, whoſe expreſſive charm
Diſplay'd your virtues in the dread alarm;
Yet in a Roman poet's faithful lines
The periſh'd braſs with new exiſtence ſhines—
In Claudian's verſe I ſee your boſoms thrill,
And with a graceful terror tremble ſtill*!
O lovely Sculpture! when, to thee unjuſt,
Ravage condemns thy offspring to the duſt,
Though form'd with power and merit to endure
Through many a peaceful age of praiſe ſecure,
[142]May Muſes, conſcious of thy gen'rous aim,
Still of thy ruin'd works the worth proclaim;
And to a new and firmer life reſtore
Thy moulder'd marble, or thy vaniſh'd ore!
Sculpture! to Heav'n-taught Poeſy allied
By dignity of ſoul and decent pride,
By talents true to Glory's guiding fires,
That ſcorn to miniſter to mean deſires!
Dear Arts! to whom in high degrees belong
Siſterly charms, by ſweet alliance ſtrong!
May I aſpire, of each devoutly fond,
Of that alliance to confirm the bond,
While both I honour in my ſtudious hour,
As Friendſhip dictates the preſiding power,
Who, when I incenſe on your altars throw,
Guides my juſt hand, and gives my heart to glow!
Ingenuous Sculpture! in thy long career
Of various fortune in thy Pagan ſphere,
Thou art intitled to the nobleſt praiſe,
For adding force to worth's reflected rays!
[143]'Twas thine to give, in that dark world of ſtrife,
Ardour to virtue, elegance to life!
If Fortune, to thy pureſt purpoſe blind,
Laviſh'd thy honours on the worthleſs mind,
Indignant Freedom, in ſome diſtant day,
Would riſe to vindicate thy moral ſway.
When her Timoleon with a guardian ſword
To injur'd Sicily her rights reſtor'd,
Statues were tried, and all of public note
Or fell or flouriſh'd by the people's vote.
Alas! how few in regal rank are found
Endear'd to Nature, as by Merit crown'd!
That poliſh'd iſle her Gelon deem'd alone
Worthy to live in monumental ſtone*.
There is no art to man by Heaven convey'd
Which man's raſh folly dares not to degrade;
And thou canſt reckon, in thy numerous race,
Sculptors whom ſkill ſerv'd only to diſgrace:
[144]Pygmalion, burning with a vain deſire,
The dupe of Vanity's delirious fire*!
The baſe Perillus, Cruelty's high-prieſt,
Condemn'd to bellow in his brazen beaſt;
And a coarſe artiſt from the Roman ſchool,
Of vile obſcenity the venal tool!
But ſhould aſſembled Arts their ſons produce,
And all be tried for Talent's moral uſe,
Perchance, the foremoſt tribe in Honour's crowd,
The ſons of Sculpture might be juſtly proud
That, mark'd collectively in Fame's review,
Their merit's infinite, their faults are few.
O that, redeem'd from dark Oblivion's ſpoils,
That rich memorial of their nobleſt toils
Which juſt Paſiteles, of gen'rous heart,
Fram'd on the higher works of happieſt Art,
Might to our diſtant eyes, with luſtre new,
Of ancient genius give a wider view.
[145]Vain wiſh, in Lethe's gulf, by Taſte abhorr'd,
The literary ſculptor's kind record
Of works his judgment knew ſo well to prize,
Untimely ſunk, and never more to riſe.
But here let gratitude your merit ſpeak,
Thou learned Roman, and thou faithful Greek!
Who 'mid the wrecks of time conſpicuous ſtand,
Still holding light with a benignant hand,
To guide thoſe fond advent'rers on their way
Who would the waſted ſcenes of ancient art ſurvey.
Pliny! whoſe active, comprehenſive mind
The richeſt map of Nature's realms deſign'd,
Well haſt thou mingled in thy mighty plan
Sketches of arts that ſoften ſavage man!
Thy ſtudies on thy country's rugged breaſt
Enlighten'd paſſion for thoſe arts impreſs'd.
Though modern arrogance, with envious aim,
Has toil'd to undermine thy ſolid fame,
Nature and Truth may yet, in thee, commend
Their lively eulogiſt, their liberal friend;
[146]And Taſte with grateful joy thy page explore
For rich Antiquity's recover'd ſtore.
There her loſt wonders ſeem again to live,
There freſh delight to Fancy's eye they give;
Like phantoms, rais'd in magic's ample bower,
With all the ſplendor of departed power*.
To one, leſs apt with warm applauſe to ſpeak,
Minutely faithful, though a rambling Greek,
To thee, Pauſanias! let me juſtly raiſe
A column, deck'd with plenitude of praiſe
Proportion'd to ineſtimable aid,
And copious light with modeſt care diſplay'd!
Taſte, by thy guidance, ſtill has power to rove
Through ancient Sculpture's conſecrated grove.
Delightful traveller through Talent's clime!
'Twas not thy lot to view its graceful prime:
Yet, nobly careful of its glories paſt,
'Twas thy brave aim to make its glories laſt;
[147]And Time ſhall honour, as his years increaſe,
Thy Panorama of enchanting Greece*.
And you, ye moderns! whoſe fond toils diſplay
Art's ancient powers in Learning's bright array—
You, whoſe enlighten'd minds aſſiſt my lays,
Friends of my verſe! accept its friendly praiſe!
Sage Palatine! whoſe ſoul of temp'rate fire
No toils could daunt, and no reſearches tire:
Accompliſh'd Junius! who, in Britain's iſle,
Wer't pleas'd to baſk in bright Protection's ſmile;
And noble Arundel's regard to ſhare
With thoſe fine Arts that boaſt his lib'ral care.
With Erudition's ample aid, 'twas thine
To form a portrait of antique deſign,
Bright as the image of elaborate ſkill,
Where blended ſtones the fine moſaic fill;
Where richeſt marbles all their tints unite,
And varied ſplendor faſcinates the ſight.
[148]In thy vaſt work rare proof of patient toil,
That glean'd from every age its ſpotleſs ſpoil,
There breathes a warm benignity of ſoul,
And moral beauty decorates the whole*.
Of kindred ſpirit, in a later age,
See gentle Guaſco, in a friendly page,
To touch a brother's heart with tender joy,
On Sculpture's powers his penſive mind employ!
As April drops ſoon thicken to a ſhower,
The ſprightly comment of a vacant hour
Grew a rich work, where truth and taſte have ſhown
How life deriv'd from Art a nobler tone;
Where lovely Sculpture ſhines benignly bright
In mild Philoſophy's endearing light.
Alas! while Fame expects the volume penn'd
By high-ſoul'd Monteſquieu's attractive friend,
Calamity, that ſtrikes Ambition mute,
Obſtructs the writer in his dear purſuit!
[149]His injur'd eyes in cruel quiet cloſe,
And ſink from glorious toil to dark repoſe*.
While Art deplor'd her ſuffering friend's retreat,
Griev'd to reſign an eulogiſt ſo ſweet,
Her loſs ſee Learning haſten to repay
With richer floods of intellectual day!
She, potent guide of each aſpiring mind
That aims to pleaſe and benefit mankind—
She, in a petty cell of German duſt,
Taught youthful Genius in her aid to truſt;
Break his juſt way through Poverty's baſe bar,
And vault victorious into Glory's car.
Yes, fervid Winkelman! this praiſe is thine,
Thou bold enthuſiaſt of a heart benign!
Nature exults to mark thy happier courſe,
And the fair triumph of thy mental force;
Though Fortune blended thy rare lot to fill,
As for the Grecian bard, extremes of good and ill.
[150]But though thy life became a ruffian's prey,
Nobly ſecur'd from peril and decay
Thy well-earn'd fame ſhall Time's reſpect command,
Thy merits live, engrav'd by friendſhip's hand;
And grateful Art, where'er her powers may riſe,
That fond hiſtorian of her charms ſhall prize
Who, with enlighten'd love, deſcrib'd the whole,
Each changeful feature, and her inmoſt ſoul*.
If Art exults in his aſpiring flight
Who as her champion roſe, in penury's deſpite,
While gratitude her graceful boſom ſways,
She owns a debt of no inferior praiſe
Due to her different friend, of Gallic name,
Who, high in rank, in fortune, and in fame,
To her dear ſervice his rich purſe aſſign'd,
With all the radiance of his richer mind,
Shining through clouds that thicken'd to o'erwhelm
His lov'd Antiquity's embelliſh'd realm;
[151]Whoſe treaſures, bright'ning at his touch, commend
The piercing genius of their ſtudious friend:
Thou, to whom idle nobles are a foil!
Thou model of munificence and toil!
Accompliſh'd Caylus! if thy zeal ſublime
Laviſh'd on Art thy treaſure and thy time,
Thine idol, blameleſs as the peaceful dove,
Paid thee with pleaſure equal to thy love.
She ſooth'd thee in thy gaſp of parting breath,
And charm'd thy ſpirit through the ſhades of death*.
Mild, lib'ral ſpirit! take (to thee not new!)
Tribute from Engliſh truth to merit due!
For once a Briton, who enjoy'd, with wealth,
Conceal'd munificence to charm by ſtealth,
Surpris'd thee with a ſplendid gift, deſign'd
A nameleſs homage to thy letter'd mind,
To both an honour!—O, inſtructive Time,
Ripen the nations to that ſenſe ſublime,
[152]To own the folly of contention's rage,
That makes the globe a gladiator's ſtage;
Till blood-ſtain'd rivals boaſt no other ſtrife
But which may beſt befriend art, ſcience, truth, and life*.
THE END OF THE FIFTH EPISTLE.

EPISTLE THE SIXTH.
[]EPISTLE VI.

[]
—Tu quoque magnam
Partem opere in tanto, ſineret dolor, Icare, haberes.
VIRGIL.
[]
ARGUMENT OF THE SIXTH EPISTLE.

The Author laments with his friend the fate of his diſciple, a promiſing young Sculptor, forced to quit his profeſſion by a ſevere loſs of health.— A character of that diſciple, and the intereſt he ſtill takes in the proſperity and honour of his beloved Maſter, conclude the Poem.

ARTS were an early gift of heavenly grace,
To chear and ſtrengthen man's afflicted race;
And now, dear Flaxman! in thy art I find
A lenient med'cine for a tortur'd mind:
Elſe, in this ſeaſon of paternal grief,
When, from dark ſickneſs that eludes relief,
Thy dear diſciple's pangs my ſpirit pierce,
Could I reſume this long-ſuſpended verſe!
Years have elaps'd, and years that have impreſs'd
Deepeſt affliction on my wounded breaſt,
[156]Since, at the ſight of malady unknown
That prey'd on health far dearer than my own,
The lyre, whoſe chords ſhould with thy glory ſwell,
From my fond hand, by ſorrow palſied, fell;
And all my faculties of heart and ſoul
Had but one aim—to make the ſickly whole.
But Heaven ſtill tries the never-failing truth
Of patient virtue in this ſuff'ring youth.
Sunk as he is, and doom'd in pain to gaſp,
(A young Prometheus in a vulture's claſp!)
His purer ſpirit does not Heaven arraign,
Or breathe a murmur on his galling chain:
But on the maſter, to his heart endear'd,
Whoſe powers he idoliz'd, whoſe worth rever'd,
His generous thoughts with juſt attachment turn,
And for thy honour boaſt a brave concern.
Fondly he bids his father's falt'ring hand
Reſume th' unfiniſh'd work by Friendſhip plann'd.
Forgive the filial love that deems thy friend,
Weak as he is, may yet thy fame extend!
[157]The wiſh of filial excellence diſtreſs'd
To me is ſacred as a God's beheſt:
Hence I with fond precipitancy frame
The verſe devoted to thy honour'd name.
Pardon, if trouble can but ill achieve
What joy ſhould execute, with leiſure's leave!
Here, if theſe ſketches of thy art ſucceed,
Her ancient reign the fair and young may read;
Her modern empire, and her future power,
May form my ſubject in a happier hour,
If happier hours may to that heart be given
Which leans, with unexhauſted hope, on Heaven.
Whatever lot, excelling friend! is mine,
I bend, with gratitude, to power divine
That thou, whoſe progreſs in thy noble aim
I deem a portion of my country's fame—
That thou enjoy'ſt the ſpirit's genuine wealth,
Unfetter'd genius, and unfading health!
The bards of Greece have twin'd thy laurel crown,
And form'd the prelude of thy rich renown:
[158]Homer and Aeſchylus thy mind inſpire
With all their varied grace, and vivid fire:
Deck'd by thy pencil, they with joy aſſign
To thee the ſocial palm of pure deſign;
And Britain, while her naval triumphs blaze
Above the boaſt of Graecia's brighteſt days,
Looks to thy talent with a parent's pride,
Pleas'd to thy ſkill her glory to confide,
Fit to record, with monumental art,
The ſimple grandeur of her ſeaman's heart*.
O, while with joy to Honour's nobleſt height
I view, in fancy, thy Daedalean flight!
Thy little Icarus I yet muſt mourn,
Soon, from thy ſide, by cruel ſickneſs torn,
(Not raſhly drown'd in fond Ambition's ſea,)
Still breathing, ſtill in heart attach'd to thee!
I know he ſtill, though diſtant from thy care,
Lives in thy love, and proſpers in thy prayer;
[159]For I beheld in thy parental eyes
The tear of tender admiration riſe,
When noble labours of his crippled hand,
Achiev'd by courage, by affection plann'd,
Drew from thy judgment that ſweet praiſe ſincere
Which even Agony has ſmil'd to hear*.
That crippled hand, ſo ſkill'd, in early youth,
To ſeize the graceful line of ſimple Truth,
More by increaſing malady oppreſs'd,
Sinks, in its fetters, to reluctant reſt;
And thy dark veil, Futurity! enſhrouds
Its diſtant fortune in no common clouds.
Magnanimous and grateful to the laſt,
The ſuff'rer bleſſes Heaven for bounties paſt:
Pleas'd under Flaxman to have ſtudied Art,
(Child of thy choice, and pupil of thy heart!)
His ſpirit truſts that, where thy talents reign,
His virtuous wiſh may yet be known, though vain;
[160]His wiſh to riſe, by filial duty's flame,
Friend of thy life, and partner of thy fame!
Yes, ſhould thy genius, like Auguſtan power,
Spread o'er the earth, proſperity its dower,
Thy heart, my tender friend! however high
Thy juſt renown, will often, with a ſigh,
Fondly regret thy art's intended heir,
(The young Marcellus of thy foſt'ring care!)
Whoſe mild endurance of a ſtorm ſo great
May charm the roughneſs of relenting fate.
That youth of faireſt promiſe, fair as May,
Penſively tender, and benignly gay,
On thy medallion ſtill retains a form,
In health exulting, and with pleaſure warm.
Teach thou my hand, with mutual love, to trace
His mind, as perfect as thy lines his face!
For Nature in that mind was pleas'd to pour
Of intellectual charms no trivial ſtore;
Fancy's high ſpirit, talent's feeling nerve,
With tender modeſty, with mild reſerve,
[161]And thoſe prime virtues of ingenuous youth,
Alert benevolence, and dauntleſs truth;
Zeal, ever eager to make merit known,
And only tardy to announce its own;
Silent ambition, but, though ſilent, quick,
Yet ſoftly ſhaded with a veil as thick
As the dark glaſſes tinted to deſcry
The ſun, ſo ſoften'd not to wound the eye;
Temper by nature and by habit clear
From haſty choler, and from ſullen fear,
Spleen and dejection could not touch the mind
That drew from ſolitude a joy refin'd,
To nurſe inventive fire, in ſilence caught,
And brood ſucceſsful o'er ſequeſter'd thought.
Such was the youth, who, in the flatt'ring hour
Of Health's fair promiſe and unſhaken power,
The favour'd pupil of thy friendly choice,
Drew art, and joy, and honour from thy voice;
[162]Whoſe guidance, then his healthy day's delight,
Still forms the viſion of his ſickly night.
Could I, dear Flaxman! with thy ſkill expreſs
Virtue's firm energy in long diſtreſs,
And all his merit, 'gainſt affliction proof,
Since ſickneſs forc'd him from thy guardian roof;
Thou might'ſt ſuppoſe I had before thee brought
A Chriſtian martyr, by Ghiberti wrought:
So Pain has cruſh'd his frame with dire control,
And ſo the ſeraph Patience arm'd his ſoul.
But not for notes like theſe my lyre was ſtrung;
It promis'd joyous hymns, to happy Genius ſung;
And Truth and Nature will my heart confeſs,
Form'd to exult in ſuch a friend's ſucceſs.
Yet will that friend, whoſe glory I eſteem
My cordial pleaſure and my fav'rite theme,
Forgive paternal pain, that wildly flings
An agitated hand acroſs the ſtrings,

[]

THOMAS HAYLEY. the Disciple of John Flaxman. from a Medallion. [...]

[163]
A ſhade of ſorrow o'er his triumph throws,
And ſighing, bids th' imperfect paean cloſe*.
THE END OF THE POEM.

Appendix A NOTES.

[]

Appendix A.1 NOTES ON THE FIRST EPISTLE.

[]

Appendix A.1.1 NOTE I. Ver. 87. WARM'D by the light they love, the very fragments ſound.

An alluſion to the frequently-cited verſe of Juvenal: ‘Dimidio magicae reſonant ubi Memnone chordae.’

There is hardly any work of antiquity more celebrated than this myſterious image; a favourite object of ancient and of modern curioſity! Conſidering the attention paid to it in different ages, it is ſingular that the mutilated ſtatue ſhould ſtill retain a name which, according to an ancient tradition, was aſſigned to it improperly.

This miraculous coloſſal figure is commonly called the Statue of Memnon, and ſuppoſed to repreſent an Aethiopian prince of that name, the ſon of Tithonus and Aurora: but Pauſanias, from whom we derive one of the early accounts of it, expreſsly ſays, the inhabitants of the city where it was placed (the Thebans of Aegypt) aſſerted that it was [168] not a repreſentation of Memnon*, but of Phamenophis, a native of their country; "and I have heard perſons affirm," continues Pauſanias, ‘that it is the ſtatue of Seſoſtris which Cambyſes broke aſunder; and now as much of it as extends from the head to the middle of the body is thrown down: the remainder is ſtill ſitting, and ſounds every day at the riſing of the ſun. Its ſound is moſt like the burſting of a ſtring on the harp or lyre.’

The intelligent and accurate Strabo has recorded his own viſit (in a more early age) to this ſtatue, in company with his friend Aelius Gallus, and a military train. He declares that he heard the miraculous ſound, but intimates a doubt whether it really proceeded from the baſe, from the fragment of the figure, or from the artifice of perſons who formed a buſy circle round it. Strabo does not aſſign any name to the ſtatue in queſtion; but calls the ſcene where it was placed the Memnonium. "Here," he ſays, ‘are two coloſſal figures, each of a ſingle ſtone, and near to each other. One is preſerved; the upper part of the other has fallen, and, as they ſay, by an earthquake.’

The ſagacious geographer expreſſes, in very ſtrong terms, his unwillingneſs to believe that the ſurpriſing ſound he heard could be the ſpontaneous production of the ſtone itſelf.

A reſpectable traveller of our own country, the learned, faithful, and elaborate Pococke, has laboured to gratify curioſity concerning this [169] this celebrated image, by a very minute deſcription, illuſtrated by engravings: yet with every advantage that erudition and a ſurvey of the fragment could afford him, he is obliged to leave the ſubject ſtill involved in conſiderable darkneſs; for among the various ſtatues that he examined in this intereſting ſcene, (the ruins of Thebes,) he found that two of them had pretenſions to be regarded as the miraculous image*; and of theſe he has given the following circumſtantial account:

In the ſecond court (of the temple) are remains of two ſtatues of black granite. That to the weſt, which is ſitting, meaſured, from the hand to the elbow, five feet; thence to the ſhoulder four. The head is three feet and a half long, and the ear is one foot in length. The ſtatue to the eaſt is three feet five inches long in the foot. At a diſtance from it is the head with the cap. It is three feet ſix inches long, and behind it is the ornament of the dome-leaf. Some perſons have thought that one of theſe is the ſtatue of Memnon. From the temple I went to the ſtatues, which I ſhall call the coloſſal ſtatues of Memnon. They are towards Medinet-Habou. I ſpent above half a day at theſe ſtatues. They are of a very particular ſort of porous, hard granite, ſuch as I never ſaw before. It moſt reſembles the eagle-ſtone.

The ſtatues look to the ſouth-ſouth-eaſt, and are on a pedeſtal or plinth, entirely plain. That to the north is thirty feet long and [170] ſeventeen broad. The pedeſtal of the other is thirty-three feet long and nineteen wide, and they are about thirty feet apart. That to the ſouth is of one ſtone. The ſtatue to the north has been broken off at the middle, above the arms, that lie on the hams, and it has been built up with five tiers of ſtones—one to the top of the clinch of the elbow, another almoſt half way up the arm, one to the arm-pits, the fourth to the neck, and the fifth, the head and neck of one ſtone. The other tiers have two ſtones in front, except that the middle tier has three; and there are two ſtones in the thickneſs of the ſtatue. The feet are broken a quarter off from the toes: but as I did not take a particular draught of the parts of the ſtatue that are maimed, I thought it better to give it entire from the drawing and obſervations I did make. I found the height, from the bottom of the foot to the top of the knee, to be about nineteen feet; from the bottom of the foot to the ankle, two feet ſix inches; to the top of the inſtep, four feet; the foot is five feet broad, and the leg is four feet deep. The ornament behind the head ſeemed to be the dome-leaf, as I have it on a ſtatue of Harpocrates. At the ſide of the legs are two reliefs, and one between the legs, of the natural height, but much defaced. Between the former and the great ſtatue are hieroglyphics. The pedeſtal of the imperfect ſtatue is cracked acroſs, at the diſtance of about ten feet from the back part. There are alſo ſome flaws and cracks in the other ſtatue; but it is of one ſtone, which I dare poſitively affirm, and in which I could not be miſtaken, having been twice at the ſtatues. I ſpent half a day there, and took down in my notes an account of every ſtone of which the upper part of the other is built. On the pedeſtal of the imperfect ſtatue is a Greek epigram; and on the inſteps and legs, for about eight feet high, are ſeveral inſcriptions in Greek and Latin; ſome being epigrams in honour of Memnon; others, the greater part, teſtimonies of thoſe who heard [171] the ſound; and ſome alſo in unknown characters. All the inſcriptions are ill cut, and in bad language, both on account of the hardneſs of the ſtone, and the ignorance of the people, who probably made money by cutting theſe inſcriptions for thoſe that came to hear the ſound. I copied them with all the exactneſs I could; though many of them were very difficult to be underſtood, and I was not entirely undiſturbed while I was doing it.

Thus far I have tranſcribed the induſtrious and accurate Pococke, becauſe his menſuration affords a ſatisfactory idea of Aegyptian ſculpture. I omit his diſcuſſion of the arguments concerning the point, which of the two ſtatues he has mentioned is the real Memnon, becauſe ſome ideas ſuggeſted by a later and more lively traveller of France have led me to believe that the report of Pauſanias was perfectly true, and that the marvellous ſtatue was never intended to repreſent the prince of Aethiopia. How it acquired the name of Memnon we ſhall gradually diſcover.

M. Savary, in his elegant, amuſing Letters on Aegypt, has compared ſuch reliques of Thebes as he could inveſtigate himſelf, with the deſcriptions of this magnificent ſcenery that are to be found in ancient authors, particularly Diodorus Siculus and Strabo, by whoſe aſſiſtance he endeavours to throw new light on this miraculous image. He falls, however, into an evident miſtake, in ſaying that Strabo calls it the Statue of Memnon. That illuſtrious and accurate geographer only ſays, after naming a place, which he calls [...], a word that may ſignify the Temple, or perhaps merely the monuments of Memnon, that it contained two coloſſal ſtatues, which he proceeds to deſcribe in the manner I have already mentioned. But the ingenious French traveller, borrowing, perhaps, a hint from Strabo*, though he does not intimate [172] that he did, has ventured to beſtow on the broken Coloſſus, commonly called the ſtatue of Memnon, the name of Oſymanduas; as he conceives that the dimenſions of the figure, and the ſcene around it, ſufficiently anſwer to the magnificent deſcription by which Diodorus has commemorated the tomb of that Aegyptian monarch, whoſe title Pococke beſtows on another coloſſal figure. M. Savary goes ſtill farther in his probable conjecture, and imagines that Cambyſes was tempted to break the ſtupendous image by the inſcription which it bore, according to the narrative of the Greek hiſtorian; which inſcription the French traveller tranſlates in the following words: ‘Je ſuis Oſimanduè, roi des rois. Si l'on veut ſavoir combien je ſuis grand, et où je repoſe, que l'on detruiſe quelqu'un de ces ouvrages*.’‘I am Oſymanduas, the king of kings. If any one wiſhes to know how great I am, and where I repoſe, let him conquer ſome of my works.’ The word [...] (literally, "let him conquer,") is rendered by the Engliſh traveller, "let him ſurpaſs;" by the French traveller, ‘let him deſtroy. The latter, in his interpretation of this ſuperb inſcription, ſeems to reduce it to a level with the pleaſant, myſterious epitaph in Gil Bias: "A qui eſta encerrada el alma del licenciado Pedro Garcias;" and to ſuppoſe that it was deſigned to lead ſome ingenious interpreter to the happy diſcovery of a latent treaſure. Though I preſume to rally the accompliſhed traveller of France for his ſubtle conſtruction, I am ſtill particularly inclined to credit the conjecture of M. Savary concerning the proper title of this celebrated coloſſal figure, becauſe it tends to confirm another conjecture by which I would account for the manner in which it acquired the very different name of Memnon. Diodorus Siculus, in deſcribing the tomb of Oſymanduas, and the coloſſal ſtatues with which it was adorned, declares that theſe ſtatues were the work of [173] Memnon Sycnites. This ſculptor muſt have been an artiſt of the higheſt celebrity in his time; hence perhaps his moſt remarkable ſtatue aſſumed the name of its maker, in preference to that of the monarch whom it was deſigned to repreſent; and hence, as the name of this marvellous ſculptor happened to be alſo the name by which an heroic prince of Aethiopia was diſtinguiſhed, who is ſuppoſed to have founded the city of Abydus in Aegypt, many fabulous ſtories ſeem to have been invented to account for what in all probability never exiſted; I mean, a ſculptural repreſentation of the Aethiopian hero (the ally of Priam, and the unſucceſsful antagoniſt of Achilles) among the coloſſal ſtatues of Thebes.

Having expatiated ſo far on the name of this intereſting image, I will add but a few remarks on its miraculous ſound. Strabo and Savary ſeem to have agreed in the idea, that the wonder was rather to be ſlighted as the myſterious device of prieſtcraft, than to be regarded as a genuine miracle of Nature. Yet the eminent philoſophical poet of Derbyſhire, who has introduced this faſcinating ſtatue into his delightful Botanic Garden, appears, in a note to that poem, to think that philoſophy might very honeſtly contrive to produce a ſimilar effect.

It may be well worth the attention, both of artiſts and philoſophers, to conſider how far it may be poſſible and proper to engage the ſenſe of hearing as an aſſiſtant to enhance the pleaſure of ſight, when that pleaſure ariſes from any grand work of Art. Antiquity has proved that the picture of a battle may be exhibited to advantage with an accompaniment of martial muſic; and perhaps in a great naval monument, it would be eaſy to introduce, and conceal ſuch works of muſical mechaniſm as might occaſionally increaſe, in a moſt powerful degree, the delight ariſing from ſuch a ſpectacle.

I cannot quit the ſtatue of Memnon without mentioning the moſt illuſtrious of his ancient viſitors. Theſe were the emperor Hadrian with [174] his empreſs Sabina, and a prince perhaps not leſs accompliſhed, and certainly more amiable than Hadrian, that deſerving idol of the Roman people, Germanicus! The hiſtorian Tacitus, who has recorded the viſit of the latter to this attractive ſtatue, ſays not a ſyllable expreſſive of his own opinion concerning the miraculous ſound*. I confeſs myſelf inclined to imagine that the marvel originated in the avaricious ingenuity of thoſe who were engaged in ſhewing this celebrated ſpectacle: but a different opinion was entertained by a modern writer on ſtatues, whoſe authority is ſo reſpectable, that I ſhall ſubmit to the reader his more candid ideas on this intereſting image. The Abbé Comte de Guaſco, whoſe learned and elegant hiſtorical eſſay, "De l'Uſage des Statues," I ſhall have very frequent occaſion to cite and to applaud, ſpeaks of this figure in his chapter on the prodigies and miracles attributed to ſtatues. He deſcribes it as a ſtatue raiſed to Memnon by Amenophis the Second, on the banks of the Nile; and after noticing the incredulity of Strabo, he ſays in a note, which I ſhall tranſcribe, that modern travellers had aſſured him they had been witneſſes of the phenomenon, which, in his opinion, may be fairly and naturally explained by atmoſpherical influence.

Appendix A.1.2 NOTE II. Ver. 127. Miltonic temper to thy fervent ſoul.

[175]

An alluſion to the following Sonnet, which the author had the pleaſure of addreſſing to his friend ſeveral years ago, before he viſited Italy— a brief but early preſage of his preſent excellence!

Flaxman! young artiſt of an ardent mind!
Whoſe juſt ambition, by the Greeks inſpir'd,
Thirſts for pure Attic glory, though inclin'd
To doubt if partial Nature e'er aſſign'd
To modern ſouls, howe'er ſublimely fir'd,
Genius like that, whoſe energy refin'd,
Diſdaining lucre, and by toil untir'd,
Led the keen Greek to what his heart deſir'd!
Accept and read, with honeſt Engliſh pride,
A bard, whom Greece might view with envious eyes!
Let Milton's Muſe your daring chiſſel guide!
And, if your ſculpture like his ſong can riſe,
England, who glories in his fame, in you
Shall boaſt a Phidias to her Homer true.

In recollecting how warmly I formerly recommended the perſonages of Milton to the attention of my friend the ſculptor, I am naturally led to ſpeak of the ſtriking colours in which thoſe perſonages have recently appeared on the canvaſs of Mr. Fuſeli. The Miltonic Gallery is a noble monument of induſtry and genius. I ſeize with pleaſure an opportunity of declaring my ſentiments of its merit, becauſe thoſe ſentiments are confirmed by the more valuable judgment of the friend to whom this publication is addreſſed.

Appendix A.1.3 NOTE III. Ver. 227. And conſecrated life to toil intenſe.

[176]

Milton, deſcribing, moſt ingenuouſly, the dawn of literary ambition in his own youthful mind, has the following expreſſions:

After mentioning the favour he experienced from his learned acquaintance of Italy, he ſays,

I began thus far to aſſent both to them, and divers of my friends here at home, and not leſs to an inward prompting which now grew daily upon me, that by labour and intent ſtudy, (which I take to be my portion in this life,) joined with the ſtrong propenſity of Nature, I might perhaps leave ſomething ſo written to after-times as they ſhould not willingly let it die. Proſe Works, quarto edit. vol. i. p. 62.

Appendix A.1.4 NOTE IV. Ver. 238. All that I've done is due to patient thought.

The writer of Newton's Life, in the Biographia Britannica, has very juſtly remarked, that modeſty was one of the many admirable qualities which ſo eminently diſtinguiſhed this ſublime philoſopher. Two ſtriking examples of it are recorded; the firſt, drawn from a converſation in which Newton, with the ſimplicity of a mind truly great, ſpoke what he thought himſelf of his own mental exertions: the ſecond, from a paſſage in one of his letters, containing almoſt the very words of the verſe which gave riſe to this note.

Appendix A.1.5 NOTE V. Ver. 246. For low and little cares of languid life.

[177]

The two celebrated and amiable phyſicians, Zimmerman and Tiſſot, whoſe writings deſerve the title affixed to the famous library of Aegypt, "Medicine for the Mind," afford moſt valuable advice and conſolation to thoſe votaries of art or ſcience who may have been forced by ſickneſs or ſorrow to ſuſpend their favourite purſuits. Few literary invalids can fail to feel themſelves ſoothed, and encouraged to ſtruggle with calamity, by the touching deſcription which Zimmerman has given to the world of his own ſufferings, and thoſe of his learned and accompliſhed friends, Garve and Mendelſohn, in his beneficent Eſſay on Solitude. Some readers, indeed, are ſo faſtidious as to think that infirmity and affliction ſhould on no occaſion obtrude their private grievances (paſt or preſent) on the eye of the public: but every writer who records, with the eloquence of real ſenſibility, calamities that he has encountered with any degree of ſucceſs, is certainly a friend to ſuffering humanity; as his record may furniſh preſent or future fellow-ſufferers with a freſh incentive to fortitude or exertion; and the general ſympathy of Nature will probably make him ample amends for any accidental cenſure that he may happen to incur from unfeeling individuals.

Appendix A.1.6 NOTE VI. Ver. 280. With thee, inſtructive guide! to ſtudy Rome.

The author had pleaſed himſelf with a proſpect of enjoying the ſociety, and taking a ſhare in the ſtudies of his friend, during the [178] laſt of the ſeveral years that the ſculptor devoted to Italy: but he relinquiſhed this favourite deſign at the earneſt entreaty of ſome other friends, who requeſted him to remain in England for the purpoſe of writing a Life of Milton. He ſacrificed to their requeſt a project that ſeemed to promiſe him infinite advantage and delight. Time and chance conferred on him an unexpected and ineſtimable recompence for that ſacrifice, in the friendſhip of Mr. Cowper, which his attachment to Milton proved the means of his acquiring.

Appendix A.1.7 NOTE VII. Ver. 324. On whom that coyeſt queen her ſmile beſtows.

The paragraph which cloſes with this line is founded on a paſſage of ſingular beauty in one of Milton's Latin letters to his friend Diodati:

Unde fit, ut qui ſpretis, quae vulgus pravâ rerum aeſtimatione opinatur, id ſentire et loqui et eſſe audet, quod ſumma per omne aevum ſapientia optimum eſſe docuit, illi me protinus, ſicuti reperiam, neceſſitate quâdam adjungam. Quod ſi ego, ſive naturâ, ſive meo fato ita ſum comparatus, ut nullâ contentione, et laboribus meis ad tale decus et faſtigium laudis ipſe valeam emergere, tamen quo minus qui eam gloriam aſſecuti ſunt, aut eo feliciter aſpirant, illos ſemper colam et ſuſpiciam, nec dii puto, nec homines prohibuerint.

Hence, wherever I find a man deſpiſing the falſe eſtimates of the vulgar, and daring to aſpire, in ſentiment, language, and conduct, to what the higheſt wiſdom, through every age, has taught us as moſt excellent, to him I unite myſelf by a ſort of neceſſary attachment; and if I am ſo influenced by nature or deſtiny that by no exertion or labours of my own I may exalt myſelf to this ſummit of worth and [179] honour, yet no powers of Heaven or earth will hinder me from looking with reverence and affection upon thoſe who have thoroughly attained this glory, or appear engaged in the ſucceſsful purſuit of it.

END OF THE NOTES ON THE FIRST EPISTLE.

Appendix A.2 NOTES ON THE SECOND EPISTLE.

[]

Appendix A.2.1 NOTE I. Ver. 42. THE fav'rite idol of benighted zeal.

An ingenious foreigner, who has added extenſive learning to a lively imagination, and who publiſhed, in our country, a work of conſiderable magnitude on the origin and progreſs of the Arts, indulges a conjecture that the head of the Urus, or ſavage bull, was the earlieſt work of ſculpture. This idea ſtruck him ſo forcibly, that he has endeavoured to diſplay and confirm a conjecture, not very probable, in the two following paſſages of his elaborate and amuſing reſearches:

Ces obſervations nous decouvrent la marche de la ſculpture, et celle de la théologie des anciens. Cette théologie admettant d'abord un Etre Suprême, qu'elle regarda comme la pere inviſible de toutes choſes, le repréſenta par l'emblême du boeuf ſauvage. Le terme Tho, ou Théo, exprimant cet animal produiſit le mot Théos, d'où vint celui [182] de Deus, qui ſignifia Dieu; parceque ſon emblême fût primitivement repréſenté ſous la forme de l'individu dont ce mot étoit le nom. La ſculpture en imitant la figure de cet animal, rendit l'idée de la théologie. Cette idée préſcrivit l'objet qui fit peut-être decouvrir cet art ingenieux, ou du moins qui encouragea ces premiers eſſais.—Recherches ſur l'Origine, l'Eſprit, et les Progres des Arts, tom i. p. 145.

The author ſays, in the ſame volume, where he labours to ſtrengthen his conjecture by the authority of very early medals,

Ces médailles, frappées dans l'orient par un peuple Scythe, nous repréſentent la figure du boeuf à tête humaine, telle qu'on l'avoit dans un pais très voiſin de celui dont elle vint, et chez les deſcendans d'un peuple qui le premier employa cette emblême. Il paſſa delà dans la Grece, dans la Sicile, et dans l'Italie, ou on le voit ſi frequemment repréſenté ſur les médailles de Gela, d'Agrigente, de Naples, et de tant d'autres villes, repandues dans toutes les parties de la Grece. S'il eſt vrai, comme je le crois, que cette figure fût le principe de celles des autres dieux, repréſentés ſous la forme humaine, elle doit être regardée comme le germe et le premier pasde la ſculpture.—P. 177.

Appendix A.2.2 NOTE II. Ver. 48. The new attraction of a modell'd face.

Two reſpectable writers of antiquity, the philoſopher Athenagoras, and the naturaliſt Pliny, agree in deriving the art of modelling from the celebrated though anonymous Maid of Corinth, whoſe father Dibutades, a potter, was ſo pleaſed with the ingenuity of his daughter, in drawing the ſhade of her ſleeping lover, by lamp-light, on a wall, that he is ſaid to have filled her outline with clay, and, hardening it with [183] the reſt of his earthen-ware, to have thus produced a buſt, or a medallion, (for it might be either,) which was preſerved at Corinth as a curious rudiment of art, till that city was deſtroyed by Mummius, according to a tradition mentioned by Pliny*. The Athenian philoſopher, who lived a conſiderable time after the deſtruction, and after the revival of Corinth, ſpeaks of this intereſting production of early art as being ſtill preſerved when he wrote, in the reign of Marcus Aurelius.

The anecdote of the Corinthian Maid is ſo pleaſing to the imagination, that we cannot be ſurprized at its being readily received as genuine hiſtory. M. de Caylus makes a very juſt remark upon it, in his excellent Memoir on the Sculpture of the Ancients: ‘Cette idée eſt melée de vrai-ſemblance dans le détail, et d'agrément dans l'invention: mais quand on voudroit douter de ces prétendus faits, il eſt encore plus commode de les adopter: on ne pourroit mettre à la place que d'autres ſuppoſitions.—Mem. de l' Academie, tom. xxv. p. 305.

Appendix A.2.3 NOTE III. Ver. 56. Till impious worſhip grew from tender grief.

For a father, afflicted with untimely mourning, when he hath made an image of his child ſoon taken away, now honoured him as [184] a god which was then a dead man, and delivered to thoſe that were under him ceremonies and ſacrifices.

Thus, in proceſs of time, an ungodly cuſtom grown ſtrong, was kept as a law, and graven images were worſhipped by the commandments of kings.

The Wiſdom of Solomon, ch. xiv. v. 15.

Herodotus has recorded the very ſingular honours that were paid to a deceaſed daughter by the afflicted Mycerinus, an Aegyptian monarch.

From the energy of thoſe inventive paſſions, love and grief, we might be induced to ſuppoſe that the earlieſt efforts of rude ſculpture would be ſuch as they ſuggeſted for the purpoſe of obtaining a reſemblance, however imperfect, of ſome mortal infinitely beloved or regretted: but hiſtory proves that ſuperſtitious fear is a paſſion ſtill more creative; and in Greece, which may be conſidered as the home, though not the native climate of Sculpture, it is evident that endeavours to repreſent different divinities by the rudeſt ſymbols preceded every attempt to expreſs human features by any kind of model. Stocks and ſtones were confeſſedly worſhipped as celeſtial powers, in that land of ingenuity, before any thing like a ſtatue, buſt, or medallion appeared. The trunk of an old tree was ſolemnly preſerved by the Theſpians, and idolized as their Juno*. But ſtones, of a cubic form, were their more general ſymbols; and Pauſanias mentions a collection of theſe at Pharae in Achaia, in number about thirty, and each diſtinguiſhed by the name of a particular divinity. They ſtood near a ſtatue of Mercury, and were probably regarded, in the age of Pauſanias, as curious reliques of that ancient mode of worſhip which, according to his account, had been prevalent among all the Greeks.

[185]At Orchomenos, the favourite ſeat of the Graces, ſo happily celebrated by Pindar, thoſe intereſting divinities were originally repreſented by three white ſtones. When a rude ſymbol was exchanged, in proceſs of time, for a more refined image, the Greeks were ſolicitous to preſerve ſome idea of the original type; a practice well illuſtrated by D'Hancarville, in his remark on theſe memorable ſymbols that firſt repreſented the Graces. He imagines that the union of the ſymbols gave riſe to the attitude which theſe patroneſſes of Grecian art aſſumed in their ſubſequent form:

L'union des trois pierres blanches, qui indiquoient les Graces à Orchomene, fut conſervée lorſque la ſculpture convertit ces pierres en ſtatues, le point par où elles ſe touchoient devint la main par laquelle chacune d'elles ſe repoſa ſur les bras de l'autre, tandis que de celle qu'elles avoient libre, elles tinrent les attributs qui les diſtinguoient. Cette attitude charmante continua d'indiquer l'avantage qu'elles ſe pretent l'une à l'autre, l'harmonie qui les rend inſeparables, et le plaiſir qu'elles procurent par leur union. Telles on les voit ſur les médailles, ſur beaucoup de pierres gravées, dans un petit groupe qui appartient à la maiſon de Borghèſe, mais particulierement dans les antiquites d'Herculaneum. David, tom. iii. pl. 21. D'HANCARVILLE, Antiq. Etruſ. tom. iv. p. 6.

The firſt Minerva adored at Athens is ſaid to have been nothing more than a rough pointed ſtake*. In contemplating the great contraſt between ſuch objects of popular veneration and the works of Phidias and Praxiteles, the mind takes a generous delight in the progreſſive powers of human ingenuity. The pleaſure we naturally feel in ſuch a contraſt has induced many writers to inveſtigate, with great labour, the obſcure origin of different arts. M. D'Hancarville, in the ingenious diſſertations [186] prefixed to his Etruſcan Antiquities, has endeavoured to trace the riſe and early progreſs of ſculpture through many centuries of darkneſs prior to the age of Daedalus; a period with which the active enthuſiaſm of Winkelman had ſeemed to ſatisfy itſelf, in his elaborate and animated Hiſtory of Ancient Art.

If the conjectures of a writer may be truſted, who ventures to delineate a period ſo very diſtant and dark, the origin of Grecian ſculpture may be aſſigned to the reign of Apis, the ſucceſſor of Phoroneus, about 1778 years before the Chriſtian aera*; and according to a very reaſonable ſuppoſition of M. D'Hancarville, this delightful and difficult art was more than a thouſand years in proceeding, by inſenſible degrees, from a ſtate of rude barbarity to its period of exquiſite perfection. Of its moſt remarkable ſteps, and of many memorable artiſts who particularly contributed to its advancement, I ſhall ſpeak in ſubſequent notes. I return to the immediate ſubject of this,—the diſpoſition to fond idolatry in an afflicted parent. Two ſtriking, though very different characters of the ancient world are remarkable examples of this diſpoſition— Nimrod and Cicero. The ſtrong feelings of nature, on the loſs of a beloved child, produced the ſame wildneſs of affectionate fancy in the imperial hunter and in the republican philoſopher. Thoſe who recollect the infinite tenderneſs with which the great Roman orator ſpeaks, in his Letters, of his darling Tullia, will forgive and pity the unhappy father, whoſe exceſs of affliction led him ſo far to forget his own philoſophical principles as to think very ſeriouſly of building, not a tomb, but a temple, to his departed child, as a proper object of worſhip. The Abbé Mongault has clearly aſcertained this intention of Cicero, in his intereſting remarks on the Fanum Tulliae, in the Memoirs of the French Academy.

Appendix A.2.4 NOTE IV. Ver. 68. Thy fam'd Prometheus, thy primaeval pride.

[187]

Of all the celebrated perſonages of antiquity, there is not one who ſeems to have had a harder fate, in every point of view, than this extraordinary character. He has peculiar claims to a place in this Work, from having been long regarded as the very firſt of Pagan artiſts, and indeed, the firſt of philoſophers*. The poets have repreſented him as ſuffering the ſevereſt of tortures for ingenuity and benevolence. His acute and energetic ſpirit, nobly painted by Aeſchylus, rendered him a favourite hero of the Athenian, and afterwards of the Roman ſtage, as we may conjecture from the fragments of Accius. At Athens he had an altar inſcribed to him in the Academy; and a feſtival was held in his honour, diſtinguiſhed by a race, in which the candidates for the prize carried a flame as they ran, and he only was conſidered as the victor who brought it alive to the goal. Pauſanias, who mentions this tribute to the memory of Prometheus, relates alſo that the inhabitants of Phocis preſerved, with great veneration, ſome reliques of the very clay from which this firſt of modellers was ſaid to have faſhioned man. Yet ſome of the Pagan philoſophers did not ſcruple to deny the mortal exiſtence of Prometheus, and to reduce him to a mere ſymbol of man's inventive faculty. Some early Chriſtian writers treat him with ſtill [188] more ſeverity. The reſpectable Lactantius, in particular, allows him his exiſtence and his ingenuity, but deſcribes him as employing his rare powers to the baſeſt of purpoſes, to promote the prepoſterous ambition of his relation Jupiter; and as contriving, by his ſculptural art, to convert the tyrant into a god*.

Of an intereſting character, ſo long the ſport and victim of fancy, fable, and conjecture, it is natural to deſire, but very difficult to obtain, a ſimple, rational hiſtory. Who ſhall ſolve the doubt whether Prometheus really exiſted or not? He has been called a Cretan, an Aegyptian, a Scythian; and Olaus Rudbecke, in that marvellous work of extenſive erudition and fanciful ingenuity, his Atlantica, ſeems inclined to make him a Swede, and claim him for a countryman with the reſt of the Titans. Of our own modern writers, Lord Bacon and Mr. Bryant (two reſpectable names) agree with the emperor Julian in their inclination to melt this primaeval artiſt into a mere allegory. I confeſs myſelf rather inclined to the opinion of the learned and intelligent Brucker, who, in his elaborate and candid Hiſtory of Philoſophy, has very modeſtly ſtated ſuch conjectures of his own, concerning this celebrated perſonage, as account, in a very probable manner, for all his fabulous adventures. This author imagines that Prometheus was a ſervant, high in the confidence of Oſiris, an Aegyptian monarch, who venturing, without the permiſſion of his ſovereign, to communicate the arts of Aegypt to the ruder Greeks, was impriſoned for that offence, and tormented, till the Aegyptian officer who guarded him was ſlain by Hercules, [189] and the priſoner ſet free*. But whether Prometheus had a real, or only an imaginary exiſtence, it is clear that the artiſts as well as the poets of antiquity were employed in giving celebrity to his intereſting character.

We learn from Achilles Tatius, and from Seneca, that the two painters, Evanthes and Parrhaſius, executed remarkable pictures of his adventures; and we have reaſon to believe, from the two following epigrams of the Anthologia, that the Grecian ſculptors alſo repreſented his tortures with admirable energy.

[...].
[...]
[...].
[...]
[...].
[190]Grotii Verſio.
Artibus auxilium per me data flamma; ſed arte
Spector ego et flammis, heu ſine fine miſer.
O hominum ingratum ſemper genus! hanc ne Prometheus
A fabris poſt tot fert bene facta vicem?
Julian, on the Statue of Prometheus.
With flame I furniſh'd Art; yet Art and Flame
Have fix'd in ceaſeleſs pangs my ſuffering frame.
How thankleſs men! ſince they, with Sculpture's aid,
Gifts from Prometheus have ſo ill repaid.
[...].
[...],
[...].
[...]
[...].
[...]
[...].
Grotii Verſio.
Aes vocat indomitum facundi carmen Homeri,
Quem falſi plaſtes arguit hoc opere.
Cerne Prometheos gemitus, tormentaque tracti
Aeris, et ex imo viſcere triſte malum!
Alcide ſuccurre! tuae poſt tela pharetrae
Japetionidae ſtat ſine fine dolor.
[191]The ſame Writer, on the ſame Statue.
Homer call'd braſs impaſſive, in his ſong:
This ſculptor's power has prov'd the poet wrong.
See rack'd Prometheus! ſee this braſs ſuſtain,
Through life's inteſtine ſeat, convulſive pain!
Vengeance, Alcides! though thy ſhaft has flown,
Thy friend in laſting pangs is doom'd to groan.

Before I diſmiſs Prometheus, let me obſerve, that if we believe him to have exiſted, we may ſtill acquit him of the offence that Lactantius imputes to him. He was certainly not the firſt mortal who induced his fellow-creatures to worſhip an idol of the human ſhape. Cedrenus aſſerts that Serug and Terah, the progenitors of Abraham, were both makers of images; and adds, that Abraham burnt the idols of Terah his father*. Thoſe who have endeavoured to aſcertain the age of Prometheus place him in a later period, and make him a cotemporary of Moſes. The worſhip of idols, as the preſident Goguet juſtly remarks, in his learned and ſenſible book on the Origin of Laws and Arts, may be traced to very high antiquity: ‘Les teraphim que Rachel deroba à ſon pere Laban étoient, ſuivant l'avis des meilleurs interprêtes, de petites idoles qui avoient la figure humaine.’

GOGUET, tom. i. p. 355.

Appendix A.2.5 NOTE V. Ver. 86. Aim'd at eternal ſway in animated braſs.

[192]

The following works of public magnificence are aſcribed to Semiramis:

She built likewiſe two palaces at each end of the bridge upon the bank of the river (Euphrates). That on the weſt had an high and ſtately wall, made of a round circumference, upon which were pourtrayed in the bricks, before they were burnt, all ſorts of living creatures, as if it were to the life, laid with great art, in curious colours. This wall was in circuit forty furlongs, three hundred bricks thick, and in height (as Cteſias ſays) a hundred yards, upon which were turrets a hundred and forty yards high. The third and moſt inward wall immediately ſurrounded the palace thirty furlongs in compaſs, and far ſurmounted the middle wall both in height and thickneſs; and on this wall and the towers were repreſented the ſhapes of all ſorts of living creatures, artificially expreſſed in moſt lively colours. Eſpecially was repreſented a general hunting of all ſorts of wild beaſts, each four cubits high and upwards. Amongſt theſe was to be ſeen Semiramis on horſeback, ſtriking a leopard through with a dart; and next to her, her huſband Ninus in cloſe fight with a lion, piercing him with his lance. This palace far excelled that on the other ſide of the river, both in greatneſs and adornments; for the outmoſt wall of that (made of well-burnt brick) was but thirty furlongs in compaſs. Inſtead of the curious portraiture of beaſts, there were the brazen ſtatues of Ninus and Semiramis, the great officers, and of Jupiter, whom the Babylonians call Belus, and likewiſe armies drawn up in battalia; and divers ſorts of hunting were there repreſented, to [193] the great diverſion and pleaſure of the beholders. In the middle of the city ſhe built a temple to Jupiter, whom the Babylonians call Belus. Upon the top ſhe placed three ſtatues, of beaten gold, of Jupiter, Juno, and Rhea. That of Jupiter ſtood upright, in the poſture as if he were walking. He was forty feet in height, and weighed a thouſand Babyloniſh talents. The ſtatue of Rhea was of the ſame weight, ſitting on a golden throne, having two lions ſtanding on either ſide, one at her knees, and near to them two exceeding great ſerpents of ſilver, weighing thirty talents apiece. Here likewiſe the image of Juno ſtood upright, and weighed eight hundred talents, graſping a ſerpent by the head in her right hand, and holding a ſceptre, adorned with precious ſtones, in her left.
DIODORUS SICULUS, tranſlated by BOOTH, b. ii. ch. 1.

Such are the wonders of early art which Diodorus has recorded as the works of Semiramis, on the authority of Cteſias, a native of Cnidos, who became the favourite phyſician of a Perſian monarch, Artaxerxes Mnemon, and in that ſituation had better opportunities of acquiring hiſtorical information concerning the antiquities of Aſia, than his countrymen in general poſſeſſed. Of Cteſias's extenſive writings only a few fragments remain, which are printed as a ſupplement to Herodotus, in the beſt editions of that hiſtorian. The credit of Cteſias has been ſeverely attacked, both by ancient and modern writers; but M. Freret vindicates his veracity in ſeveral particulars, like a very able advocate, in more than one of his elaborate diſſertations on points of ancient hiſtory, inſerted in the Memoirs of the French Academy. The kind of credit that we may rationally give to the curious deſcription that I have cited, ſeems to be very candidly aſcertained by the Abbé Guaſco, who thinks that although works of ſuch magnificence were hardly executed at a period ſo early as that aſſigned to Semiramis, yet it is probable that ſuch actually appeared in Babylon in later ages, but before art had made [194] any conſiderable progreſs in Greece or in Aegypt. ‘Quelque exagerée qu'on a raiſon de croire la deſcription que fait Cteſias des monumens de l'art ſtatuaire qui ornoient les palais et le temple, pretendus bâtis par l'ancienne Semiramis, quelqu' anachroniſme que l'on ſuppoſe à juſte titre, dans les époques données par cet auteur fabuleux à ces monumens: il n'en reſulte pas moins que cet art avoit déjà fait de grands progrès en Aſie durant les anciennes monarchies de Ninive, et de Babylone; car aucun art ne produit de grands monumens tout-à-coup, et ce n'eſt que ſucceſſivement qu'il atteint certains degrès de perfection. Donc quoique les ſtatues de Belus, de Semiramis, de Ninus, avec tout le brillant cortege et appareil, qui les accompagnoient, ne fuſſent pas des productions d'une époque ſi reculée, mais des monumens poſterieurs, executés ſous quelqu'un de leurs ſucceſſeurs du même nom, qui voulut immortaliſer par là les fondateurs de leurs monarchies, il n'eſt pas moins conſtant, que ces monumens ſurpaſſoient en elegance et peut-être en antiquité, les premiers que l'on connoiſſe dans la Greee, et peut-être même ceux d'Aegypte: ils ſont tout au moins des indicés que l'on s'étoit déjà exercé depuis longtems dans ces ſortes d'ouvrages.’

The ſame reſpectable author obſerves that Joſephus and Herodotus attribute, with more reaſon, theſe embelliſhments of Babylon to Nebuchodonoſor, and Nitocris his wife; and that their account is confirmed by what the prophet Daniel has ſaid concerning the ſtatues of gold and ſilver which adorned the temples of that city. He adds, that Aſſyria had more than one Semiramis: ‘Parceque ce nom n'étant qu'une expreſſion generique compoſée de pluſieurs titres de dignité ſelon le genre et la tournure ordinaire de la langue orientale, il fût commun à pluſieurs reines d'Aſſyrie.—De l'Uſage des Statues, p. 87.

Several ſtatues of Semiramis are commemorated by antient authors. Lucian ſpeaks of one ſtanding by the temple of the Syrian goddeſs, and [195] pointing to the manſion of the divinity, as if to acknowledge her own paſt offence in having arrogated to herſelf the honours due only to Juno. Valerius Maximus has deſcribed another, not leſs remarkable, in which the Aſſyrian queen was repreſented with her treſſes in a ſtate of diſorder, and thus ſignifying the rapidity with which ſhe is ſaid to have hurried from her toilet to ſuppreſs a revolt in Babylon*. Let me add, on the authority of Aelian, that Semiramis was as much celebrated for her beauty, as for her talents and power.

Appendix A.2.6 NOTE VI. Ver. 94. And hold Semiramis herſelf a dream.

The boldeſt enemy to the mortal exiſtence of this celebrated queen is the illuſtrious mythologiſt Mr. Bryant, who confidently ſays, in the ſecond volume of his great work, ‘I have ſhewn that there was no ſuch perſon as Semiramis:’ and again, ‘I think it is plain that Semiramis was an emblem, and that the name was a compound of Sama Ramas, or Ramis, and it ſignified the Divine Token, the Type of Providence; and as a military enſign (for as ſuch it was uſed) it may with ſome latitude be interpreted the Standard of the Moſt High. It conſiſted of the figure of a dove, which was probably circled with the iris, as thoſe two emblems were often repreſented together. All who went under that ſtandard, or who paid any deference to that emblem, were ſtiled Semarim or Samorim.’

[196]Without robbing this highly reſpectable writer of the credit he juſtly derives from having thrown many ſatisfactory rays of light on the dove of the ark, it might ſtill perhaps be no very difficult taſk to eſtabliſh the exiſtence of one, or of more than one Semiramis, againſt the ſuppoſition of his annihilating fancy; and ſhould the animated Mr. Morrit amuſe himſelf and his readers in vindicating the life and beauty of Semiramis with the ſame ſpirit that he defended the palace of old Priam, againſt the deſtroying whirlwind of Mr. Bryant's imagination, I hope the venerable Coryphaeus of claſſical erudition, who has himſelf made ſo free with the arguments and conjectures of the higheſt literary names, will not feel angrily unwilling to indulge in a ſimilar freedom a ſpirited and graceful ſcholar, of whom we may ſay, in the words of Homer, (allowing to his aged antagoniſt the dignity of a ſovereign in Grecian literature,)

[...]
[...].

Appendix A.2.7 NOTE VII. Ver. 130. And guards thy maſſive monarchs with reſpect.

Of all the modern writers on early ſculpture, M. de Caylus ſeems to have rendered the moſt liberal juſtice to the merit of the Aegyptians, in the following remark:

Le gout pour la ſolidité les a empêchés de faire ſaillir aucune partie, et les a bornés à des attitudes ſimples, qui ſont devenues monotones; et cette monotonie, qui n'étoit peut-être pas un défaut à leurs yeux, devoit être inévitable, les combinaiſons des attitudes étant fort reſſerrées, et l'action étant abſolument retranchée. Cependant il ne faut [197] pas croire pour cela que leurs artiſtes aient toujours été depourvûs d'une ſorte de fineſſe dans les dètails. Il eſt inutile de pouſſer plus loin cet examen: on conviendra que leurs ſculpteurs ont ſenti et exprimé le grand, et c'eſt en céci que conſiſte la premiere et la plus eſſentielle partie de l'art, puiſqu' elle ſeule éléve l'eſprit du ſpectateur. C'eſt encore le même deſire de faire paſſer leurs ouvrages à la poſterité, qui leur a fait préférer les bas-reliefs en creux, à ceux qui ſont de demi-boſſe; ces derniers étant expoſés à un plus grand nombre d'accidens. Enfin, ils ont connu toutes les parties de la ſculpture, juſqu'à la gravure des pierres.—Antiquités, tom. i. p. 6.

That the Aegyptians delighted in the ſculpture of gems we have a pleaſing proof in the circumſtance recorded by Aelian, that the chief of their judges wore round his neck an image of Truth, engraven on a ſapphire*.

It is remarkable that Lucian, by birth an Aſſyrian, and in his youth a ſculptor by profeſſion, ſpeaks with ſerious eſteem of the ancient Aegyptians, as diſtinguiſhed by their meritorious efforts in the infancy of Art.

Appendix A.2.8 NOTE VIII. Ver. 140. For Greece, their Helen! was by Aegypt rear'd.

Pauſanias aſſerts that the figures of ſtone on the tomb of Coraebus were the moſt ancient in Greece; and as Coraebus lived in the age of Cecrops, who had migrated into that country from Aegypt, it is probable that the Greeks derived from the attendants of this Aegyptian, [198] their knowledge of an art which began to diſplay itſelf among them at that early period. D'Hancarville ingeniouſly interprets the fables concerning the ſtones of Deucalion, and the ſerpent's teeth of Cadmus, as alluding to the origin of Sculpture.

Deucalion et Coraebe furent contemporains de Cécrops: Cadmus vécut avec Hellen, de qui les Grecs prirent le nom d'Hellenes; il étoit fils de Deucalion. Les fables diſoient de ce dernier, que des hommes naquirent des pierres qu'il jetta par derriere lui, après le deluge qui arriva de ſon tems; ces mêmes fables racontoient que des guerriers tout armés naquirent des dents du ſerpent tirés par Cadmus, et ſemés dans la terre. Comme vers le regne de Cecrops on fit en pierre les figures du tombeau du Coraebe, ces fables étoient peutêtre inventées, pour marquer dans le ſtyle dont on ſe ſervoit alors, qu' au tems de Deucalion et de Cadmus, l'uſage de faire avec des pierres et de l'ivoire des figures qui repréſentoient des hommes s'introduiſit dans la Gréce.—Antiquités Etruſques, tom. iii. p. 58.

The Aegyptians ſeem to have taken a pride in their early diſtinction; for Herodotus ſays they boaſted of having invented ſtatues; and Diodorus Siculus mentions their idea that men were firſt created in Aegypt.

Appendix A.2.9 NOTE IX. Ver. 148. The paths of knowledge, truth, and fame are yours.

An alluſion to the following paſſage from the 14th of Pindar's Olympic Odes, in which that poet has happily expreſſed the high ideas he entertained on the influence of the Graces:

[...]
[...]
[...]
[...].

[199]In the Memoirs of the French Academy there is an animated diſſertation "Sur les Graces," by that amiable ſcholar the Abbé Maſſieu, who has collected from ancient authors every particular relating to theſe favourite divinities of Greece.

The following paſſage enumerates ſome of the moſt eminent works of art devoted to their honour:

Enfin les anciens aimoient à marquer leur zèle pour leurs dieux, par divers monumens qu'ils élévoient à leur gloire, par des tableaux, par des ſtatues, par des inſcriptions, par des médailles. Or toute la Gréce étoit pleine de ſemblables monumens, que la piété publique avoit conſacrés aux Graces. On voyoit dans la plupart des villes leurs figures, faites par les plus grands maitres. Il y avoit à Pergame un tableau de ces déeſſes peint pour Pythagore de Paros. Un autre à Smyrne, qui étoit de la main d'Apelle. Socrate avoit fait leurs ſtatues en marble, et Bupale les fit en or. Pauſanias parle de pluſieurs autres également recommendables par la richeſſe de la matière, et par la beauté du travail. Démoſthène rapporte dans la harangue pour la couronne, que les Athéniens ayant ſecouru les habitans de la Querſonès;e dans un beſoin preſſant, ceux-ci pour éterniſer le ſouvenir d'un tel bienfait élevèrent un autel avec cette inſcription: 'Autel conſacré à celle des Graces qui préſide á la reconnoiſſance.

Appendix A.2.10 NOTE X. Ver. 166. To limit England in ſphere of art.

Every friend to literary merit muſt lament that writers of ſuch deſerved celebrity as Monteſquieu and Winkelman, could be induced to disfigure their immortal works with the ſuppoſition that the inhabitants of England labour under a natural incapacity of attaining excellence in [200] the fine arts; a ſuppoſition that can only diſgrace thoſe who admit and endeavour to ſupport it.

Appendix A.2.11 NOTE XI. Ver. 270. And bleſs'd a bold progenitor in thee.

Daedalus was univerſally revered by antiquity as the father of Grecian ſculpture: but in proportion as his genius became an object of public veneration, his perſonal hiſtory was ſo involved in the decorations or diſguiſes of fable, that (to the regret of thoſe who love to inveſtigate the lives of meritorious men) it is hardly poſſible to obtain a ſatisfactory account of this celebrated ſculptor, architect, and mechaniſt, whoſe early and ſucceſsful ingenuity has ſo juſtly endeared his name to every lover of art.

The learned Junius has aſſigned a very copious article to Daedalus, in his catalogue of antient artiſts; and the Abbé Gedoyn (the reſpectable tranſlator of Quintilian and Pauſanias) has introduced a hiſtory of Daedalus into the Memoirs of the French Academy. Theſe two elaborate writers have collected all that antiquity could furniſh to elucidate his life; but they both ſeem to admit, as an eſtabliſhed fact, one moſt diſhonourable circumſtance in the hiſtory of their hero, which I am inclined to conſider as not more entitled to ſerious credit than the moſt fabulous portion of his adventures; I mean, the horrid ſuppoſition that he enviouſly murdered his nephew and his diſciple, for poſſeſſing ingenuity ſuperior to his own.

Of this I ſhall ſpeak in its place: let me firſt relate the more early particulars that ancient writers have recorded concerning this celebrated ſculptor. He was by birth an Athenian; and though authors differ on the name of his father, they agree in repreſenting him as the grandſon [201] or great-grandſon of Erectheus, the ſixth ſovereign of Athens; and Pauſanias aſſerts that he lived in the period when Oedipus reigned in Thebes; that is, about half a century before the ſiege of Troy. Diodorus Siculus, who may be called the earlieſt biographer of Daedalus that we poſſeſs, deſcribes him as having greatly improved the rude ſculpture of his age, and excited the admiration of his contemporaries, before the charge of having deſtroyed his diſciple reduced him to the neceſſity of flying from his country.

In the account that Diodorus has given of this very improbable crime, there is one particular that ſeems to mark the whole ſtory as a fabulous invention. It is ſaid that this ingenious diſciple, the ſon of his ſiſter, was led to invent a ſaw by the accident of finding the jaw of a ſerpent, and by obſerving the uſe to which its teeth might be ſucceſſfully applied. It is alſo ſaid that Daedalus, being ſurpriſed and queſtioned in the act of burying the murdered youth, anſwered, that he was conſigning a ſerpent to the earth.

The hiſtorian mentions it as a wonder (and it ſeems one of thoſe ſpecious wonders, which the Greeks were ſo fond of inventing) that the ſame animal (the ſerpent) ſhould prove both the ſource of a moſt uſeful invention, and the means of detecting an execrable crime. The ſuppoſed criminal is ſaid to have been condemned by that ſolemn tribunal the Areopagus: but the mode in which the royal ſculptor is imagined to have accompliſhed the deſtruction of his diſciple is ſuch, that it could hardly admit any legal proof of a murderous intention. Ovid has briefly and forcibly ſtated the circumſtance to which I allude:

Daedalus invidit, ſacraque ex arce Minervae
Praecipitem miſit, lapſum mentitus.

[202]The poet adds, that the falling youth was metamorphoſed into a partridge by the pity of Minerva; and I confeſs that I conſider the metamorphoſis and the murder as equally fabulous.

Every good mind that reflects on the ſubject will eſteem it hardly poſſible that a man in an elevated rank of life, and bleſt himſelf with a variety of talents, could be induced to murder a promiſing youth whom he had engaged to inſtruct, and the child of his own ſiſter, for diſplaying ſuch ingenuity as a maſter and a relation would be naturally diſpoſed to admire and encourage. A fact of this complexion ought, for the honour of human nature, never to be admitted, except in caſes where the evidence that ſupports it is irreſiſtible.

For the glory of Daedalus we may affirm, that the improbable atrocity imputed to him is ſo far from being proved by any teſtimony, that it reſts only on dark tradition; and the whole ſtory has ſo much the air of a fable, that it ought long ago to have been diſcountenanced and diſcarded by every ſerious biographer of this illuſtrious artiſt. Yet writers are ſo apt to tranſcribe the wonderful tales of their predeceſſors without examination, or to credit enormities aſcribed to men of talents and diſtinction, that this barbarous ſtory has been credulouſly repeated from age to age. The modern and enlightened authors who have recently diſcuſſed the hiſtory of Daedalus do not ſcruple to paint him as an aſſaiſin. The Abbé Gedoyn endeavours to varniſh his own cruel credulity on this ſubject by the following remark: ‘De tout tems une baſſe jalouſie a été le vice des artiſans, même de ceux qui font profeſſion des arts les plus nobles; j'en pourrois citer pluſieurs exemples en France, comme ailleurs.’

An Italian writer of our own time, (Franceſco Miliſia,) who has publiſhed an entertaining and ſucceſsful Hiſtory of Architects, ancient and modern, ſpeaks of Daedalus in his architectural character, and repeats, [203] in brief but energetic terms, his viſionary crime*. As I am inclined to believe that the artiſts of England may be leſs acquainted with theſe feelings of nera geloſia (to uſe the words of the Italian whom I have quoted) than the more impaſſioned natives of France and Italy, I hope they will approve my endeavour to vindicate from the horrible imputation of an envious murder their ancient brother of Athens. At all events I have a pleaſure in perſuading myſelf that he was as clearly innocent as he was confeſſedly ingenious. When he removed from Attica, whatever the cauſe of that removal might be, he is ſaid to have obtained the friendſhip of Minos, the ſecond of that name, who reigned in Crete; and to have executed, in wood, two ſtatues of Phaedra and Ariadne, the celebrated daughters of the Cretan monarch. In Crete he is reported to have built a labyrinth of marvellous intricacy, and copied, on a ſmaller ſcale, from a portentous edifice of Aegypt. He muſt have ſtudied, therefore, the works of Aegyptian art in their own country, before his viſit to Crete. The Cretans were ever remarkable for their groſs deviation from truth; and the narrative of ſome ſculptural works aſcribed to Daedalus, in their iſland, contains the moſt filthy and diſguſting fable that ever ſullied the pages of fiction. The reader acquainted with mythology will immediately perceive that I allude to the fable of Paſiphae, the moſt cruelly calumniated queen that ever ſuffered from the licentiouſneſs of fancy. Some decent interpreters of her ſtory have ſuppoſed that ſhe was enamoured of a Cretan officer who bore the name of Taurus, and that Daedalus was employed in aſſiſting their illicit attachment: but Lucian, with an admirable mixture of wit and good-nature, imagines the Taurus of Paſiphae's [204] affection to have been merely the ſign of the zodiac diſtinguiſhed by that appellation; and Deadalus is very happily metamorphoſed, by this ſuppoſition, from the culpable confident of a diſhonourable intrigue, into an innocent maſter of aſtronomy. But however blameleſs the intercourſe might be between the ſlandered Paſiphae and the ingenious Athenian, Daedalus appears to have incurred the reſentment of the Cretan monarch, and to have been under the neceſſity of eſcaping from his dominion with ſecret rapidity. Hence aroſe the fable of his inventing wings for himſelf and his ſon Icarus; a fable ſo captivating to the fancy of the Latin poets, that Ovid has related it twice at conſiderable length*. Virgil has embelliſhed it in a few verſes of ſingular delicacy and pathos. Horace, Silius Italicus, and Auſonius have all mentioned it occaſionally. The ancient and ſenſible interpreter of incredible fictions, Palaephatus, has turned the fabulous wings of Daedalus and his ſon into ſails. He aſſerts, that being impriſoned by Minos, they eſcaped from a window of their priſon, and embarked in a ſkiff: but being purſued by the veſſels of Minos, in tempeſtuous weather, the father only got ſafe to land and completed his eſcape. Apollodorus relates that Hercules found the body of Icarus caſt aſhore upon an iſland, to which he gave the name of Icaria, in honour of the youth, whom he buried. The ſame author adds, that Daedalus rewarded his illuſtrious friend for this humanity ſhewn to his unfortunate child, by executing a ſtatue of Hercules, which that hero miſtaking in the night, for a living figure, is ſaid to have ſtruck with a ſtone. Pauſanias mentions this ſtatue as preſerved by the Thebans in a temple of Hercules, and gives a ſimilar account of its origin as a tribute of gratitude from the afflicted father, whoſe eſcape from Crete he alſo aſcribes, like Palaephatus, to the uſe of ſails. Though Virgil and Silius Italicus repreſent Daedalus as building the temple of the Cumaean Apollo, immediately [205] after his eſcape from the tyranny of Minos, the Greek hiſtorian of his adventures ſuppoſes him to have proceeded from Crete to Sicily, and to have ingratiated himſelf ſo ſucceſsfully with Cocalus, a prince of that country, that when Minos, with a naval force, purſued and demanded the fugitive, his generous protector, inſtead of betraying his ingenious gueſt, from whoſe architectural talents he is ſaid to have derived great advantage, endeavoured to negotiate with Minos in his favour. The Cretan monarch accepted the invitation of the Sicilian prince, and, according to the accounts of more than one ancient Greek author, the daughters of Cocalus contrived, from their partiality to the Athenian artiſt, to deſtroy his formidable enemy; which they are ſaid to have accompliſhed by the means of a hot bath, in ſuch a manner, that the Cretans who attended their king ſuppoſed his death to be natural, and departed in peace with his remains—a tale that has much the appearance of fiction.

Daedalus is reported to have expreſſed his gratitude towards his Sicilian protector by executing many ingenious works in his country. Diodorus relates that he built an impregnable palace for his royal friend; that he fortified and adorned the temple of Venus Erycina; and that he conſtructed a vapour-bath, in which the ſick were pleaſantly cured of their infirmities, without ſuffering from its heat*. Concerning the latter days and death of Daedalus antiquity furniſhes no anecdotes: but the learned Abbé Gedoyn imagines, with great probability, that from Italy he paſſed again into Aegypt, and ended his life in that country—an idea that he reſts on the authority of the Aegyptian prieſts, who reported, according to the narrative of Diodorus Siculus, that Daedalus conſtructed a moſt beautiful veſtibule to the [206] temple of Vulcan at Memphis, and was held in ſuch veneration by the Aegyptians, that they placed in that temple a ſtatue which he had carved in wood of himſelf, and raiſed, in one of the adjacent iſlands, a temple to the artiſt, in which his memory was religiouſly worſhipped by the natives of that country.

Thus incomplete are the beſt accounts that ancient and modern authors afford of this extraordinary and intereſting perſonage, whoſe exiſtence, like that of Prometheus and Semiramis, has been queſtioned by the ſcrutinizing ſpirit of modern refinement. A very ingenious and learned French commentator on Pliny, who ſeems actuated, like Mr. Bryant, by a paſſion for etymological chemiſtry, would reduce the active Athenian artiſt into a mere Syrian ſymbol*. But preſuming on the evidence of ſeveral works (very credibly imputed to this early ſculptor) that he really exiſted, and preſuming this with the more confidence becauſe one of his works has the happy and immortal diſtinction of being deſcribed by Homer, I ſhall proceed to enumerate thoſe memorable productions in Sculpture which antiquity aſſigned to him, and which the courſe of this narrative has not yet led me to mention. Of theſe, the moſt ſtriking are two ſtatues of himſelf and his ſon Icarus; the one formed of tin, the other of braſs, and ſaid to have been ſtationed in thoſe iſlands of the Adriatic gulf that were called Electrides.

[207]Ariſtotle, from whom Stephanus of Byzantium borrowed his account of theſe queſtionable ſtatues, has mentioned Daedalus as a maker of puppets that moved by an infuſion of quickſilver; an idea that D'Hancarville has ridiculed with contemptuous pleaſantry:

Sur le temoignage d'un certain Philippe, Ariſtote, plus de neuf cents ans après Dedale, aſſuroit qu'au moyen du vif argent, il fit une ſtatue qui marchoit effectivement. Beaucoup d'auteurs, malheureuſement très-graves, Dion Chryſoſtome entr'autres, copierent cette fable, et ſuivant l'uſage l'appuyèrent de leur autorité; je les croirois plus volontiers s'ils euſſent écrit que Dedale fit des automates philoſophes, capables d'écrire ſeriuſement de tels contes; ils ſerviroient eux-mêmes de juſtification à ma croyance.

Pauſanias records, with particular care, the more authentic works of Daedalus that remained in his time: his ſtatue of Hercules, at Thebes; of Trophonius, among the Lebadenſes in Boeotia: thoſe of Britomartis and of Minerva, in Crete; with the dance of Ariadne, mentioned by Homer in the Iliad, and wrought on white marble; among the Delians, a Venus in wood, with her right hand periſhing by Time, and raiſed on a ſquare baſis inſtead of feet, "I am perſuaded," ſays Pauſanias, ‘that Ariadne received this image from Daedalus, and carried it with her, when ſhe attended Theſeus. The Delians affirm that Theſeus himſelf devoted it to their Apollo, that it might not, on his return to his own country, awaken in his mind a painful and paſſionate recollection of Ariadne. Beſides theſe,’ concludes Pauſanias, ‘I know not any works of Daedalus remaining; for as to thoſe which the Argives had conſecrated in their temple of Juno, and thoſe removed to Gela in Sicily from Omphace, they have diſappeared by the influence of Time.’

Pauſanias, in a former part of his deſcription, had mentioned another ſtatue of Hercules by the ſame artiſt, executed alſo in wood, and [208] placed near a temple of Minerva, in the territory of Corinth. This ſtatue, deſcribed as naked, may be therefore conſidered as the ſource of the faſhion that prevailed in the heroic images of Greece; and Pauſanias, in his account of it, delivers his opinion on the works of Daedalus in general. They did not ſatisfy the ſight, (accuſtomed to the productions of improved art,) yet they had in them an air of inſpiration*.

From this candid account, a modern reader may eaſily conceive the kind of deficiency, and the degree of animation, that were viſible in the ſtatues of this early artiſt. His extraordinary ſkill as a ſculptor ſeems to reſt on his marble bas-relief, repreſenting the Dance of Ariadne; I ſhall therefore cloſe this long, yet imperfect note, on the father of Grecian art, by tranſcribing the deſcription which Homer has given of his moſt memorable work, with the lively remarks of D'Hancarville on this ancient and intereſting ſculpture.

Homer, in deſcribing the ſhield of Achilles, pays the following tribute to the merit of Daedalus:

[...],
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...].
[...]
[...]
[209] [...]
[...].
[...]
[...]
[...].
Iliad 18. v. 590.

A figur'd dance ſucceeds. Such once was ſeen
In lofty Gnoſſus, for the Cretan queen
Form'd by Daedalean art. A comely band
Of youths and maidens bounding, hand in hand;
The maids in ſoft cymars of linen dreſs'd,
The youths all graceful in the gloſſy veſt.
Of thoſe, the locks with flowery wreaths inroll'd;
Of theſe, the ſides adorn'd with ſwords of gold,
That, glittering gay, from ſilver belts depend.
Now all at once they riſe, at once deſcend
With well-taught feet: now ſhape in oblique ways,
Confuſedly regular, the moving maze:
Now forth at once, too ſwift for ſight, they ſpring,
And, undiſtinguiſh'd, blend the flying ring.
So whirls a wheel, in giddy circle toſs'd,
And, rapid as it runs, the ſingle ſpokes are loſt.
The gazing multitudes admire around
Two active tumblers in the centre bound;
Now high, now low, their pliant limbs they bend,
And general ſongs the ſprightly revel end.
POPE.

[210]The recent verſion of my admirable friend, which he has lately and happily retouched, is more faithful to Homer and to Daedalus:

To theſe the glorious artiſt added next
A varied dance, reſembling that of old
In Crete's broad iſle, by Daedalus compos'd
For bright-hair'd Ariadne. There the youths
And youth-alluring maidens, hand in hand,
Danc'd jocund; every maiden neat-attir'd
In fineſt linen, and the youths in veſts
Well-woven, gloſſy as the glaze of oil.
Theſe all wore garlands, and bright faulchions thoſe,
Of burniſh'd gold, in ſilver trappings hung.
They with well-tutor'd ſteps now nimbly ran
The circle, ſwift as, when before his wheel
Seated, the potter twirls it with both hands
For trial of its ſpeed; now croſſing quick,
They paſs'd at once into each other's place.
A circling crowd ſurvey'd the lovely dance,
Delighted: two, the leading pair, their heads
With graceful inclination bowing oft,
Paſs'd ſwift between them, and began the ſong.
COWPER.

Cet ouvrage de ſculpture, executé près de cinq cents ans après l'invention de la ſtatuaire, decrit environ trois ſiècles après Dedale par Homere, qui l'avoit aſſurement vu, puiſque Pauſanias, plus de mille ans depuis, reconnoit que c'eſt le même dont il eſt parlé dans l'Iliade, à laquelle, curieux obſervateur et ſavant comme il étoit, il n'avoit ſans doubte pas manqué de le comparer; car il l'avoit ſi bien examiné qu'il ſpecifie même la matière dont il étoit fait; un tel monument [211] dis-je, détaillé par un homme tel qu' Homère, dont on connoit l'exactitude dans les moindres details où il entre ſur les arts, eſt ſans doubte la preuve la plus authentique qui puiſſe jamais exiſter des grands progrès faits par la ſculpture au moins cent ans avant la priſe de Troye, et de l'erreur dans laquelle le peu de critique des anciens, mais ſur-tout de Pline, a jetté les modernes au ſujet de l'ancienneté des arts.....Ce bas rélief repréſentant deux tems d'une même action, étoit néceſſairement diviſé en deux parties, ou par une vaſe on par une colonne, comme on en a pluſieurs exemples dans les monumens antiques. Le premier de ces tableaux repréſentoit le commencement de la danſe, qui ſe mouvoit en cercle comme pour s'eſſayer; le Coryphée avec ſa compagne entonnoit la chanſon qui en étoit le motif, et que le reſte des danſeurs répétoit. Par les plis et replis de la figure qu'ils formoient, ils marquoient dans le ſecond tableau les tours et les détours du labyrinthe d'ou Théſée ſortit au moyen du fil dont Ariane l'avoit pourvu. Dédale, au rapport de Lucien, l'avoit inſtruite de cette danſe; et, ſuivant Homère, il en étoit l'inventeur. C'eſt le plus ancien ballet figuré dont il foit parlé dans les anciens auteurs; il fût le modèle de tous ceux qui repréſenterent depuis les actions et les moeurs des hommes: cet art, ſi l'on en croit Plutarque fût porté ſi loin qu'il approchoit plus de la poeſie, que la peinture même.

Il paroit que les draperies des figures de ce bas-relief colorées ſur le bouclier d'Achille, à l'aide des differens métaux qu'on y ſuppoſe employés, l'étoient auffi ſur le marbre: dela vient cette expreſſion [...] pour marquer un choeur de diverſes couleurs. Nous avons déjà parlé des ſtatues de bois peintes et dorées faites avant Dédale: mais les anciens colorerent auſſi et dorérent le marbre, comme on le peut voir par la petite Iſis trouvée à Pompeia, par la Diane conſervée à Portici, par les cheveux de la belle Vénus de Medicis, et le diademe [212] de l'autre Vénus, conſervée avec la première, dans la tribune de la galerie de Florence. Je crois donc que les robes de lin et de laine, que portoient les danſeuſes et les danſeurs de ce bas-relief, étoient peintes, que les ceinturons de ces derniers étoient argentés, et que leurs epées étoient dorées.

Si l'on compare ce que dit Homère de ce monument, avec ce que Pauſanias et Platon ont écrit des autres ouvrages de Dédale, on verra que la compoſition de cette danſe ne pouvoit être mieux entendue ni plus riche ou plus agréable qu'elle l'étoit: elle ſemble avoir donné l'idée des heures, que l'on voit à la vigne Borghèſe, et de celles dont le Guide a entouré le char de l'Aurore qu'il a peinte dans le palais Roſpigliozi à Rome. Cependant on n'exécute jamais tout ce que l'on concoit, parceque l'habilité de la main, la connoiſſance des vrais principes de l'art et des moyens qu'il peut employer, ne répondent pas toujours à la grandeur du génie et des idées de celui qui compoſe: ſi l'on s'en rapporte au jugement de Pauſanias ſur le caractère des ſtatues de Dédale; on trouvera que l'exécution de ce bas-relief a dû être inférieure à ſa compoſition; que le ſtyle, quoique fort et vigoreux en dévoit être auſtère et privé de grace; ſi toutefois l'on s'en rapporte à Platon, il foudra croire que les figures employées à rendre ces belles idées, manquoient encore par l'exactitude du deſſin, et ſans doubte par la juſteſſe des proportions: mais il eſt aſſuré que l'on y voyoit les ſemences de tout ce que la ſculpture fit de mieux dans les tems poſtérieurs. Homère, qui s'il ſe fût adonné à la ſculpture ou à la peinture, eût aſſurement été auſſi habile ſculpteur ou peintre qu'il étoit grand poete, nous a deſſiné plutôt que décrit ce bas-relief, avec route la vérité et la ſimplicité qu'eût jamais pu y mettre le plus ſavant artiſte, en le rendant ſur le toile ou ſur le marbre. On croit le voir en liſant la copie qu'il en a faite; la matière ſeule en eſt détruite, mais il nous en a conſervé la partie la plus precieuſe: ſes vers, [213] comme autant de pinceaux donnent à la nature ce coloris et cette fraicheur qui la rendent ſi aimable. Il faut donc que malgré les reproches faits à Dédale, Homère ait trouvé dans ſon ouvrage ce gout et ce ſentiment, qui ſeuls ſont capables d'echauffer l'imagination, parcequ'ils touchent le coeur, peuvent inſpirer des idées riantes à l'eſprit par le ſouvenir des choſes agréables qu'ils lui rappellent, et fournir à tous deux les images charmantes dont il a fait uſage.

Antiquités Etruſques, Grecques, et Romaines, tom. iii. p. 96.

I have tranſcribed theſe copious remarks, becauſe they ſeem to place in a very fair and judicious point of view the merits of the early ſculptor, whoſe obſcure hiſtory I have wiſhed to illuſtrate. With ſuch a deſire, I have particularly to regret one of the loſt comedies aſcribed to Ariſtophanes, which bore the name of Daedalus: yet it is poſſible that ſuch a compoſition might not have afforded that clear light concerning the life and character of the artiſt, which we might eagerly expect from its title. As it was the favourite amuſement of Ariſtophanes to ridicule the tragic poets of his country, perhaps his Daedalus contained little more than a ludicrous parody on the Prometheus of Aeſchylus. However this might be, the name of Daedalus appears to have been generally honoured by the poets of Greece; and I haſten to conclude this attempt to elucidate and confirm his reputation with the words of a Greek epigram, that repreſent him as a paragon of excellence:

[...]
[...].

Momus will ſcoff at art, in every ſhape;
Nor could her hero, Daedalus, eſcape.

[214]There were two ſubſequent artiſts, of conſiderable eminence, who bore the name of Daedalus. The firſt, a native of Sicyon, acquired celebrity by many ſtatues that are mentioned by Pliny and Pauſanias. The latter was probably a Bithynian, as he is ſuppoſed to have executed, at Nicomedia, a wonderful image of Jupiter, the patron of armies*.

The learned Abbé Barthelemy ſays, in a note to his elaborate and lively travels of Anacharſis, ‘Je ne nie pas l'exiſtence d'un Dédale très ancien. Je dis ſeulement que les premiers progrés de la ſculpture doivent être attribués à celui de Sicyone.—Tom. iii. p. 558.

I am ſorry to differ from ſo accompliſhed a judge of antiquity; but I conſider the ſculptural merit of the elder Daedalus as completely proved by the teſtimony of Homer. The works of Endaeus, the Athenian diſciple of this early artiſt, are mentioned by Athenagoras and Pauſanias. The latter ſeems to have examined the works of Endaeus with peculiar attention.

Appendix A.2.12 NOTE XII. Ver. 290. And from oblivion ſav'd the artiſt and the bard.

Although the Lacedaemonians were ſo little attached to the pacific and elegant purſuits of life, that, according to a bold expreſſion of Iſocrates concerning them, they were hardly acquainted with their letters, yet they ſeem to have paid particular regard to the art of ſculpture. Pauſanias, with his uſual accuracy, has recorded that this early and accompliſhed artiſt, Gitiadas, whom he celebrates for the variety of his talents, was a native of Sparta. The minute and intelligent [215] deſcriber of his ſculptural works ſpeaks highly of the figures that he executed in braſs, particularly thoſe of Neptune and Amphitrite. That the Lacedemonians had a ſtrong paſſion for ſculpture ſeems evident, from the magnificence of their Amyclaean Apollo, whoſe throne was decorated by Bathycles, an artiſt of Magneſia, and compriſed, as M. de Caylus has juſtly obſerved, an epitome of ancient mythology. Winkelman ſuppoſes Bathycles to have lived in the age of Solon. One ſingular advantage which the Spartans expected to derive from the poſſeſſion of fine ſtatues was to improve the beauty of their offspring; a ſource of their partiality both to ſculpture and to painting which Junius has explained in the following paſſage: ‘Lacedaemonii quondam in reliquis horridiores, pulcherrimas quaſque picturas in ſummo ſemper habuerunt pretio; dicuntur enim de liberorum ſuorum pulchritudine tantopere ſolliciti fuiſſe, ut formoſiſſimorum adoleſcentium Nirei, Narciſſi, Hiacinthi, Caſtoris et Pollucis, deorumque ſpecioſiſſimorum Apollinis nempe ac Bacchi effigies gravidis uxoribus repraeſentarent. JUNIUS, de Pictura Veterum, p. 71.

On the works of Gitiadas, which conſiſted of brazen bas-reliefs, in the temple of the Spartan Minerva, D'Hancarville has made the following judicious remark:

La ſculpture dans les ouvrages de Gitiadas étoit auſſi avancée, que l'étoit la peinture dans ceux d'Helotas, faits peu avant lui, ſuivant le rapport de Pline: cet art étoit par conſequent arrivé en Grèce au point où il parvint en Italie, quand Laurent Ghiberti fit en bronze les admirables bas-reliefs des portes du baptiſtaire de Florence, et par une ſingularité remarquable les arts firent dans ces deux pays les mêmes progrés en des tems à-peu-près egaux.

Gitiadas, according to probable conjecture, lived in the age of Romulus.

Appendix A.2.13 NOTE XIII. Ver. 302. Where haſte inſulted his unfiniſh'd toil.

[216]

Dipaenus and Scyllis are uſually mentioned together as brothers and aſſociates in their art, which they learnt from Daedalus. Some authors (according to Pauſanias) ſuppoſed them to be his ſons. The moſt ſtriking part of their hiſtory is contained in the following paſſage of Pliny:

Marmore ſcalpendo primi omnium inclaruerunt Dipaenus et Scyllis, geniti in Creta inſula, etiamnum Medis imperantibus, priuſque quam Cyrus in Perſis regnare inciperet: hoc eſt Olympiade circiter L. Ii Sicyonem ſe contulere, quae diu fuit officinarum omnium metallorum patria. Deorum quorundam ſimulacra publice locaverant Sicyonii: quae priuſquam abſolverentur, artifices injuriam queſti abierunt in Aetolos. Protinus Sicyonios infanda invaſit ſterilitas, moerorque dirus. Remedium petentibus, Apollo Pythius affuturum reſpondit, ſi Dipaenus et Scyllus deorum ſimulacra perfeciſſent: quod magnis mercedibus obſequiiſque impetratum eſt. Fuere autem ſimulacra ea Apollinis, Dianae, Herculis, Minervae, quod e coelo poſtea tactum eſt. PLIN. lib. 36. c. 5.

Cedrenus has deſcribed a very curious Minerva, ſuppoſed to be the work of theſe fraternal artiſts, as preſerved at Conſtantinople:

[...].—CEDRENUS, p. 254. edit. Venet.

Appendix A.2.14 NOTE XIV. Ver. 316. And blam'd the mean abuſe of mental power.

[217]

Anthermus, a ſculptor in the iſland of Chios, had two ſons of his own profeſſion, Bupalus and Athenis. The brothers became famous by works of conſiderable merit in their art; and ſtill more ſo by their degrading it into an inſtrument of malevolence againſt the poet Hipponax. This animated but ill-favoured bard, diſtinguiſhed by mental talents and perſonal deformity, is ſuppoſed to have been in love with the daughter of Bupalus, who, to prevent a connexion that he diſliked, is ſaid to have exhibited a caricatura of the formidable lover. The exaſperated poet retaliated by a ſatire of ſuch ſeverity againſt the offending ſculptors, that, according to tradition, it made them frantic, and impelled them to ſuicide—a ſtory which, as Pliny juſtly obſerves upon it, was ſufficiently refuted by their ſubſequent productions.

Their caricature of Hipponax (perhaps the firſt caricature upon record) is ſuppoſed by D'Hancarville to have ſuggeſted to Theſpis, their contemporary, the idea of furniſhing his actors with a maſk, inſtead of colouring their faces with vermilion. The ſatire of the vindictive poet, though we may hope it did not produce the horrible effect aſcribed to it, appears to have given celebrity to its indignant author. The Greek Anthologia contains no leſs than four inſcriptions on this powerful ſatiriſt. I have ſelected the two beſt of them, for the amuſement of my reader:

[218] [...].
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...].
[...]
[...].
Grotii Verſio.
Quam potes hinc tacitus tranſi, ne forte crabronem
Expergefacias, quem ſopor altus habet:
Hipponactis enim quae natos ſaeva latravit
Ira ſuos, multa nunc cubat in requie.
Sed cave nunc etiam ſodes: ex ipſius aula
Ditis adhuc laedunt ignea dicta viri.
Leonidas on Hipponax.
Glide gently by this tomb, for quiet's ſake,
Leſt you the bitter, ſleeping hornet wake!
For he, whoſe gibes againſt his parents glanc'd,
Here now the keen Hipponax lies entranc'd!
Beware! for ſtill his fiery words may flow,
And wound with rancour in the ſhades below.
[219] [...].
[...]:
[...]
[...]
[...].
Grotii Verſio.
Vates ſepultus hic quieſcit Hipponax;
Abſcede buſto, ſi quis es mala mente!
Quod ſi bonus ſis ipſe, de bonis natus,
Tutus ſedeto: ſi libebit et dormi.
See here the bard Hipponax lie;
Hence from his grave, if wicked, fly!
Here reſt, if thou in life art pure,
And, if thou wiſh it, ſleep ſecure.

Hipponax was a native of Epheſus, and he is celebrated by Athenaeus as the inventor of parody: but his title to that invention is in ſome meaſure controverted by the Abbé Sallier, in his Diſſertation on the Origin and Character of Parody, in the Memoirs of the French Academy. Bayle has an article on Hipponax, in which he has collected many curious examples of perſons who have ſuffered from the dangerous ſeverity of literary vengeance. The enmity between the ſculptor of Chios and the Epheſian ſatiriſt will probably recall to the recollection of [220] an Engliſh reader the ſimilar enmity between thoſe bitter and powerful antagoniſts, Hogarth and Churchill.

From the ſlight fragments that remain of Hipponax, I am inclined to believe that his Satires, celebrated as they have been, were inferior in genius, and perhaps in acrimony, to the vindictive performance of the Engliſh poet, which contains ſo many beautiful paſſages, (beautiful both in ſentiment and expreſſion,) that although good-nature muſt wiſh the quarrel which produced it had never exiſted, the poem is ſtill admirable as a maſterpiece of poetical indignation.

Appendix A.2.15 NOTE XV. Ver. 326. Whoſe very ſilence cried aloud, "Be free!"

The paſſion of the Greeks for liberty was at once proclaimed and nouriſhed by the various honours which they paid to the memory of Harmodius and Ariſtogiton.

Theſe celebrated young friends had periſhed in their perilous exploit of delivering Athens from the tyranny of Hipparchus: but the grateful Athenians revered them as the reſtorers of freedom; and according to the animated expreſſions of Demoſthenes in their praiſe, the veneration which they received from public gratitude was equal to that of heroes and of gods. The four ſtatuaries, Antenor, Critias, Antigonus, and Praxiteles, had diſtinguiſhed themſelves, at different periods, in executing the ſtatues of theſe favourite public characters. Pliny relates that this work of Praxiteles was carried off by Xerxes, in the plunder of Athens, and reſtored to that city by Alexander the Great, after his conqueſt of Perſia. Arrian appears ſo much pleaſed with this munificence of his [221] hero to Athens, that he has mentioned the reſtitution of theſe intereſting ſtatues in two different paſſages of his Hiſtory; and exultingly ſays, in his account of them, "they are now in the Ceramicus*!" Pauſanias aſſerts that the ſtatues were reſtored to Athens by Antiochus; and Valerius Maximus aſcribes the honour of their reſtitution to Seleucus. Theſe contradictory accounts may be reconciled, if we recollect that many ſtatues were executed of theſe idolized martyrs to freedom; and as it is probable that ſeveral of theſe were carried out of their country by the Perſian plunderers, the honour of their reſtitution might of courſe be truly aſcribed to more than one victorious friend to the arts and monuments of Greece. Sculpture and Poetry ſeem to have vied with each other in their endeavours to immortalize theſe young tyrannicides. The Athenian ſong of Harmodius is proverbially famous; and its potent enthuſiaſm is thus forcibly deſcribed by our learned and eloquent Lowth, in his admirable Praelectiones:

Tam vehemens tamque animoſum poeſeos genus.... permultum habuiſſe momenti neceſſe eſt in hominum mentibus, cum ad omnem honeſtatem erigendis tum a ſcelere abſterrendis; maxime vero in fovendo et ſuſtentando illo vigore animi atque generoſa [...], quae libertatis et alumna eſt eadem et cuſtos. Num verendum erat ne quis tyrannidem Piſiſtratidarum Athenis inſtaurare auderet, ubi in omnibus conviviis, et aeque ab infima plebe in compitis, quotidie cantitaretur [...] illud Calliſtrati neſcio cujus, ſed ingenioſi certe poetae et valde boni civis .... Quod ſi poſt Idus illas Martias e tyrannoctonis [222] quiſpiam tale aliquod carmen plebi tradidiſſet, inque ſuburram, et fori circulos, et in ora vulgi intuliſſet, actum profecto fuiſſet de partibus deque denominatione Caeſarum; plus mehercule valuiſſet unum [...] quam Ciceronis Philippicae omnes. LOWTH, Praelectiones, edit. oct. p. 15.

To return to the brazen ſtatues.—They gave riſe to a very ſpirited but dangerous repartee of Antiphon; who being aſked by the tyrant Dionyſius what kind of braſs was eſteemed the beſt, replied, ‘That which forms the ſtatues of Harmodius and Ariſtogiton.’

Appendix A.2.16 NOTE XVI. Ver. 398. The future ſunſhine of a fairer hour.

Among the infinite number of intereſting perſonal anecdotes which the hiſtory of ancient ſculpture diſplays, there are hardly any more pleaſing to the fancy, or more calculated to exhibit the Grecian character in a favourable point of view, than the anecdotes preſerved by Pauſanias, concerning the Athenian women and their children, who having found a friendly refuge in the walls of Traezene, when the Perſian invaſion reduced them to the neceſſity of flying from their native city, had their ſtatues erected in a portico of the Traezenian Forum. I preſume that theſe ſtatues were a preſent from the people of Athens. They were ſuch memorials as every patriot of Greece muſt have contemplated with peculiar delight: they were graceful monuments of Grecian courage, benevolence, and gratitude, [223] The Traezenians probably took infinite pride in theſe public ornaments of their city, for they are deſcribed by Pauſanias as a people who delighted in every circumſtance that reflected honour on the ſpot they inhabited*.

END OF THE NOTES ON THE SECOND EPISTLE.

Appendix A.3 NOTES ON THE THIRD EPISTLE.

[]

Appendix A.3.1 NOTE I. Ver. 38. A THIRST for praiſe, and panting for the goal.

I follow the authority of Cicero, Vitruvius, and Quintilian in naming Myron as the earlieſt of the more accompliſhed Grecian ſculptors, who acquired infinite celebrity by making near approaches to perfection in their art. Pauſanias ſpeaks of Myron as an Athenian: but Pliny affirms that he was born at Eleutherae, (a city of Baeotia,) and a diſciple of Agelades, an artiſt of Argos. The Bacchus of Myron is ſaid by Pauſanias to have excelled all his other productions, except his ſtatue of Erectheus at Athens: but this very diligent artiſt appears to have executed many works of conſiderable excellence, and to have been moſt commended for what he probably regarded as a trifling performance. I allude to his famous heifer of braſs, celebrated by no leſs than thirty-ſix epigrams in the Greek Anthologia; upon which the French ſculptor [226] Falconet ſays, with ſome pleaſantry and ſome juſtice, ‘Les Atheniens étoient les François de la Grèce, et devoient faire autant de jolis vers ſur un vache que nous en avons faits ſur la chatte en ſculpture de Madame de Leſdiguières*.’

I ought, however, to obſerve, for the credit of Athens, that theſe epigrams are far from having been all produced by her citizens. They form, altogether, ſuch a heap of inſipid compliments as would not, I think, have appeared very flattering to an artiſt of Attic genius. The following, I believe, is one of the beſt of them:

[...].
[...]
[...].
Grotii Verſio.
Aut ſuperinducta eſt iſti cutis aenea vaccae,
Aut aes hoc animam, quae movet, intus habet.
Either this heifer has a brazen ſkin,
Or elſe the braſs contains a ſoul within.

Myron, whoſe Diſcobolos proved how ſucceſsfully he had ſtudied the human figure, could he have heard and underſtood the judicious language [227] in which Quintilian has mentioned that elaborate ſtatue*, would have been more gratified perhaps by the praiſe of the Latin critic than by all the Greek epigrams on his heifer. This remark cannot be extended to Pliny, who has deſcribed the works of Myron as rather deficient in expreſſion; an opinion which Falconet pronounces to be an egregious miſtake, if the antique head of Jupiter, that was ſtationed in the garden of Verſailles, and aſcribed to Myron, is in truth a performance of this celebrated artiſt. Though I am generally diſpoſed to take the part of Pliny againſt the pert malevolence with which the lively and keen Falconet has attacked and derided his opinions, I muſt confeſs that I think the reſpectable connoiſſeur of ancient Rome miſtaken in the preſent point; and his miſtake appears ſufficiently proved by the following animated Greek verſes on the Ladas of Myron, a ſtatue which, if the poet who deſcribes it may be truſted, was ſurely a maſterpiece of expreſſion:

[...].
[...]
[...],
[...]
[...].
[...]
[...].
[...]
[...].
[228]Grotii Verſio.
Qualis eras, Lada, fugiens veſtigia Thymi
Alipedis, premeres cum pede flabra tuo
Nobilis ad Piſae contendens praemia, talem
Corpore te toto fecit in aere Myron.
Implet eum ſpes quanta vides, et anhelitus ore
Cernitur ex imis ilibus exoriens.
Proſiliet mox aes ad ſerta, nec ipſa tenebit,
Credo, baſis; citus eſt ſpiritus, ars citior.
Anonymous, on a Foot-Racer.
Such as when foremoſt in the race you were,
And ſeem'd to bound upon the buoyant air;
Such, Ladas, here by Myron's ſkill you breathe,
Ardent in all your frame for Piſa's wreath!
The fervid ſpirit, from the heaving cheſt,
Shines in the lips. Where is not hope expreſs'd?
The braſs ſprings forward in the nimble ſtrife!
Oh, Art! more vivid than the breath of life*

[229]Myron, like other Greek artiſts indulged his fancy in ſome works of ſupernatural magnitude, and in ſome of extreme minuteneſs.

Strabo has recorded that the iſland of Samos contained three coloſſal divinities by Myron, on one baſis. Antony ſeized the whole groupe; but Auguſtus reſtored two of them, Hercules and Minerva, to their original ſtation; reſerving the third, a Jupiter, to adorn the Capitol*. As to the minuter works of Myron, Pliny has mentioned his monument of a graſshopper as celebrated in the verſes of the poeteſs Erinna; a luſus of art executed probably to pleaſe ſome fanciful fair to whom the ſculptor might be tenderly attached. The lovers of ſculpture muſt lament that an artiſt of ſuch merit and celebrity had the misfortune of ending his days in deplorable indigence; as Junius, with too much probability, ſuppoſes him to have done, from the following paſſage of Petronius Arbiter:

Myron, qui pene hominum animas ferarum que aere comprehenderat, non invenit haeredem.

Appendix A.3.2 NOTE II. Ver. 54. The Amazon of Phidias yields to thine.

Polycletus, who obtained this ſingular triumph, was a native of Sicyon, and a fellow-ſtudent with Myron under the ſame maſter, Agelades. We are indebted to Pliny for this intereſting account of a conteſt for pre-eminence in beauty among the ſculptured Amazons, executed by artiſts of different periods, and conſecrated in the temple of the Epheſian [230] Diana. He ſays that the artiſts who were preſent adjudged the point, by declaring which ſtatue each artiſt eſteemed as ſecond to his own: by this ingenious mode of deciſion Polycletus ranked as the firſt of the rival ſculptors, Phidias the ſecond, Cteſilas the third, Cydon the fourth, and Phragmon the fifth*. The modern French ſculptor Falconet exults in this anecdote, as a proof of his favourite maxim: ‘Que le peintre et le ſtatuaire ſont de meilleurs juges des productions de leur art, que le public même éclairé ſur d'autres matières.’

As to the general merit of Polycletus, the words of the intelligent Strabo give a very high idea of it, where he ſays that the ſtatues of this artiſt were in technical excellence moſt beautiful; but, in high finiſhing and magnificence, inferior to thoſe of Phidias.

Cicero has alſo mentioned the works of Polycletus as examples of perfection: ‘Nondum Myronis ſatis ad veritatem adducta, jam tamen quae non dubites pulchra dicere. Pulchriora etiam Polycleti, et jam plane perfecta, ut mihi quidem videri ſolet.’

In his orations againſt Verres, the Roman orator expatiates on the extreme beauty of two bronze figures, the celebrated Canephorae of Polycletus; and Winkelman, in his Monumenti inediti, (No. 182.) has engraved, from a bas-relief in terra-cotta, two Athenian virgins that he ſuppoſes to have been copied from theſe favourite ſtatues.

But the moſt conſiderable performance of Polycletus was his Juno of Argos, or rather of Mycenae, according to the local deſcription which Strabo has given of her temple. This admired ſtatue is deſcribed by [231] Pauſanias as a grand ſitting figure of ivory and gold, adorned with a crown, on which the Graces and the Hours were repreſented. The majeſtic image is alſo celebrated in the following Greek epigram:

[...].
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...].
Grotii Verſio.
Unus Junonem vidit Polycletus ab Argis,
Et nobis, quantum viderat, arte dedit.
Et decora oſtendit quae fas modo: caetera nam quae
Veſte latens, ſoli ſunt ea nota Jovi.
Parmenio, on the Statue of Juno.
The Argive Polyclete alone ſurvey'd
Juno, and ſuch as he beheld pourtray'd.
The charms that man might view his art expreſs'd:
No eyes but thoſe of Jove command the reſt.

The reputation of Polycletus ſeems to have been much extended by a Treatiſe on Proportion, illuſtrated by a ſtatue, regarded as a model of perfect ſymmetry, and ſaid to have been ſtudied as ſuch, in a later period, by Lyſippus. Many writers have mentioned this remarkable [232] ſtatue, but the moſt ſatisfactory account of it is contained in a paſſage of Galen, quoted by Junius, which expreſsly ſays that it was deſigned to confirm thoſe principles of art which the ſculptor taught in writing upon ſymmetry; and that both his treatiſe and his ſtatue were diſtinguiſhed by a common name, "The canon of Polycletus*." D'Hancarville, in the following paſſage, points out a mode of recovering the loſt theory of the Grecian artiſt:

Ces Commentaires de Polyclete, malheureuſement perdus aujourdhui, ayant été regardés autrefois comme la regle conſtamment ſuivie depuis ſon tems juſqu'à celui des Antonins, Menechme, Xenocrates, Apelles, qui vécurent dans cet intervalle, ayant compoſé différens ouvrages ſur les raiſons de l'art, on ne peut douter qu'il n'aient contenu les principes de Polyclete ſur les ſymmétries, et nous les y retrouverions ſi le tems n'eût pas détruit ces écrits. Mais comme à ſon imitation les plus habiles artiſtes de l'antiquité firent leurs ſtatues d'après les regles établies dans ſes livres nous pouvons retrouver dans les plus belles ſtatues antiques les proportions qu'il enſeignoit devoir y entrer, et juger, d'après ces proportions, ſur quoi ſe fondoit la théorie des principes renfermés dans les ouvrages des anciens ſur les ſymmetries et la beauté idèale.

The author purſues his idea in diſcuſſing proportions relating to the face, collected by Mengs, and cited by Winkelman, from the fineſt ſpecimens of ancient ſculpture. Into the minutiae of ſuch a diſcuſſion the intent of this work does not lead me to enter. He draws an inference from theſe reſearches which I confeſs myſelf unwilling to allow; for he ſays:

[233]Quand les anciens arrivèrent à la decouverte des proportions convenables à la beauté ideale, leur analogie avec les proportions harmoniques ſervit à prouver qu'ils avoient inconteſtablement atteint au but de l'art, et l'impoſſibilité de trouver une beauté ſupérieure à celle qui réſulta de ſes proportions, elle nous ſert maintenant à demontrer que l'art des Grecs ne peut eh aucun tems, ni en aucun lieu, ni par aucun moyen, être ſurpaſſé*.

With an enthuſiaſtic eſteem and admiration for the excellence of the Greeks in art and in literature, the moderns ought to cheriſh a perſuaſion that even that excellence, great as it is, may poſſibly be ſurpaſſed. Such an idea may be cenſured as preſumptuous: but in every arduous purſuit a degree of preſumption is the very ſource of ſucceſs. Reaſon and fancy may unite in refuſing to believe that, in cultivating the fine arts, any nation, or any individual has yet arrived at the utmoſt limits of attainable perfection. In ſculpture, indeed, it is not very probable that any modern artiſt, in any part of the globe, may poſſeſs all the advantages to lead him to excellence which the ſculptors of antiquity poſſeſſed; yet the modern may avail himſelf of ſome advantages to which the ancient was a ſtranger. But I forbear to enter on a topic which may be more properly diſcuſſed when modern art is the immediate ſubject before us.—I return to Polycletus.

Winkelman has ſtyled him a ſublime poet in his art; and he ſeems, indeed, to have enjoyed that rare mixture of induſtry, confidence, and imagination which is ſo favourable to felicity in the works of his profeſſion.

Aelian has related the following anecdote, to ſhew how ſucceſsfully he corrected the temerity of popular criticiſm:

[234]Polycletus executed two ſtatues at the ſame time; gratifying, in the one, the caprice of the crowd; in the other, adhering to the rules of art. He gratified the multitude in this manner: According to the ſuggeſtion of all his viſitors, he retouched and altered ſomething in conformity to the opinion of each. At laſt he produced his two figures; the one was univerſally admired; the other derided. "Yet this," ſaid Polycletus, "which you condemn, is your own work; and the other, which you admire, is mine*."

It is recorded of this excellent ſculptor, that he excelled alſo as an architect; and Pauſanias extols the temple of Aeſculapius, which he built for the Epidaurians, as ſurpaſſing, in harmonious beauty, all the magnificent ſtructures of the Romans. I ſhall cloſe my imperfect account of this accompliſhed artiſt with the Greek epigram on his ſtatue of Polyxena:

[...].
[...]
[...].
[...],
[...].
[...]
[...].
[235]Grotii Verſio.
Iſte tuus labor eſt, Polyclete, Polyxena, ſenſit
Non aliam felix iſta tabella manum.
Germanum Junonis opus; cerne ut ſibi prudens
Obducat rupta tegmina veſte pudor.
Pro vita facit illa preces, in virginis udis
Eſt oculis, quantum eſt de Phryge Marte ſuper.
Pollianus, on the Column of Polyxena.
Polyxena, by Polycletus wrought!
His hand alone this heavenly ſemblance caught.
A ſiſter to his Juno! Decent care
Hides the rent veſt that leaves her body bare.
Wretched, ſhe prays for life; and in her eyes
Lo Troy's whole war, and all its trouble, lies!

Appendix A.3.3 NOTE III. Ver. 141. That Athens was eclips'd by her Olympian fane.

The talents and reputation of Phidias were ſo great, that they are allowed to form the moſt honourable aera in the hiſtory of art. The Abbé Gedoyn has added to his hiſtory of Daedalus an account of this his moſt illuſtrious ſucceſſor, for the ſake of diſplaying at once, in the lives of theſe two memorable men, the commencement and the perfection of ſculpture. Athens had the honour of giving birth to them [236] both; for Phidias, by the authority of Plato, is proved to be an Athenian. He ſtudied under two maſters of no great celebrity, Agelas and Hippias: but he had the advantage of having two brothers diſtinguiſhed by their talents as painters, and the ſtill greater advantage of having cultivated and brought to maturity his own genius, at that fortunate period when the triumphant ſtate of his country, and the magnificent ſpirit of Pericles, afforded him a moſt favourable field for its exertion. With what patriotic pride and delight muſt an Attic ſculptor have exerted his powers in converting that very marble, which the Perſian invaders had brought with them to form a trophy of their conqueſt, into a memorial of their defeat! I allude to the Nemeſis of Phidias, a ſtatue executed under theſe animating circumſtances, according to Pauſanias, and ſtationed in a temple at Rhamnus, at the diſtance of ſixty ſtadia from Marathon—a ſtatue, celebrated in the following epigram:

[...].
[...]
[...]
[...],
[...].
[...],
[...],
[...],
[...].
[...]
[...].
[237]Grotii Verſio.
Me niveum vivâ lapidem de rupe cecidit,
Marmoream rumpens cuſpide duritiem,
Perſa, daret cum vela notis, ut fingeret ex me
De Cecropis victrix gente trophaea manus.
Cladibus at Marathon poſtquam reſonavit Eois,
Perque cruore rubens aequor iere rates,
Fecit Adraſteam de me gens fortis Athenae
Ulciſci ſolitam facta ſuperba deam.
Spes ego libratas teneo; Victoria nam ſum
Cecropidis, Nemeſis nec minus Aſſyriis.
Theaetetus, on the Rhamnuſian Statue of Nemeſis.
Of ſnowy whiteneſs, from a mountain rock,
A Median ſculptor in a maſſive block
Shipp'd me for Attica, and doom'd to ſtand
His mark of triumph o'er this Attic land:
But when at Marathon fall'n Perſia groan'd,
And for invaſion ſhatter'd ſhips aton'd,
By Attic Art (Perfection's nurſe) I roſe,
In form a goddeſs who the proud o'erthrows.
In different characters my figure ſpeaks:
To Perſians vengeance, victory to Greeks.
[238] [...].
[...],
[...].
[...]
[...].
Grotii Verſio.
Figere quan tumidus ſperabat Perſa trophaeum,
Quam bene nunc verſus ſum lapis in Nemeſim.
Sto dea juſta ſuper ripa Rhamnuſide, teſtis
Tam bene Erechtidas vincere quam ſapere.
Parmenio, on the ſame Statue.
From ſtone, that Perſians for their trophy choſe,
A ſeaſonable Nemeſis I roſe.
Here my juſt form this happy truth imparts:
Athenians triumph both in arms and arts.

Phidias is ſaid to have diſtinguiſhed himſelf by his general knowledge, and a perfect acquaintance with the laws of proportion, and the principles of optics.

That ſingular metrical compiler of anecdotes, Tzetzes, has related, in his Verſus Politici, a profeſſional conteſt between Phidias and Alcamenes, in which (if credit may be given to ſuch an hiſtorian) this admired [239] chief of Athenian ſculptors ran ſome danger of his life from the ignorance and irritability of his judges*.

The rival artiſts contended in forming a Minerva of bronze for the city. The moſt beautiful figure was to be choſen, and ſtationed on a lofty column. The two ſtatues were produced. That of Alcamenes was immediately admired for its delicacy; and the work of Phidias appeared ſo diſguſting to the people, from its open lips and diſtended noſtrils, that its author was in ſome danger of being ſtoned to death by popular indignation: but when the rival goddeſſes were raiſed to their intended height, Alcamenes became the jeſt, and Phidias the favourite of the people.

Such is the amuſing ſtory of Tzetzes. What degree of ſerious credit it may deſerve I leave to the judgment of my reader, and haſten to notice the two moſt celebrated works of Phidias; his more magnificent Minerva, ſtationed as the patroneſs of Athens in her temple called Parthenon; and the ſtatue extolled as the maſterpiece of antiquity, his Olympian Jupiter at Elis.

Pauſanias deſcribes this Minerva as an upright figure, with a garment deſcending to her feet. He does not mention her height; but M. de Caylus, from the expreſſion of Pliny, (cubitorum viginti ſex,) eſtimates it at thirty-nine feet, of the French meaſure. ‘The coſtly ſplendor of the ſtatue,’ ſays Winkelman, ‘may be conceived from the quantity of gold employed in its decoration. This, as we learn from a [240] ſpeech of Pericles preſerved in Thucydides, amounted to forty talents; the drapery was of gold, and the uncovered parts of the figure formed of ivory.’ The latter material was alſo employed in the head of Meduſa that appeared on the breaſt of the goddeſs, according to the deſcription of Pauſanias; and perhaps gold and ivory were united in the image of Victory of four cubits, that was placed in one of her hands; though its poſition is not aſcertained by Pauſanias, who only ſays that in her hand ſhe held a ſpear. But the ſmaller figure of Victory that was frequently added as a decoration to a coloſſal ſtatue, and diſplayed in the extended hand of the triumphant divinity, was ſometimes of ſolid gold, as we may conjecture from the profane jeſt of Dionyſius, the tyrant of Syracuſe, who, in ſtealing ſuch figures, ſaid it would be folly not to take from the gods what they appeared to offer.— But to return to the Minerva of Phidias. Pliny ſays that on the prominent ſide of her ſhield the battle of the Amazons was repreſented; and in the concave part, the conflict between the giants and the gods. Nay, even her ſandals were decorated, according to his account, with the battle of the Centaurs and the Lapithae.

M. de Caylus has ventured to criticiſe, with a becoming ſpirit, theſe minute decorations:

Après avoir remercié Pline de nous avoir conſervé ces details, qui ne ſe trouvent dans aucun autre auteur, on' me trouvëra ſans doute hardi, et peut-être temeraire, d'oſer deſapprouver ces petits ouvrages en eux-mêmes. Je ne doute pointe aſſurement de leur mérite et de leur perfection; mais je dirai franchement que ſans parler de l'interieur du bouclier, dont je laiſſe à juger pour la poſſibilité du coupd'oeil, ces beaux details étoient en pure perte; car il eſt conſtant qu'il n'auroit pas été poſſible de les diſtinguer, quand meme la figure auroit été de grandeur naturelle. Mais quoique le bouclier pût avoir dix pieds de diametre, on ne pouvoit examiner ſes ornemens aſſez [241] près, en quelque endroit qu'il ait été placé pour en juger ſainement ſur une figure d'environ quarante pieds de proportion, d'autant qu'elle étoit placée ſur un piédeſtal qui l'élevoit encore tout au moins de dix ou de quinze. Cette figure, pour être auſſi belle que toute l'antiquité l'a declarée, devoit être entendue et formée par de grandes maſſes, et ces maſſes devoient néceſſairement abſorber un auſſi grand nombre de petits details. Il faut convenir que les anciens paroiſſent les avoir aimés .... Cependant pour faire mieux entendre mon eſpèce de critique, je comparerai ces petits travaux à ceux d'un peintre, qui faiſant le portrait d'une femme auſſi grand que la nature, auroit grand ſoin de peindre en miniature un autre portrait qu'elle auroit au bras. Je demande ſi le travail et la diſpoſition du grand portrait ne feroient pas abſolument évanouir le mérite et l'ouvrage du braſſelet. Cependant il s'en faut beaucoup que la compariſon ſoit en proportion avec le point duquel je ſuis parti.

Cette ſtatue de Minerve preſente encore une difficulté, elle étoit d'or et d'yvoire, et elle avoit à ſes pieds un ſerpent et un ſphinx de bronze. Quel alliage de couleurs et de matières! on a peine à concevoir leur agrément.—

Memoires de l' Academie, tom. xxv. p. 319.

The ſculptor Falconet, who attacks, without mercy, the inaccuracies of Pliny, and is ſometimes rather petulantly ſevere on the reſpectable connoiſſeur of his own country whom I have juſt quoted, yet highly commends theſe remarks on the Minerva of Phidias. At the ſame time he makes a lively, but a raſh attempt, to vindicate the Athenian artiſt in the following conjecture:

Mais ſi Phidias n'a point fait ces petits ornemens; s'ils n'ont été ajoutés à ſa Minerve d'or et d'yvoire que pluſieurs années après la mort de l'auteur, que deviendra l'exactitude de Pline et de ceux qui le copient ſans regarder ailleurs?

[242]Pauſanias, l. i. c. 28. dit, 'Mis, excellent graveur, a répréſenté ſur le bouclier de la déeſſe le combat des Centaures et des Lapithes, et pluſieurs autres hiſtoires d'après les deſſeins de Parrhaſius, fils d'Evénor. Cette ſtatue eſt ſi haute, que l'aigrette du caſque et la pointe de la pique peuvent étre aperçues de Sunium.' C'eſt-à-dire de cinque lieues d'Athènes.

Le minutieux Pauſanias, qui ne fait grace de rien à ſon lecteur, parle ailleurs de la Minerve du Parthénon, qui étoit, comme on fait, dans la citadelle d'Athènes, et ne dit pas un mot de toute cette ciſelure, gravure, &c. dont Pline fait mention; details qu'il ne manque cependant jamais d'écrire, quand il en a l'occaſion. Ne ſe pourroit-il pas que les deux Minerves de Phidias euſſent été confondües dans la tête de l'ecrivain Latin, et qu'il eut attribué à l'une ce qui apartenoit à l'autre? Je ſuis loin de la vouloir aſſurer; mais j'aimerois mieux Pline avec un défaut de memoire, que Phidias avec un défaut de goût; cela ne ſe compare pas.

Ne ſeroit il pas poſſible encore, comme il eſt dit plus haut, qu'on eut chargé d'ornemens ſuperflus cette Minerve de Phidias quelques années après ſa mort, comme on avoit fait celle de bronze? Il ſeroit glorieux pour la memoire d'un artiſte célèbre, dont on nous dit le genie ſi grand, ſi ſublime, de ne pas le voir minutieux dans ſon art; ſur tout lorſque nous pouvons ſoupçonner quelques préſomptions du contraire.—

FALCONET, Traduction de Pline, tom. ii. p. 49.

This animated artiſt, who is often very acrimonious in cenſuring the inaccuracy of reſpectable writers on ſubjects relating to his own profeſſion, has fallen himſelf into conſiderable inaccuracies, in ſpeaking of this celebrated Minerva. I ſhall not enter into a minute diſcuſſion of theſe, but merely obſerve, that his conjecture concerning the figures on [243] the ſhield of the goddeſs is entirely overthrown by many paſſages from ancient authors collected by Junius to illuſtrate this ſtatue.

It was alleged as a crime againſt Phidias that he had introduced his own portrait and that of Pericles in the battle of the Amazons, which formed the moſt ſtriking ornament of the ſhield in queſtion; and Junius has cited a paſſage from Ariſtotle particularly remarkable, as it diſplays the ingenious ſolicitude of the ſculptor to preſerve his own figure from the malignity of any one who might wiſh to ſtrike it out of the group*.

Plutarch conſiders the baſe attempt to ruin Phidias in the eſteem of the Athenians as a political manoeuvre to try the public influence of his patron Pericles. We owe to that invaluable biographer the anecdote to which I have alluded in the Poem: I mean the friendly precaution of Pericles, by which he protected the ſculptor from the ſlanderous accuſation of having embezzled a part of the gold conſigned to him for the decoration of Minerva. By the advice of his illuſtrious friend, the artiſt is ſaid to have contrived the golden habiliments of the goddeſs in ſuch a manner that they might be eaſily removed, and his probity aſcertained by the infallible teſt of the ſcales.

The vindication of his innocence in this important article did not ſecure Phidias from the inſidious rancour of his enemies. He was accuſed of alluring the chaſte matrons of Athens to his houſe, under the pretence of ſhewing his ſtatues, for the diſhonourable purpoſe of gratifying the licentious paſſions of his patron. It has been ſaid that he [244] periſed in priſon, under the popular indignation which this calumny excited: but the indefatigable Meurſius has proved, by the authority of an old ſcholiaſt on Ariſtophanes, that the perſecuted artiſt eſcaped to Elis, and ended his days with honour in a ſcene which he is ſuppoſed to have adorned, in gratitude for the protection it afforded him, with the ſublimeſt work of ſculpture that was ever produced, even by Grecian talents—his Olympian Jupiter; an image which he conceived, according to his own ingenuous account, from Homer's deſcription of the god*.

I will not enlarge this long note by tranſcribing all the animated paſſages in ancient authors which allude to this moſt memorable ſtatue: but as it may gratify my reader to have an immediate opportunity of comparing my ſketch of it in rhyme with more minute deſcriptions in proſe, I will add the Greek original from Pauſanias, and a modern copy from the eloquent Travels of Anacharſis.

[...] [245] [...].—PAUSANIAS, p. 403. edit. Kuhnii.

La figure de Jupiter eſt en or et en ivoire, et quoique aſſiſe, elle s'élève preſque juſqu'au plafond du temple. De la main droite, elle tient une victoire également d'or et d'ivoire; de la gauche, un ſceptre travaillé avec goût, enrichi de diverſes eſpèces de métaux, et ſurmonté d'un aigle. La chauſſure eſt en or, ainſi que le manteau ſur lequel on a gravé des animaux, des fleurs, et ſur-tout des lis.

[246]Le trône porte ſur quatre pieds, ainſi que ſur des colonnes intermédiaires de même hauteur. Les matières les plus riches, les arts les plus nobles concoururent à l'embellir. Il eſt tout brillant d'or, d'ivoire, d'ébène, et de pierres précieuſes, par tout décoré de peintures et des bas-reliefs.

Quatre de ces bas-reliefs ſont appliqués ſur la face antérieure de chacun des pieds de devant. Le plus haut repréſente quatre Victoires dans l'attitude de danſeuſes; le ſecond, des ſphinx, qui enlèvent les enfans de Thébains; le troiſième, Apollon et Diane perçant de leurs traits les enfans de Niobé le dernier enfin, deux autres Victoires.

Phidias profita des moindres eſpaces pour multiplier les ornemens. Sur les quatre traverſes qui lient les pieds du trône, je comptai trente ſept figures; les unes repreſentant des lutteurs, les autres le combat d'Hercule contre les Amazones. Au deſſus de la tête de Jupiter, dans la partie ſupérieure du trône, on voit d'une côté les trois Graces qu'il eut d'Eurynome, et les trois Saiſons qu'il eut de Thémis. On diſtingue quantité d'autres bas-reliefs, tant ſur le marche-pied que ſur la baſe ou l'eſtrade qui ſoutient cette maſſe énorme; la plupart exécutés en or, et repréſentant les divinités de l'Olympe. Aux pieds de Jupiter on lit cette inſcription: ‘Je ſuis l'ouvrage de Phidias, Athenien, fils de Charmidès. Voyage du Jeune Anacharſis, tome iii. p. 482.

The dimenſions of this wonderful ſtatue (which Callimachus is ſaid to have expreſſed in Iambic verſe) are not preſerved: but from a paſſage in Strabo, which repreſents the head of the ſitting figure as near the roof of the temple, (in height ſixty feet,) we are enabled to form ſome conjectures concerning its magnitude. Falconet ſuppoſes that the temple and the ſtatue were wretchedly diſproportioned to each other: [247] but the general voice of antiquity, in praiſe of the very ſublime effect which this ſpectacle altogether produced, is ſufficient to refute his ſuppoſition. Livy deſcribes this effect very forcibly, in ſpeaking of Paulus Aemilius: ‘Olympiam aſcendit, ubi et alia quidem ſpectanda viſa, et Jovem velut praeſentem intuens, motus animo eſt*.’

Cedrenus affirms that the ivory Jupiter of Phidias was preſerved at Conſtantinople; and, if we may credit an author ſo frequently erroneous, the ſame city contained alſo a reclining Jupiter in marble, by this illuſtrious artiſt.

But it is time to take leave of Phidias.—Let me firſt obſerve that he ſometimes uſed the pencil as well as the implements of ſculpture, and painted a portrait of his kind and powerful friend Pericles, diſtinguiſhed by his lofty title "the Olympian."

Cum et Phidiam ipſum initio pictorem fuiſſe tradatur, Olympiumque Athenis ab eo pictum.—PLIN. lib. 35.

Pliny mentions a portrait of Pericles in bronze, (by the ſculptor Cteſilaus,) with the fame appellation: ‘Cteſilaus (fecit) Periclem Olmypium dignum cognomine.’ Many artiſts were undoubtedly patronized by this magnificent ſtateſman: but Phidias was his favourite, and entruſted with the ſuperintendance of thoſe ſplendid public works with which the liberal ambition of Pericles delighted to decorate his country.

Appendix A.3.4 NOTE IV. Ver. 170. Her ſhame his pride, her ornaments his prey.

[248]

How deplorable was the fate of Athens, repeatedly the captive of two, the moſt artful, ſanguinary, and impious wretches that diſhonoured the liſt of ancient heroes—Lyſander and Sylla! Both theſe barbarous conquerors had a paſſion for ſculpture; ſo great was the influence of that powerful art over the ſterneſt ſpirits of antiquity! Plutarch informs us, that after Lyſander had taken Athens, he devoted a part of his ſpoil to the expence of raiſing his own ſtatue, and thoſe of his officers, at Delphi. Yet ſo truly ſavage was this deteſtable victor, that Plutarch rather ſeems to believe the report he mentions of Lyſander's having propoſed, in the council of the allies, to reduce the Athenians to ſlavery. A Theban officer, according to the ſame authority, propoſed the utter demolition of the city; and Athens is ſaid to have been ſaved by the happy voice of a Phocenſian, who ſung to the conquerors, at a banquet, a few verſes from a tragedy of Euripides, which awakened their humanity, and made them ſhrink from their horrible purpoſe of annihilating a city ſo admirable, and the parent of men ſo illuſtrious.

Milton alludes to this incident in the cloſe of his 8th Sonnet:

— and the repeated air
Of ſad Electra's poet had the power
To ſave th' Athenian walls from ruin bare.

Appendix A.3.5 NOTE V. Ver. 192. And to new ſons new excellence aſſign'd.

[249]

Sculpture is aſſuredly one of the moſt difficult of the fine arts; yet it is a ſtriking truth that Greece produced ſeveral ſculptors of the firſt rate, though ſhe could only boaſt a ſingle Homer. It is alſo remarkable, that the Grecian ſculptors were more numerous than the painters of their country. That intelligent and contemplative obſerver of antiquity, M. de Caylus, has had the curioſity to compare their reſpective numbers, as far as the narratives of Pauſanias and Pliny enabled him to make the compariſon. Of the former he ſays: ‘Il ne fait mention que de quinze peintres, tandis qu'il diſtingue de la manière la plus claire cent ſoixante et neuf ſculpteurs. Il faut cependant convenir que Pline fait mention de cent trente-trois peintres Grecs, bons ou médiocres..... On pourroic repondre pour concilier les deux auteurs, que Pline a parlé de tous les peintres de la Grèce, de l'Aſie Mineure, de la Sicile, et de ce que l'on appelloit la grande Grèce, &c. et que Pauſanias n'a pas même viſité toute la Grèce proprement dite, qu'il n'écrivoit point l'hiſtoire des artiſtes, et qu'il parloit ſeulement de ceux dont il avoit vû les ouvrages; ouvrages dont le nombre étoit encore diminué, par l'avidité des Romains, qui dévaſtoient ce pays depuis environs quatre-vingt ans; à compter le tems qui s'étoit écoulé depuis Pline juſqu'à lui.’

Il reſultera toujours de ce calcul, qu'il y avoit plus de ſtatues que de tableaux dans la Grèce.—Antiquités, tom. ii. p. 109.

Of all the arts in which they excelled, ſculpture ſeems, indeed, to have been the prime favourite of the Greeks; and to the national enthuſiaſm [250] in its favour the Grecian ſtatues are principally indebted for their exquiſite perfection.

Ver. 206. Records her ſorrow, and preſerves her fame.

Scopas, a native of Paros, is mentioned by Pliny as a contemporary with Myron and Polycletus, in the 87th Olympiad. He is repreſented alſo, by the ſame author, and by Vitruvius, as one of the eminent artiſts employed by the magnificent Artemiſia in decorating the monument of her huſband Mauſolus.

But as a ſculptor, who lived ſo early, could hardly have been living at the time when that ſumptuous monument was raiſed, Winkelman conjectures that more than one artiſt was diſtinguiſhed by the name of Scopas. It ſeems rather more probable that Pliny was miſtaken in the period he aſſigned to this admirable ſculptor; and indeed the chronology of almoſt all the ancient artiſts, and their moſt memorable works, is ſo full of perplexities and contradiction, that miſtakes of this kind are almoſt unavoidable in a curſory view of their productions.

The works of Scopas ſeem to have been full of fancy and feeling; yet it is not eaſy to form an exact idea of his three ſtatues, repreſenting the variations of Love, as they are briefly deſcribed by Pauſanias*.

Pliny has enumerated many works of Scopas, that held, in the period when he wrote, a very high rank among the ſculptural decorations [251] of Rome. The Palatine Apollo, a ſitting Veſta with two female attendants, and a collection of marine divinities, which, according to the lively expreſſion of the enthuſiaſtic Pliny, might be termed a glorious performance, if it had employed the whole life of the artiſt*.

M. de Caylus imagines that theſe Nereids, riding on their ſea-horſes, were executed in bas-relief. Falconet is of a different opinion. It is, however, probable that they were ſo, and that they are ſtill preſerved.

I have ſeen admirable ſketches of ſuch Nereids as anſwer to Pliny's deſcription, executed at Rome by Mr. Howard, an Engliſh artiſt, who has the rare talent of drawing from ſculpture with ſuch preciſion and delicacy, that England may ſoon ſurpaſs other countries in a juſt and graceful repreſentation of thoſe ancient ſtatues which her men of fortune and taſte have collected; eſpecially as the Dilettanti Society have judiciouſly confided to this artiſt the conduct of ſuch a work, peculiarly calculated to diſplay his abilities, and to reflect an honour on their own inſtitution. It is much to be lamented, that almoſt all the prints, deſigned to illuſtrate the many voluminous and coſtly books upon ſculpture, are rather caricatures of ancient art, than a faithful copy of its perfections.

But to return to the ancient artiſt whoſe works are the immediate ſubject of this note.—Pliny has very highly praiſed a Venus by Scopas, and is ſuppoſed to have ſaid that it excelled the Gnidian Venus of Praxiteles, which he had juſt celebrated as the moſt beautiful ſtatue to be found on earth. Falconet, with his uſual petulance, derides Pliny for ſo groſs a contradiction; and even his liberal friend and admirer, M. de Caylus, laments this ſtriking inconſiſtency. Let me hazard [252] what appears to me a probable conjecture, to ſave the credit of an author to whom the lovers of art have infinite obligation. I am perſuaded that all the blame which Pliny has incurred for this ſuppoſed contradiction aroſe ſolely from a ſlip of the pen in the original manuſcript: but to elucidate the point, I muſt tranſcribe the paſſage as it ſtands, and add the new reading I wiſh to introduce: ‘Praeterea Venus in eodem loco nuda Praxitelicam illam Gnidiam antecedens, et quemcunque alium locum nobilitatura.’—According to the preſent reading, there is not only a contradiction of what he had juſt aſſerted concerning the pre-eminence of the Gnidian ſtatue, but the latter part of the ſentence has little or no meaning. By the following ſlight change in the orthography the abſurd contradiction will be utterly removed, and a ſignificant ſpirit will appear in the cloſe of the ſentence: ‘Praeterea Venus in eodem loco nuda Praxitelicam illam Gnidi non antecedens, at quemcunque alium locum nobilitatura.’‘A naked Venus, not ſurpaſſing, indeed, that of Praxiteles at Gnidos, but ſuch as would ennoble any other place.’

Pliny mentions it as a doubt, in his age, whether the Niobe at Rome is the work of Praxiteles or of Scopas. M. de Caylus makes a pleaſant remark on the modeſty of the Roman author, and recommends it as a leſſon to modern connoiſſeurs:

On doit lui ſavoir gré de l'aveu de ſon ignorance ſur le nom des auteurs des ouvrages, qui decoroient la ville de Rome. Il donne en ce cas une leçon à tous les curieux preſens et à venir, dont la déciſion eſt pour l'ordinaire imperieuſe et ſans appel.—Mem. de l'Academie, tom. xxv. p. 322.

Among the impaſſioned works of Scopas, his Bacchanal was particularly admired. Junius, in his account of this artiſt, has inſerted two Greek epigrams from the Anthologia, in praiſe of the figure to which I allude: but there is a third epigram, by Paulus Silentiarius, [253] (one of the beſt among the late writers in that motley collection!) which was probably compoſed on the ſame ſtatue, and which I prefer to the two epigrams cited by Junius. It runs thus:

[...].
[...]
[...].

This Bacchanal grew wild by art alone,
Art, that infus'd delirium in the ſtone!

There is a very pompous eulogy on the Bacchanal of Scopas in that ſingular little work, Deſcriptions of Fourteen Ancient Statues, in Greek proſe, by Calliſtratus. It is ſurpriſing that two ſuch ſcholars as Meurſius and Olearius could ſuppoſe theſe deſcriptions to be written by the very Calliſtratus whom Demoſthenes attended, with delight, as his maſter in eloquence. They rather ſeem the production of ſome trifling and declamatory ſophiſt, of a much later period. The deſcription of the Bacchanal cloſes, however, with a high compliment to the genius of Scopas; as it aſſerts that his ſculpture diſplayed that ſort of energy and ſpirit which characteriſed the orations of Demoſthenes. Olearius, who publiſhed Calliſtratus in his excellent edition of the two Philoſtrati, ſuppoſes this compariſon of the ſculptor with the orator to have been added to the original deſcription by ſome later hand. As it is peculiarly [254] honourable to Scopas, I will tranſcribe it at the bottom of the page*.

This eminent artiſt, like his predeceſſor Phidias, and many of the Greeks, was doubly diſtinguiſhed as an architect and a ſculptor. Perhaps he was employed in both capacities on the magnificent tomb of Mauſolus, a work celebrated by many writers of antiquity as one of the ſeven wonders of the world, and ingeniouſly illuſtrated by M. de Caylus, in a diſſertation on its form and dimenſions, which the curious reader may find in the Memoirs of the French Academy. Five artiſts of diſtinction were engaged in this ſtupendous ſtructure, which roſe to the height of an hundred and forty feet, including what crowned the ſummit—a triumphal chariot of marble! The columns that ſurrounded the lower part of the fabric amounted to thirty-ſix, compriſing its four fronts. Thoſe to the ſouth and north were more extenſive than the other two. The eaſtern aſpect was aſſigned to the conduct of Scopas. The monument is doubly remarkable as a work of magnificent expenſe and of genuine affection. The fair ſovereign of Caria was ſo ſincere a mourner, that ſhe is ſaid to have died literally of grief for the loſt Mauſolus before his ſumptuous monument could be completed. She had, however, ſufficient energy of character to act as a heroine after his deceaſe; and Vitruvius records an anecdote of her proweſs which I am induced to mention, as it ſhews, in a very forcible light, the veneration paid by the ancients to the ſtatues erected under the auſpices of Victory.

The Rhodians, who were ſubject to Mauſolus, rebelled againſt his widow Artemiſia. The indignant queen, by a very bold ſtratagem, took poſſeſſion of their city, and raiſed in it, as a trophy of her conqueſt, [255] two ſtatues of braſs; her own figure, and another repreſenting Rhodes ſubmitting to her authority. "The Rhodians," ſays Vitruvius, ‘were prevented, by their religion, from removing thoſe ſtatues: but they built around them, to conceal from the view of the public memorials of their diſgrace*.’

Demoſthenes, in his fine oration in favour of the Rhodians, intimates that Artemiſia would not oppoſe ſuch efforts as Athens might honourably make to reſtore the liberty of Rhodes.

There is a medal of this affectionate heroine, with the Mauſoleum, but it is a counterfeit, as I learn from the inſtructive and entertaining Eſſay on Medals by Mr. Pinkerton: a writer equally admirable for depth of reſearch and vivacity of deſcription.

Appendix A.3.6 NOTE VI. Ver. 240. And Cupid, ſoon her own, repays the fond device.

Praxiteles, who is mentioned by Pliny as flouriſhing with his brother artiſt Euphranor, in the 104th Olympiad, aroſe to the higheſt diſtinction for the impaſſioned delicacy of his works, both in braſs and marble, but particularly in marble. The rank he held in the public eſteem is evident from the petty anecdote recorded in Phaedrus, that thoſe who had delicate pieces of ſculpture to ſell, enhanced the price of them by eraſing [256] the name of Myron, and inſerting that of Praxiteles in its place*. Pliny, who has enumerated many productions of Praxiteles, celebrates his Gnidian Venus as the moſt perfect image of beauty that ſculpture ever produced; and relates ſome amuſing incidents in proof of its perfection, particularly an offer made to the inhabitants of Gnidos, by the king Nicomedes, who was deſirous of purchaſing this admired ſtatue on the liberal terms of paying the heavy public debt of their iſland. They choſe rather to ſtruggle with any difficulties than to relinquiſh a work of art with which Praxiteles had ennobled their country. The ſtatue was ſtationed in a ſmall open temple, that the form of the goddeſs might be viſible in every direction; and it was eſteemed admirable in every point of view . Univerſal admiration gave birth to ſeveral Greek epigrams on this exquiſite ſtatue. I have ſelected the two following from the Anthologia:

[257] [...].
[...];
[...];
[...]
[...].
Grotii Verſio.
Quis lapidi ſpirare dedit? Quis Cyprida vidit
In terris? Quantum marmor amoris habet!
Praxitelis manus eſt! Venere, ut puto, regia coeli
Jam caret, ad Gnidios venit ut ipſa Venus.
Who gave the ſtone a ſoul? Say, who has ſeen,
And of this marble made Affection's queen?
Praxiteles! thy work makes Heaven appear
Now deſolate, and Venus only here.
[...].
[...],
[...].
[258]Grotii Verſio.
Alma Venus, tibi ſacro tuam ſub imagine formam;
Pulchrius hac potuit nil tibi, diva, dari.
Venus! to thee I rais'd thy form divine,
Convinc'd no offering can thy form outſhine.

The glory that Praxiteles acquired from the excellence of his Venus was increaſed by the felicity with which he executed more than one ſtatue of Cupid. The orations of Cicero againſt Verres have given celebrity to the marble Cupid, which the orator repreſents as a rival to one ſtill more famous, by the ſame artiſt, that formed the pride and the wealth of the Theſpians—a ſtatue ſpared by Mummius, when he plundered the cities of Greece. The rapacious Verres had robbed an ingenious and friendly Sicilian of a ſimilar exquiſite and invaluable work of art, which Cicero deſcribes as the production of Praxiteles. It is remarkable that the Roman orator ſpeaks with ſingular modeſty, on this occaſion, of his own knowledge as a connoiſſeur: ‘Marmoreum Praxitelis, (nimirum didici etiam, dum in iſtum inquiro, artificum nomina.’) The rapacity of the infamous governor had indeed amaſſed ſuch a collection of ſculpture, that an examination of his plunder was almoſt ſufficient to form a Roman connoiſſeur. The curious reader may find this collection agreeably illuſtrated in a Diſſertation by the Abbé Fraguier, inſerted in the Memoires of the French Academy, and intitled "The Gallery of Verres."

The happieſt of Cicero's repartees alluded to a ſtatue of this collection, a very valuable ſphinx of bronze, which formed a part of the powerful [259] extortioner's Sicilian plunder. Verres had beſtowed it, as a retaining fee, on his advocate, the celebrated orator Hortenſius, who had a ſtrong paſſion for works of art. In the courſe of the pleadings, Hortenſius happened to ſay to his antagoniſt, ‘I do not underſtand theſe riddles!’—"But you ought," replied Cicero; ‘for you have the ſphinx at home*.’

To return to the Cupid of Praxiteles.—The ſculptor Falconet has cenſured his countryman, M. de Jaucourt, for inſerting in the French Encyclopedia an anecdote relating to this celebrated ſtatue, told on the authority of the preſident de Thou. The ſtory ſays that the Marchioneſs of Mantua poſſeſſed, in the year 1573, the Cupid of Praxiteles, and the ſleeping Cupid of Michael Angelo; and that de Thou, with other gueſts of the Marchioneſs, were charmed with the work of the modern artiſt, till they compared it with a ſuperior work of antiquity that ſeemed to annihilate its merit. The ſtory is certainly improbable in many points of view; and Falconet exults in producing what he conſiders as a proof that the fact was impoſſible: I mean, the teſtimony of Pauſanias, declaring that the famous Cupid of Praxiteles, a ſtatue of marble, and the idol of the Theſpians, periſhed (after a variety of adventures) in a fire at Rome. The evidence of Pauſanias ſufficiently proves, indeed, the fate of the Theſpian ſtatue, but it does not amount to a proof that it was impoſſible for the Marchioneſs of Mantua to poſſeſs a Cupid executed by Praxiteles; becauſe we have already ſeen that there exiſted two marble Cupids of acknowledged beauty, by this illuſtrious ſculptor; and among the ſtatues deſcribed by Calliſtratus, two Cupids, by the ſame artiſt, in bronze, are celebrated as works of exquiſite [260] perfection. On one of theſe, perhaps, the following epigram was written; though Junius imagined that it was compoſed on the Theſpian Cupid, and that the poet had taken the liberty to turn the marble into braſs:

[...].
[...]
[...].
[...]
[...].
[...]
[...].
Grotii Verſio.
Praxiteles famulante manu me fecit Amorem,
Sub pedibus preſſus colla ſuperba meis;
Fecit ut, in venis quem ſenſit, aheneus eſſem,
Ut Phrynae donum me daret ipſe ſuae:
Illa datum tibi rurſus, Amor, ſacravit Amori,
Namque dari dignum munus amantis Amor.
Julian, the Aegyptian Prefect, on the Cupid of Praxiteles.
Praxiteles, proud ſlave of my command,
Thus form'd my ſtatue with his fetter'd hand.
[261]Me, couch'd within him, he in bronze portray'd
For Phryne, who with love the gift repaid.
She made her captive mine. To hearts that burn,
Love is for Love the only juſt return.

That curious collector of amorous anecdotes, Athenaeus, relates that Praxiteles gave Phryne the choice of his two admired ſtatues, Cupid and a Satyr. The lively device by which ſhe is ſaid to have obtained the Cupid I have deſcribed, with a little variation, from Pauſanias:

[...].—PAUSANIAS, p. 46.

This highly-admired ſculptor had the happineſs of training his ſon Cephiſſodorus to conſiderable excellence in his own profeſſion. That pleaſing and accurate writer, the Abbé Guaſco, has fallen, I think, into a little miſtake concerning this ſon of Praxiteles, whom he repreſents as purſuing the art of his father, without inheriting his talents. The words of Pliny, who mentions ſeveral ſtatues executed by this eminent ſon, of a father ſtill more eminent, may rather lead us to think that the genius as well as the property of his parent deſcended to the filial artiſt*.

[262]I cannot quit Praxiteles without obſerving, that at the magnificent funeral of Michael Angelo an imaginary portrait of the Grecian ſculptor was introduced among the various decorations of that ſolemn ſpectacle, and diſtinguiſhed by his favourite ſtatue of the Satyr. "Era un quadro," (ſays Vaſari, in deſcribing theſe decorations,) ‘alto braccia ſei, e lungo otto, nel quale con nuova, e quaſi poetica invenzione era Michel Agnolo in mezzo, come giunto ne campi Eliſi, dove gli erano da man deſtra, aſſai maggiori che il naturale, i piu famoſi, e que' tanto celebrati pittori e ſcultori antichi. Ciaſcuno de quali ſi conoſceva a qualche notabile ſegno. Praſſitele al ſatiro, che è nella vigna di Papa Giulio III.—VASARI Vita di M. Bonarroti, p. 339. edit, di Bottari.

Appendix A.3.7 NOTE VII. Ver. 246. In glory's car he ſeated Philip's ſon.

Quintilian ſpeaks highly of Euphranor, as an artiſt univerſally accompliſhed*; and Pliny commends him for many excellencies, particularly for giving peculiar dignity to the character of his heroes. He ſeems to have been equally diſtinguiſhed by genius and application, as he excelled in the two arts of ſtatuary and painting, and wrote upon ſymmetry and colours. One of his memorable pictures was the Battle [263] of Mantinea. In the liſt of his ſtatues Pliny mentions a Paris, of admirable expreſſion; two coloſſal images of Virtue and of Greece; and triumphal figures of Alexander and Philip*.

Appendix A.3.8 NOTE VIII. Ver. 265. Lyſippus might have wiſh'd his works to reſt.

Lyſippus was one of the happy few whom an extraordinary combination of genius, induſtry, and good fortune has exalted from an humble, unpromiſing origin, to the ſummit of excellence and honour. He was a native of Sicyon, and at firſt a common artizan: but having talents for deſign, and being inſtructed, probably, by the eminent painter Eupompus, he roſe to the higheſt diſtinction as a ſculptor. Propertius has ſimply and happily expreſſed his peculiar merit and his great celebrity in a ſingle verſe: ‘Gloria Lyſippo eſt animoſa effingere ſigna.’

His works were particularly admired for truth and energy of character; and the period in which he flouriſhed (the 114th Olympiad) afforded him a moſt favourable field for the utmoſt exertion of his talents. The number of his works is a noble proof of his indefatigable [264] application. They amounted to ſix hundred and ten, according to the moſt moderate of the two accounts that different copies of Pliny exhibit. Even this number has rather a marvellous ſound: but the following intelligent remarks of M. de Caylus, on this ſubject, are ſufficient to ſatisfy readers, not familiar with the proceſs of this admirable art, that the multitude of bronzes aſcribed to Lyſippus is far from exceeding the limits of credibility; though Pliny has mentioned them in ſuch terms as might produce, without the explanation of experience, only incredulous aſtoniſhment.

Le nombre des ouvrages des fondeurs en particulier, ſelon Pline, eſt inconcevable. On aſſure que le ſeul Lyſippe en fit ſix cens dix morceaux, qui tous auroient rendu célèbre celui qui n'en auroit fait qu'un-ſeul. Il fût aiſé de ſavoir leur nombre, car il avoit coûtume de mettre à part un denier d'or quand il en avoit produit un nouveau, et ſon heritier en fit le calcul après ſa mort.

Pline ne pouvoit rien dire de plus fort que d'ajoûter, ſur le detail de ces morceaux, 'Tantae omnia artis, ut claritatem poſſent dare vel ſingula.'

C'eſt preſenter, ce me ſemble, avec trop d'apparat la choſe la plus ſimple, et dont le détail méritoit le moins d'être rélevé heureuſement la ſeule pratique de l'art peut nous en donner l'intelligence, et même ſans faire tort au mérite de Lyſippe, en faveur de qui tout le monde eſt prévenu, par les eloges de l'antiquité, et par l'approbation et le choix d'Alexandre le Grand, dont il étoit contemporain. Cependant l'explication de ce paſſage me paroit néceſſaire pour concilier toutes les idées; d'autant que ceux qui voudroient s'en tenir au texte ſimple croiroient ne devoir en rien rabattre, puiſque les preuves de fait ſont jointes à une deſcription qui tient non ſeulement du merveilleux, mais qui répond aux grandes idées que l'on a des anciens; perſonne ne les admet plus que moi, mais elles demandent [265] des diſtinctions. D'un autre côté les artiſtes et les amateurs des arts commenceroient par réjeter fort loin le fait, et ils le regarderoient comme impoſſible; car il faut convenir que Pline paroit, au premier abord, s'être mis ici dans le danger de ceux qui veulent trop prouver.

S'il étoit queſtion, dans ce calcul, des ouvrages de Lyſippe des ſtatues de marbre, et même de figures de bronze de grandeur naturelle, ou faites chacune ſur différens modèles (quoiqu'il en ait produit pluſieurs de ce genre) le nombre de ſix cens dix morceaux de la main d'un ſeul artiſte, ne ſeroit ni poſſible, ni vrai-ſemblable; la connoiſſance des arts, et leur marche dans l'exécution, vont heureuſement ſervir à lever tous nos doutes.

Quand la pratique de la fonte eſt familière à un artiſt, et qu'il a ſous ſes ordres des gens capables de l'aider, les ouvrages ſe multiplient en peu de tems: l'artiſte n'a proprement beſoin que de faire des modèles en terre ou en cire, manoeuvre que l'on ſait être auſſi prompte que facile. Le moule, la fonte et le ſoin de réparer, ſont des operations qui ne demandent point la main du maître; et cependant la figure n'eſt pas moins regardée comme ſon ouvrage. Ajoûtons à ces facilités que l'on peut jeter un très-grande nombre de figures dans le même moule, et ſans doute que toutes les fois qu'il en ſortoit une de ſon fourneau, Lyſippe s'étoit impoſé la loi de mettre à part un denier d'or, dont le nombre accumulé ſervit après ſa mort à ſupputer la quantité de figures fondues dans ſon attelier. Il n'eût pas été difficile à Jean de Boulogne d'en faire autant de nos jours; et peut-être que ſi l'on comptoit le nombre de petites figures qu'il a produites de cette façon, on n'en trouveroit guère moins de ſix cens dix, indépendamment des grandes figures équeſtres, et des autres ſtatues ou bas-réliefs dont il a fait les modèles, et à la fonte deſquels il a préſidé.

M. de CAYLUS, Memoires de l' Academie, &c tom. xxv. p. 336.

[266]This illuſtrious connoiſſeur proceeds to ſhew the delight which the ancients took in ſmall ſtatues of bronze. I ſhall ſoon introduce to my reader a Roman poet's deſcription of the moſt memorable image of this kind, executed by Lyſippus: but I will firſt notice a few of his moſt remarkable productions, on a larger ſcale.

The city of Tarentum was decorated with two coloſſal divinities by Lyſippus,—a Jupiter and a Hercules. When Fabius Maximus made himſelf maſter of the place, he ſaid, (according to Plutarch,) "Let us leave to the Tarentines their angry gods;" and he left them their lofty Jupiter; influenced, moſt probably, more by the difficulty of removing a ſtatue, whoſe height exceeded forty cubits*, than by his devotional ideas; for he carried off the Hercules, a Coloſſus of inferior bulk, to place it in the Capitol; and Plutarch cenſures this wary Roman for being more rapacious in Tarentum than Marcellus was in Syracuſe.

Rome poſſeſſed another work of Lyſippus particularly memorable, as it diſcovers the lively intereſt which the Roman people took in theſe Grecian ornaments of their city. The ſtatue I allude to repreſented a man rubbing himſelf after the uſe of the bath. It had been ſtationed, with the uſual ſolemnities, before the baths of Agrippa: but as it happened to delight the fancy of Tiberius, that ſubtle and cautious emperor was raſh enough to remove it to his own chamber. The people demanded, by loud clamours in the theatre, that the ſtatue ſhould be reſtored to its proper place; and the ſovereign ſubmitted to its reſtoration. The hiſtory of ſtatues is particularly intereſting, as it illuſtrates [267] the manners and the feelings of the ancient world. What a portrait does this anecdote exhibit of the Roman people, who could clamorouſly ſolicit and obtain the reſtoration of a public ſtatue, a ſimple foreign figure, when they had not courage or virtue enough left to vindicate their liberty againſt this timid, licentious, and deſpicable tyrant!

But to return to Lyſippus. The work which was probably his own favourite performance, I mean his equeſtrian ſtatues of Alexander and the guardian attendants of that idolized monarch, were tranſported to Rome after the Roman conqueſt of Macedonia, and adorned the Portico of Metellus*.

The Anthologia contains more than one epigram on the portrait of Alexander by Lyſippus. The following appears to be the beſt:

[...].
[...]
[...];
[...],
[...].
[268]Grotii Verſio.
Aequat Alexandri vultumque animumque ferocem
Lyſippus: tantum poſſe quis aera putet?
Aereus iſte Jovem ſpectans clamare videtur,
Subdo mihi terras, tu, pater, aſtra tene.
Archelaus, or (according to others) Aeſclepiades, on the Statue of Alexander.
All Alexander's powers of form and mind,
Thy ſkill, Lyſippus! in this braſs enſhrin'd:
The bronze exclaims, with Heaven-directed eyes,
"Earth is my empire, Jove! Rule thou the ſkies!"

Plutarch, in one of his Moral Treatiſes, has cited, with ſome applauſe, the two laſt lines of this epigram; and a very elegant, accompliſhed writer of our own country, Mr. Webb, has inſerted a tranſlation of them in his 7th Dialogue on the Beauties of Painting: but I think he has made the ſuppoſed ſpeech of the hero rather more diſreſpectful to Jupiter than the Greek poet intended. I will give my reader an immediate opportunity of correcting me, if I am wrong in this ſuppoſition, by tranſcribing the couplet to which I allude:

Let us divide, O Jove! the conqueror cries:
I, lord of earth! thou, tyrant of the ſkies!
WEBB, p. 172. edit. 1769.

[269]We are indebted to Plutarch for the intereſting anecdote concerning the juſt reproof of Lyſippus to his brother artiſt Apelles*. The character of this great ſtatuary appears to have been ſo noble, that his life was probably as worthy of being recorded for its virtues, as his productions were for their fidelity to truth and nature: yet, to our regret, we can know but very little of his perſonal hiſtory, and of his numerous invaluable works. The two eminent antiquarians, Winkelman and Caylus, have ſuppoſed that not a ſingle fragment remains. D'Hancarville is inclined to believe that a buſt of Bacchus, preſerved at Portici, is a real work of this exquiſite artiſt; and his reaſons for thinking ſo may ſerve to illuſtrate the peculiar excellencies of Lyſippus.

Le beau buſte Bacchus en bronze, conſervé à Portici, étant un chef-d'oeuvre de l'art, il fût néceſſairement exécuté avant la perte des anciennes méthodes; et comme la tête de ce buſte, comparée au col, ſeroit petite par rapport au reſte du corps, comme le cheveux en ſont admirablement bien travaillés, et comme on y remarque d'ailleurs la plus grande élégance dans les moindres parties, cela m'a faite dire ci-deſſus que je croyois reconnoitre la main de Lyſippe dans ce rare morceau, car ce ſont les caractères que Pline donne expreſſément à ſes ouvrages, lib. xxxiv. 'Statuariae arti plurimum traditur contuliſſe, capillum exprimendo, capita minora faciendo quam antiqui .....Propriae hujus videntur eſſe argutiae operum, cuſtoditae in minimis quoque rebus.

In ſpeaking of Lyſippus, I musſt not fail to obſerve that his brother Lyſiſtratus was alſo an eminent ſtatuary, and particularly diſtinguiſhed as the firſt who executed portraits with the utmoſt exactneſs, by the ingenious device of taking a caſt in plaiſter from the face.

[270]In citing the words of Pliny, which celebrate Lyſiſtratus for this invention, I will venture to ſuggeſt a new reading in the paſſage, which may vindicate (as I imagine) this intereſting author from the charge of having expreſſed himſelf rather abſurdly on this ſubject*.

I have ſeen it ſomewhere obſerved, that a ſtatue, reſembling the diminutive Hercules of Lyſippus, was formerly in the poſſeſſion of the celebrated Pithou, who has been called the Varro of France: but I apprehend that intereſting work of ancient art has long ceaſed to exiſt; and as the animated poem, in which Statius has deſcribed the ſtatue and its moſt amiable poſſeſſor, has not appeared (to my recollection) in our language, I ſhall conclude this note with an entire verſion of the Latin epiſtle I allude to, as the moſt pleaſing tribute that antiquity has paid to the talents of Lyſippus.

Appendix A.3.8.1 HERCULES EPITRAPEZIOS.
[]
Appendix A.3.8.1.1 Hercules Epitrapezios.
[272]
Forte remittentem curas, Phoeboque levatum
Pectora, cum patulis tererem vagus otia ſeptis
Jam moriente die, rapuit me coena benigni
Vindicis, haec imos animi perlapſa receſſus
Inconſumpta manet, neque enim ludibria ventris
Hauſimus, aut epulas diverſo e ſole petitas,
Vinaque perpetuis aevo certantia faſtis.
Ah! miſeri, quos noſſe juvat, quid Phaſidis ales
Diſtet ab hiberna Rhodopes grue: quis magis anſer
Exta ferat: cur Thuſcus aper generoſior Umbro:
Lubrica qua recubent conchylia mollius alga.
Nobis verus amor, medioque Helicone petitus
Sermo, hilareſque joci brumalem abſumere noctem
Suaſerunt, mollemque oculis expellere ſomnum;
Donec ab Elyſiis proſpexit ſedibus alter
Caſtor, et heſternas riſit Tithonia menſas.
O bona nox! junctaque utinam Tirynthia luna!
Nox, et Erythraerae Thetidis ſignanda lapillis,
Et memoranda diu, geniumque habitura perennem.
Mille ibi tunc ſpecies aeriſque eboriſque vetuſti,
Atque locuturas mentito corpore ceras
Edidici. Quis namque oculis certaverit uſquam
Vindicis, artificum veteres cognoſcere ductus,
Et non inſcriptis auctorem reddere ſignis?
Hic tibi quae docto multum vigilata Myroni
Aera, laboriferi vivant quae marmora coelo
Praxitelis, quod ebur Piſaeo pollice raſum,
[274]Quod Polycletaeis juſſum eſt ſpirare caminis,
Linea quae veterem longe fateatur Apellem,
Monſtrabit; namque haec, quoties chelyn exuit ille,
Deſidia eſt; hie Aoniis amor avocat antris.
Haec inter, caſtae Genius tutelaque menſae
Amphitryoniades, multo mea cepit amore
Pectora, nec longo ſatiavit lumina viſu:
Tantus honos operi, fineſque incluſa per artos
Majeſtas! Deus ille, Deus; ſeſeque videndum
Indulſit Lyſippe tibi, parvuſque videri
Sentirique ingens, et cum mirabilis intra
Stet menſura pedem, tamen exclamare libebit,
(Si viſus per membra feras) hoc pectore preſſus
Vaſtator Nemees; haec exitiale ferebant
Robur, et Argoos ſrangebant brachia remos.
Hoc ſpatio, tam magna, brevi, mendacia formae!
Quis modus in dextra, quanta experientia docti
Artificis curis, pariter geſtamina menfae
Fingere, et ingentes animo verſare Coloſſos?
Tale nec Idaeis quicquam Telchines in antris,
Nec ſolidus Brontes, nec qui polit arma Deorum
Lemnius, exigua potuiſſet ludere maſſa.
Nec torva effigies epuliſque aliena remiſſis;
Sed qualem parci domus admirata Molorchi,
Aut Aleae lucis vidit Tegeaea ſacerdos:
Qualis ab Oetaeis emiſſus in aſtra favillis
Nectar adhuc torva laetus Junone bibebat:
Sic mitis vultus, veluti de pectore gaudens
Hortetur menſas, tenet haec marcentia fratris
[276]Pocula, at haec clavae meminit manus; aſpera ſedes
Suſtinet, occultum Nemeaeo tegmine ſaxum.
Digna operi fortuna ſacro: Pellaeus habebat
Regnator laetis numen venerabile menſis,
Et comitem Occaſus ſecum portabat et Ortus:
Prenſabatque libens modo qua diademata dextra
Abſtulerat dederatque, et magnas verterat urbes.
Semper ab hoc animos in craſtina bella petebat,
Huic acies Victor ſemper narrabat opimas,
Sive catenatos Bromio detraxerat Indos,
Seu clauſam magna Babylona refregerat haſta,
Seu Pelopis terras libertatemque Pelaſgam
Obruerat bello: magnoque ex agmine laudum
Fertur Thebanos tantum excuſaſſe triumphos.
Ille etiam, magnos Fatis rumpentibus actus,
Cum traheret letale merum, jam mortis opaca
Nube gravis, vultus altos in numine caro
Aeraque ſupremis tenuit ſudantia menſis.
Mox Naſamoniaco decus admirabile regi
Poſſeſſum; fortique Deo libavit honores
Semper atrox dextra perjuroque enſe ſuperbus
Annibal. Italicae perfuſum ſanguine gentis,
Diraque Romuleis portantem incendia tectis
Oderat, et cum epulas, et cum Lenaea dicaret
Dona, Deus caſtris maerens comes iſſe nefandis.
Praecipue cum ſacrilega face miſcuit arces
Ipſius, immeritaeque domos ac templa Sagunti
Polluit, et populis furias immiſit honeſtas.
Nec poſt Sidonii lethum ducis aere potita
Egregio plebeia domus: convivia Syllae
[278]Comebat, ſemper claros intrare penates
Aſſuetum, et felix dominorum ſtemmate ſignum.
Nunc quoque (ſi mores humanaque pectora curae
Noſſe deis) non aula quidem, Tirynthie, nec te
Regius ambit honos: ſed caſta, ignaraque culpae
Mens domini, cui priſca fides, caeptaeque perenne
Foedus amicitiae: ſcit adhuc florente ſub aevo
Par magnis Veſtinus avis, quem nocte dieque
Spirat, et in carae vivit complexibus umbrae.
Hic igitur tibi laeta quies, fortiſſime divum
Alcide! nec bella vides pugnaſque feroces,
Sed chelyn, et vittas, et amantes carmina laurus.
Hic tibi ſolenni memorabit carmine, quantus
Iliacas Geticaſque domos, quantuſque nivalem
Stymphalon, quantuſque jugis Erimanthon aquoſis
Terrueris; quem te pecoris poſſeſſor Iberi,
Quem tulerit ſaevae Mareoticus arbiter arae.
Hic penetrata tibi ſpoliataque limina mortis
Concinet, et flentes Libyae, Scythiaeve puellas.
Nec te regnator Macetûm, nec barbarus unquam
Annibal, aut ſaevi poſſet vox horrida Syllae
His celebrare modis; certe tu muneris auctor
Non aliis malles oculis, Lyſippe, probari.
Appendix A.3.8.1.2 The Table Hercules.
[273]
Haply at eaſe, from ſtudious toil ſet free,
The day expiring as I rov'd at large,
The call of Vindex, hoſpitable friend!
Drew me to ſupper; and within the mind
It reſts yet unconſum'd. No feſtive toys
Of dainty appetite we there devour'd,
Viands far-fetch'd, or wines of wondrous age.
Ah! wretched thoſe, who nice diſcernment boaſt
In crane or pheaſant; tell how geeſe grow large;
Why Umbrian boars by Tuſcan are ſurpaſs'd;
And on what weeds the richeſt cockles reſt!
Love and diſcourſe, from Helicon deriv'd,
With ſocial pleaſantry, led us to waſte
The wintry hours, diſcarding downy ſleep,
Till a new Caſtor from Elyſium roſe,
And upon laſt night's feaſt Aurora ſmil'd.
Excellent night! would thou hadſt match'd, in length,
That whence Alcides roſe! Thy joys deſerve
Feſtivity's red mark and endleſs fame.
A thouſand beauties there, of ivory wrought,
Of braſs, and wax, with mimic life endow'd,
I learnt; for who, like Vindex, has an eye
That, ſeeing ancient artiſts in their touch,
Reſtores the author to the nameleſs work?
How the ſine braſs, elaborately wrought,
Speaks learned Myron's toil; how marble grace
Proclaims Praxiteles; whoſe ivory charms
[275]What drew its breath from Polycletus' forge,
And lines that own Apelles from afar,
He ſhews: his paſtime when he quits the lyre!
This paſſion calls him from Aonian caves.
Of theſe, the guard and genius of the board,
Alcides, moſt with awful love inſpir'd
My breaſt, and feaſted my inſatiate eyes.
Such grace adorns the work; in narrow bounds
Such majeſty; the God, the preſent God,
Lyſippus! bleſt thy ſight. Small to be ſeen,
And mighty to be felt, within a foot
His wondrous ſtature: yet may we exclaim,
Contemplating his limbs, "This boſom preſs'd
"The Nemean lion; and theſe arms,
"Endu'd with fatal force, the oars of Argo broke!
"Can ſpace ſo brief belie ſo vaſt a form?
"What ſkill and knowledge in thy hand and mind,
"Great artiſt! thus to form the table's grace,
"And in thy ſoul conceive coloſſal ſhapes!
"Not the Telchines in Idaean caves,
"Nor Brontes, nor the Lemnian power who points
"Arms for the gods, could thus minutely ſport."
Not fierce this image, nor from feaſts averſe,
But as ador'd, Molorchus! in thy hall;
Or in Tegaea, by his prieſteſs ſeen,
Such as from Oeta, riſen to the ſtars.
Nectar he quaffs, and ſmiles at Juno's frown.
So mild his viſage, as with cordial joy
Prompting the banquet, in one hand he holds
[277]The goblet, one is mindful of his club,
The rock, his ſeat, his lion-veſt conceals.
Due fortune grac'd the hallow'd work; ſince firſt
Pella's young victor, on his feſtive board
Rever'd, and bore it to the weſt and eaſt,
And claſp'd it in that hand which oft beſtow'd,
Oft ſeiz'd a crown, and mighty cities cruſh'd.
This for the morrow's battle he invok'd;
To this, when Victor all his triumph told,
Whether from Bacchus' yoke he India freed,
Or the beleaguer'd Babylon o'erthrew;
Or trampled on the liberties of Greece
In martial rage. Of all his numerous feats,
Only his Theban triumph ſought excuſe.
He, when the Fates cut ſhort his bright career,
The deadly cup exhauſted; and his brow,
Dark with Death's ſhadow, on this ſoften'd bronze
Fix'd his rais'd eyes, and preſs'd the ſocial god.
Next, as the treaſure of the Libyan chief,
The ſtatue ſhone. The hand of Hannibal
Fierce and fallacious, new libations pour'd
To this brave power: but him, with Latian blood
Deform'd, and bearing deſolating fire
'Gainſt Rome, the god abhorr'd; and at his feaſt
Mourn'd as the partner of an impious camp;
Then moſt, when ſacrilegious he deſtroy'd
Herculean towers; and juſt Saguntum's ſhrines
Subverting, ſir'd her ſons to glorious rage.
The Punic chieftain dead, the hallow'd bronze
Shar'd no plebeian houſe, but Sylla's feaſt
[279]Adorn'd; accuſtom'd to be nobly lodg'd,
And happy in a line of ſplendid hoſts.
Now, too, (if morals and the human heart
Claim from the gods attention,) now no pomp
Waits thee, Alcides! but the blameleſs thoughts
Of thy refin'd poſſeſſor; the pure train
Of truth and friendſhip! Theſe Veſtinus knew,
Whoſe death outſhone his fires, to Vindex dear;
So dear, he lives by honouring the dead.
Here, then, Alcides! braveſt of the gods,
Share joyous quiet; ſee nor wars nor ſtrife,
But peaceful wreaths, the laurel and the lyre!
Your preſent hoſt in ſolemn verſe ſhall tell
How great, in Thrace, in Ilion, on the ſnows
Of Stymphalus, in Erymanthian dales,
You ſcatter'd terror; how Iberia's chief
Fear'd you; and how the lord of bloody ſhrines.
He too ſhall ſing the precincts of the dead,
Owning your power, and nymphs of various climes.
You, neither Ammon's ſon, nor Punic chief,
Nor ſavage Sylla, could applaud in ſtrains
So juſt; nor could'ſt thou, author of the work,
Lyſippus! wiſh a more accompliſh'd judge.

Appendix A.3.9 NOTE IX. Ver. 399. And Grief's convulſion ſhakes the ſphere of Art.

[280]

M. de Caylus cloſes one of his Diſcourſes on the Sculpture of the Ancients, in the Memoirs of the French Academy, with a circumſtantial account of the Rhodian Coloſſus, collected from the authors of remote and recent times who have occaſionally mentioned this moſt magnificent of all coloſſal figures, the memorable production of a little iſland once ennobled by the united influence of liberty, art, and naval power! Yet, after the reſearches of an accompliſhed writer, on a ſubject ſo attractive to his fancy, we muſt ſtill remain in ignorance of ſome particulars relating to this intereſting image, that a lover of the arts would be glad to aſcertain. Much, however, is known. Pliny has deſcribed the fragments of this Coloſſus in clear and animated language*. The Greek epigram, containing its dimenſions, varies (according to different readings) from ſeventy to eighty cubits. M. de Caylus, forming his calculation from the expreſſion of Pliny, that few men could embrace the thumb, concludes that the height of the perfect ſtatue was about an hundred and five feet.

[281]We learn from Strabo that it was broken aſunder at the knees, and that the Rhodians conſidered themſelves as prohibited by an oracle from replacing it. They probably guarded the fragments with a religious veneration. I know not otherwiſe how to account for a very ſurpriſing fact, which my deceaſed friend Gibbon has recorded with his uſual elegance and energy of expreſſion. He obſerves, that ‘after ſtanding fifty-ſix years, the Coloſſus of Rhodes was overthrown by an earthquake: but the maſſy trunk and huge fragments lay ſcattered eight centuries on the ground.’ I cannot tranſcribe the words of an accompliſhed author, whoſe memory is ſo juſtly dear to me, without reflecting, with poignant regret, what infinite advantages, for the improvement of my preſent work, I might have derived from his taſte, knowledge, and kindneſs, had his life been extended according to my wiſhes. Gibbon, though he was not a collector of ſtatues or pictures, had a lively eſteem for all the fine arts.

I return to the Rhodian Apollo.—If we may truſt the Byzantine writers, Theophanes and Conſtantine, the braſs of this Coloſſus was gilt*. The Saracen chief, who invaded Rhodes in the year 672, ſeized and tranſported this ponderous plunder into Syria, where it was publicly ſold to a Jew of Edeſſa. The ſtory of loading nine hundred camels with the weight of theſe ſtupendous relies has the air of an Arabian tale. M. de Caylus imagines that modern writers have fallen into a great miſtake concerning the attitude and the ſtation of the ſtanding Coloſſus, by repreſenting it as a ſtriding figure at the entrance of the port, as the reader may have ſeen it in ordinary prints, with veſſels failing between its legs. This intelligent writer rather ſuppoſes it to have been placed on the ſhore, upon a ſingle triangular baſis of white marble. He ſays that no ancient author, no ancient monument, is [282] found to countenance the modern ſuppoſition of a ſtriding attitude: yet I apprehend the following epigram in the Anthologia, according to one mode of conſtruction, amounts almoſt to a proof that the ſtatue had a double baſis; part on the land, and part in the water:

[...].
[...]
[...],
[...],
[...].
[...]
[...].
[...],
[...].
On the Statue raiſed to the Sun by the Rhodians.
To thee, O Sun! thy Rhodians bade ariſe
This bright Coloſſus, tow'ring to the ſkies,
Of braſs; for they, invaſion's tide repreſs'd,
Thus crown'd their iſle with ſpoils, true valor's teſt!
O'er land and water it was theirs to raiſe
Unconquer'd liberty's enlivening blaze;
For they, who drew from Hercules their birth,
Were heirs of empire o'er the ſea and earth.

But circumſtances relating to this celebrated work are ſo far from being clearly known, that the ſtatue has been aſcribed to different [283] artiſts: to Chares, to Laches, and to Lyſippus himſelf. Meurſius ſuppoſes, with great probability, that it was begun by Chares, and finiſhed by Laches. Theſe two ſculptors were both natives of Lindus, a Rhodian city; and Chares is known to have been a favourite diſciple of Lyſippus. A paſſage of Cicero, in which he is mentioned as ſuch, informs us in what particular parts of the human figure different ſculptors of eminence were thought to excel*.

Appendix A.3.10 NOTE X. Ver. 421. Servility benumbs the ſoul of Greece.

Winkelmann, who juſtly eſtimated the influence of freedom upon art, has obſerved, that after Greece was reduced to the condition of a Roman province, hiſtory mentions no Greek artiſt of any note till the period of the Roman triumvirate. "The liberty of the Greeks," ſays that animated author, ‘was buried in the ruins of Corinth. Art ſunk entirely in Magna Graecia, where it had flouriſhed with the philoſophy of Pythagoras and of Zeno, in the boſom of many free and opulent cities. It periſhed utterly by the arms and the barbarity of the Romans.’

Appendix A.3.11 NOTE XI. Ver. 441. And, faintly promiſing to flouriſh, died.

[284]

The learned and enthuſiaſtic hiſtorian of ancient art, in noticing its migration from the deſolated cities of Greece into Syria and Aegypt, remarks, that being employed to ſerve the pomp and pageantry of courts, it loſt an infinite portion of its grandeur and genius under the Seleucides and the Ptolemies. Yet he aſſerts, that under Ptolemy Philadelphus, "Alexandria became almoſt what Athens had been."

Is not this paying rather too high a compliment to the Egyptian monarch? He was, however, a patron of art, and a lover of magnificence. His regard for a Grecian city, diſtinguiſhed by talents, appears conſpicuous, from a circumſtance recorded by Athenaeus, in the deſcription of a ſplendid feſtival with which Ptolemy amuſed himſelf and the people of Alexandria. In this gorgeous ſcene an immenſe multitude of ſtatues were carried in proceſſion; and near to that of Ptolemy himſelf (who was attended by three oddly-grouped companions, Alexander, Virtue, and Priapus) was the image of Corinth, adorned with a diadem of gold*.

Winkelmann imagines, from the profuſion of ſtatues which appeared in this ſumptuous pageant, that a great number of Grecian ſtatuaries found, at this peirod, an aſylum in Alexandria. If they did, it is but too probable that their talents were enfeebled by their change of ſituation; ſince Winkelmann himſelf has obſerved, that of the artiſts who [285] then flouriſhed in Egypt, we know only the name of a ſingle ſculptor, Satyreius, who formed, of chryſtal, a portrait of Arſinoe the wife of Ptolemy Philadelphus; a performance celebrated in the following Greek epigram from the Fourth Book of the Anthologia:

[...].
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...].
Grotii Verſio.
Zeuxidos et color et gratia, ſed Satureius
Tam varias laudes exhibet Arſinoes,
In glacie parva: Dominae ſum tantula tantae
Effigies, in me nil tamen ejus abeſt.
Diodorus, on the ſculptured Chryſtal.
Thine, Zeuxis! grace and colour; yet in me,
Small chryſtal image for Arſinoe
By Satureius form'd, her charms are ſeen
True as they ſparkle in the living queen.

[286]Winkelmann conſiders this repreſentation of Arſinoe as an engraved gem: but I have ſeen a ſmall buſt of chryſtal and porphyry united, which may poſſibly be the very portrait deſcribed by Diodorus.

Ptolemy was ſo fond of the arts and of his queen, that he is ſaid to have projected a temple to her memory, ſo vaulted with loadſtone, as to keep a metallic ſtatue of Arſinoe ſuſpended in the air; a project which the death of his famous architect Dimocrates is ſuppoſed to have defeated! Arſinoe happened to ſuffer, in a ſingular manner, in conſequence of her huſband's paſſion for ſculpture. In marrying his daughter to Antiochus king of Syria, Ptolemy had affectionately conducted the bride to Seleucia; and being charmed by a magnificent ſtatue of Diana, he received it as a preſent from his ſon-in-law, and tranſported it to Alexandria: but Arſinoe falling ſick on its arrival, ſaw, in her troubled dreams, the offended goddeſs, who complained of being removed from her Syrian temple. Ptolemy had tenderneſs ſufficient to calm the diſturbed fancy of his queen, by ſending back the favourite ſtatue, but had not the reward he deſerved for his humanity—the delight of reſtoring the health of his Arſinoe.

Winkelmann, in ſpeaking of the arts at the court of Seleucia, aſſerts that the Grecian ſculptors who migrated into Aſia ſurpaſſed, in their works, ſuch of their brethren as remained in their own country; and he quotes the laſt character of Theophraſtus in proof of this aſſertion. In conſulting the character referred to, I find nothing that can relate to works of art: but in a character very near the laſt, (the 23d, on Oſtentation,) I find a paſſage which, if it proves any thing, may be thought rather to prove the reverſe of what the learned hiſtorian of art has, in this inſtance, advanced with an inaccuracy very pardonable in an animated writer, whoſe reſearches were ſo extenſive, and whoſe general merits are ſo great. Theophraſtus makes his man of oſtentation, who boaſts of his campaigns with Alexander, contend that the artiſts in [287] Aſia are ſuperior to thoſe in Europe; whence we may reaſonably infer not that they really were ſo, but that Theophraſtus rather thought the contrary. The paſſage, however, alludes not to ſtatues, but to goblets and gems*.

The learned Heyne, in his Diſſertation on the Ptolemies, has juſtly obſerved, ‘Primorum ſtatim regum ſtudia artium et cupiditates operum ad faſtum et magnificentiam potius ſe inclinaſſe, quam ad judicii elegantiam aut verae pulchritudinis ſenſum: ex ipſis enim regni opibus mature luxus et mollities orta aulam et urbem tanquam peſtilenti ſidere afflavit.—HEYNE Opuſcula, vol. i. p. 115.

Appendix A.3.12 NOTE XII. Ver. 463. Thy zeal to ſave may Sculpture's field expreſs!

Whether we contemplate the excellence or the number of ancient ſtatues that have been wonderfully recovered in the three laſt centuries, our obligations to Time, as a preſerver, are ſuch as may juſtly excite aſtoniſhment and gratitude. Had he reſtored only the Laocoon, the Apollo of the Belvedere, and the Medicaean Venus, a lover of the arts might conſider his kindneſs in the department of ſculpture, as equivalent to his literary beneficence in preſerving the compoſitions of Demoſthenes, Plato, and Homer. The liberality of Time, as a reſtorer, will appear in the ſtrongeſt point of view, if we contraſt what Poggio ſaid of the ſtatues in Rome, in the fifteenth century, and what the Abbé Guaſco [288] wrote to his brother, on the ſame ſubject, about fifty years ago. I will tranſcribe the two paſſages I allude to; obſerving that the teſtimony of Poggio is the more to be depended on, as he was particularly fond of ancient ſculpture. His delight in collecting fragments of antiquity is recorded by the accompliſhed hiſtorian of Lorenzo de Medici.—Roſcoe, vol. ii. p. 196.

‘Me maxime movet, quod, his ſubjiciam, ex innumeris ferme Coloſſis, ſtatuiſque tum marmoreis, tum aeneis (nam argenteas atque aureas minime miror fuiſſe conflatas) viris illuſtribus ob virtutem poſitis, ut omittam varia ſigna voluptatis atque artis cauſa publice ad ſpectaculum collocata, marmoreas quinque tantum, quatuor in Conſtantini Thermis; duas ſtantes pone equos, Phidiae et Praxitelis opus; duas recubantes; quintam in foro Martis; ſtatuam quae hodie Martis fori nomen tenet; atque unam ſolam aeneam equeſtrem deauratam quae eſt ad Baſilicam Leteranenſem Septimio Severo dicatam, tantum videmus ſupereſſe; ut partem maximam ſtragis urbis ſi quis numerum advertat, hoc ſolum fuiſſe fateatur.’—Thus feelingly did Poggio deſcribe, the ſculptural poverty of Rome; poſſeſſing only five ancient ſtatues in the year 1430, according to Gibbon's remarks on the date of his "elegant, moral lecture" De Varietate Fortunae. In the year 1745 the Abbé Guaſco, writing from Rome to his brother, gives the following account of the ſculpture that had delighted him in that city:

Ses anciennes productions ſont innombrables, et elles paſſent toute expreſſion autant en beauté qu'en quantité. Le nombre des ſtatues antiques eſt ſi grand, que ſi l'on faiſoit comme dans l'ancienne Rome le cens des citoyens, je doute ſi ceux-ci ne ſe trouveroient pas inferieurs en nombre à celui de ce peuple inanimé.—De l'Uſage des Statues chez les Anciens, Preface, p. 17.

Appendix A.3.13 NOTE XIII. Ver. 509. This richeſt offspring of confederate ſkill.

[289]

It is a ſuppoſition of Winkelmann, that the Rhodian ſculptor Ageſander executed himſelf the figure of Laocoon, and Ageſander's two ſons, Athenodorus and Polydorus, the two younger figures of the group: an idea ſo pleaſing, that the fancy and the heart are both willing to embrace it.

Felix de Fredis, a Roman citizen, had the good fortune to diſcover the Laocoon, and to receive from pope Julius the Second an eccleſiaſtical penſion for his diſcovery. Leo the Tenth exonerated the revenues of the church from this penſion, and gave to Fredis in exchange the poſt of apoſtolical ſecretary, in the year 1517. The raiſing of this, glorious work of art from its grave might form, perhaps, a very intereſting hiſtorical picture; as ſome eminent perſonages might be introduced as ſpectators of the ſcene. The following Latin verſes were written on the ſtatue, ſoon after its revival, by the celebrated Cardinal Sadolet:

Appendix A.3.13.1 JACOBI SADOLETI, De Laocoontis Statua.
Ecce alto terrae cumulo, ingentiſque ruinae
Viſceribus iterum reducem longinqua reduxit
Laocoonta dies, aulis regalibus olim
Qui ſtetit, atque tuos ornabat, Tite, Penates:
[290]Divinae ſimulacrum artis; nec docta vetuſtas
Nobilius ſpectabat opus; nunc alta reviſit
Exemptum tenebris redivivae moenia Romae.
Quid primum ſummumve loquar? Miſerumne parentem
Et prolem geminam? An ſinuatos flexibus angues
Terribili aſpectu? Caudaſque iraſque draconum,
Vulneraque, et veros, ſaxo moriente, dolores?
Horret ad haec animus, mutaque ab imagine pulſat
Pectora non parvo pietas commixta tremori.
Prolixum vivi ſpiris glomerantur in orbem
Ardentes colubri, et ſinuoſis orbibus ora,
Ternaque multiplici conſtringunt corpora nexu.
Vix oculi ſufferre valent crudele tuendo
Exitium caſuſque feros: micat alter, et ipſum
Laocoonta petit, totumque infraque, ſupraque
Implicat, et rabido tandem ferit ilia morſu.
Connexum refugit corpus, torquentia ſeſe
Membra, latuſque retro ſinuatum a vulnere cernas.
Ille dolore acri, et laniatu impulſus acerbo
Dat gemitum ingentem, crudoſque avellere dentes
Connixus, laevam impatiens ad terga chelydri
Objicit: intendunt nervi, collectaque ab omni
Corpore vis fruſtra ſummis conatibus inſtat.
Ferre nequit rabiem, et de vulnere murmur anhelum eſt.
At ſerpens lapſu crebro redeunte ſubintrat
Lubricus intortoque ligat genua inſima nodo.
Crus tumet, obſepto turgent vitalia pulſu
Liventeſque atro diſtendunt ſanguine venas.
Nec minus in natos eadem vis effera ſaevit.
Amplexuque angit rabido, miſerandaque membra
[291]Dilacerat: jamque alterius depaſta cruentum
Pectus, ſuprema genitorem voce cientis
Circumjectu orbis, validoque volumine fulcit.
Alter adhuc nullo violatus corpora morſu
Dum parat adducta caudam divellere planta,
Horret ad aſpectum miſeri patris, haeret in illo:
Et jamjam ingentes fletus, lacrimaſque cadentes
Anceps in dubio retinet timor: ergo perenni
Qui tantum ſtatuiſtis opus jam laude nitentes
Artifices magni (quanquam et melioribus actis
Quaeritur aeternum nomen, multoque licebat
Clarius ingenium venturae tradere famae)
Attamen ad laudem quaecunque oblata facultas
Egregium hanc rapere, et ſumma ad faſtigia niti.
Vos rigidum lapidem vivis animare figuris
Eximii, et vivos ſpiranti in marmore ſenſus
Inſerere adſpicimus, motumque, iramque, doloremque
Et poene audimus gemitus: vos obtulit olim
Clara Rhodos: veſtrae jacuerunt artis honores
Tempore ab immenſo, quos rurſum in luce ſecunda
Roma videt, celebratque frequens: operiſque vetuſti
Gratia parta recens. Quanto praeſtantius ergo eſt
Ingenio, aut quovis extendere fata labore
Quam faſtus, et opes, et inanem extendere luxum!
Carmina Illuſtrium Poetarum Italorum, tom. viii. p. 228.

Appendix A.3.14 NOTE XIV. Ver. 517. Of wretched beauty, and of ruin'd pride.

[292]

I have already obſerved that it was a doubt, in the age of Pliny, whether the Niobe ſhould be aſcribed to Praxiteles or to Scopas. Winkelmann and the Abbé Guaſco agree in aſſigning it to the latter.

If their conjecture be juſt, it is yet probable that Praxiteles alſo executed a ſtatue of Niobe, from the following epigram in the Anthologia:

[...].
[...]
[...].
Grotii Verſio.
Ex viva lapidem dii me fecere; ſed ecce
Praxiteles vivam me facit ex lapide.
Gods made me ſtone, for a preſumptuous ſtrife:
Praxiteles in ſtone reſtores my life.

Appendix A.3.15 NOTE XV. Ver. 525. His brief exiſtence ebbing as he lies.

[293]

The ſtatue, commonly called the Dying Gladiator, has been ſuppoſed to be the work of Cteſilaus deſcribed by Pliny: ‘vulneratum deſicientem, in quo poſſit intelligi quantum reſtat animae *.’ But Winkelmann imagines it to be rather the figure of a herald, and allows his reader the choice of three eminent heralds of antiquity who were ſlain in deſpight of their pacific office;—Polyphontes, the herald of Laius, killed by oedipus; Copreas, the herald of Euryſtheus, deſtroyed by the Athenians; and Anthemocritus, the herald of Athens, murdered by the inhabitants of Megara.

Appendix A.3.16 NOTE XVI. Ver. 535. And feels the god reanimate his frame.

In contemplating the Farneſian Hercules, I believe many ſpectators feel an involuntary mechanical impulſe to muſcular exertion. The daily contemplation of very fine ſculpture, that expreſſed, with the utmoſt powers of art, great elevation of mind, would probably have a ſtrong and happy influence on mental character.

The legs of this celebrated Hercules were wanting, when the ſtatue was firſt diſcovered. The following anecdote concerning them is related by Bottari, in one of his notes to Vaſari's Life of Michel Angelo:

[294]A queſta ſtatua fra Guglielmo (della Porta) rifece le gambe tanto excellentemente, che eſſendoſi diſſoi nel 1560, trovate le antiche Michelagnolo ſu di parere, che vi ſi laſciaſſero ſtare le moderne, et le antiche furono ripoſte in una ſtanza del palazzo Medeſino. E Fama ancora, che lo ſteſſo Michelagnolo ne faceſſe prima il modello di terra, e ſopra eſſo le ſcolpiſſe poi di marmo fra Guglielmo.

Appendix A.3.17 NOTE XVII. Ver. 547. Saw, in his touch, the grandeur of the whole.

The intereſting deſcription of Michel Angelo's amuſement in the decline of life reſts on the authority of Sandrart, who publiſhed his "Admiranda Sculpturae Veteris" in 1680. Bottari, in the book that I have cited in the preceding note, expreſſes himſelf rather angrily againſt Sandrart for having repreſented Michel Angelo as blind; a circumſtance that he conſiders as falſe. But the laborious painter of Germany, who publiſhed ſuch extenſive, well-intended, yet very imperfect works upon Art, might very innocently call a noble veteran of ninety blind, without meaning more than ſuch infirmity of viſion as naturally belongs to that age. Or perhaps he might too eaſily credit a popular report. That Sandrart was credulous in the extreme the reader will readily allow, who happens to recollect the ridiculous things he has related concerning the Apollo of the Belvedere, in his ‘Admiranda Sculpturae.’

Appendix A.3.18 NOTE XVIII. Ver. 563. Scorn for the rancour of malignant foes.

[295]

‘Of all the productions of art that have eſcaped deſtruction, the ſtatue of Apollo,’ ſays Winkelmann, ‘is unqueſtionably the moſt ſublime. It riſes, indeed, as a ſingle figure, to the higheſt pitch of excellence: but I confeſs the group of the Laocoon appears to me a ſuperior effort of ſculpture.’

Appendix A.3.19 NOTE XIX. Ver. 599. A fav'rite truth reſerv'd for future verſe.

Some of the moſt accompliſhed of recent writers on Painting and Sculpture (particularly Winkelmann and Webb) ſeem to conſider the influence of revealed religion as unfavourable to each of theſe intereſting profeſſions. On the contrary, it may, I think, be proved that Chriſtianity is as much ſuperior to Paganiſm, for the favourable guidance of art, as it confeſſedly is for the moral conduct of life; a point that I hope to illuſtrate more at large, if I ſhould happen to have powers and opportunity to execute, what I originally thought of blending with the preſent publication,—an extenſive Sketch of Modern Sculpture!

END OF THE NOTES ON THE THIRD EPISTLE.

Appendix A.4 NOTES ON THE FOURTH EPISTLE.

[297]

Appendix A.4.1 NOTE I. Ver. 44. MIGHT owe the maſk dramatic muſes wear.

Dempſter, who has laboured with admirable zeal and erudition to revive the honour of Etruria, contends very ſtrenuouſly for the inventive genius of the Etruſcans. Among the many inventions that he aſcribes to them, we may reckon not only the maſk, the buſkin, and the brazen trumpet, but almoſt all ‘The pomp and circumſtance of glorious war;’ and particularly the ſolemnities of triumphal magnificence.

This early and zealous advocate for the glory of Etruria is angry with Strabo for having imagined that the Romans had borrowed ſuch ſolemnities from the Greeks: ‘Videtur Strabo triumphandi apparatum ad Romanos quidem a Tuſcis veniſſe ſignificare, ſed et illos a Graecis hauſiſſe: quod non poteſt mirum videri in Graeculo, impenſius [298] patriae ſuae encomiis favente. Nam verius Appianus Alexandrinus, facundus olim Romae advocatus, et verax hiſtoricus, antiquiorem multo facit triumphi apud Etruſcos inventionem, ſcilicet mille annis et amplius ante Romam. DEMPSTER, Etruria Regalis, tom. i. p. 328.

Appendix A.4.2 NOTE II. Ver. 52. Made home the paſſion of the virtuous breaſt.

‘Lares apud antiquos nihil profecto erant, niſi piorum animae, quae corpore functae familiam ſuam et poſteros tuebantur, qua de re impenſiſſime per ſingulas domos colebantur, tantaque religione, ut ab ipſis Laribus per quoddam tranſlatum ipſae aedes vocatae ſint.’— The learned Paſſerius thus deſcribes the Lares, in his intereſting Diſſertation "De Laribus Etruſcorum," inſerted in the firſt volume of his ſplendid work, "Picturae Etruſcorum in Vaſculis."

It is Macrobius, if I remember right, who ſays that the Aegyptians had their Lares. The [...] of the Greeks are alſo conſidered as anſwering to the Lares of the Latins; yet I imagine it may be juſtly aſſerted that the Etruſcans were peculiarly diſtinguiſhed by their remarkable attention to theſe domeſtic deities. The word Lar is Etruſcan, and originally ſignified "a hero", in that language. The Lararia, (‘in domibus ſecreta quaedam penetralia, in quibus diligentiſſime dii domeſtici ſervabantur, Lares, et Genii utriuſque ſexus,’) the ſcenes in which theſe houſehold deities were guarded and worſhipped, are frequently diſplayed in the works of Etruſcan art; ſo that we may almoſt ſay, in the words of old Ennius, (altered a little for this application of them,) ‘Hoc filo pendebit Etruria tota.’

[299]I cannot conclude this note without obſerving that the domeſtic deities afford a delightful ſubject for poetry; and that the ſubject has been treated with great moral elegance and exquiſite ſenſibility, in a poem entitled "Hymn to the Penates," by Mr. Southey.

Appendix A.4.3 NOTE III. Ver. 62. Foil'd in ſharp conflict from the Tyrrhene coaſt.

It appears from a paſſage in Athenaeus, that the Etruſcans had a naval engagement with the Argonauts; and that of all the Grecian heroes, their pilot Glaucus was the only one who eſcaped without a wound. Even he perhaps was drowned in the conflict, as the words of this obſcure tradition may lead us to conjecture*.

Appendix A.4.4 NOTE IV. Ver. 78. His mild morality's benignant ſway.

Dempſter, ever zealous for the glory of Etruria, contends, on the authority of Suidas, that Pythagoras was an Etruſcan, and not a native of Samos, as he is generally called. Suidas indeed aſſerts, that when he was a youth he migrated from Etruria to Samos with his father Mneſarchus, a ſculptor of gems. But wherever this illuſtrious philoſopher [300] was born, the moral influence of his doctrine on the cities of Tuſcany is univerſally allowed; and Brucker, in his elaborate Hiſtory of Philoſophy, thus deſcribes the effect of his admonitions on the inhabitants of Crotona: ‘Ita emendabat Crotoniatorum mores, et ad frugalitatem revocabat, et ad virtutem ſingulas hominum aetates et ſexum mira eloquentiae efficacia excitabat.—Hiſt. Crit. Philoſ. tom. i. p. 1012.

Appendix A.4.5 NOTE V. Ver. 94. Her brave Haleſus of Argolic race.

"En paſſant en Etrurie," ſays the Abbé Guaſco in ſpeaking of ſtatues raiſed in honour of public characters, ‘nous trouverions que les anciens fondateurs ou legiſlateurs de cette nation, obtinrent dans ce pays les mêmes honneurs que les Grecs accorderent à leurs héros. On y voyoit le ſimulacre d'Haleſus, le premier qui porta dans ces contrées les myſteres de Junon, qui fonda quelques villes, et que l'inſcription en caractère Etruſque, qu'on liſoit aux pieds de ſa ſtatue, diſoit fils de Neptune et deſcendu des Veiens...... Le cabinet de Cortone conſerve une ſtatue de ces héros, armé en cuiraſſe et en caſque.’

I apprehend the learned Abbé has led me to confound two different heroes of the ſame title. This is not the Haleſus who makes a much more graceful figure as a warrior in the poetry of Virgil, than his nameſake does in the ancient ſculpture of his Etruſcan cotemporaries,— according to the engraving of his image, which I find in the Firſt Volume of Gori's "Muſeum Etruſcum."

[301]Dempſter imagines there were two Etruſcan kings of this name. The firſt governed the Veientes before the aera of the Salian prieſts; the ſecond is believed to have been a ſon of Agamemnon, immortalized in the following verſes of Virgil and of Ovid:

— Sed bellis acer Haleſus
Tendit in adverſos, ſeque in ſua colligit arma.
Aeneid x. v. 411.

Argiva eſt pompae facies. Agamemnone caeſo,
Et ſcelus et patrias fugit Haleſus opes.
Jamque pererratis profugus terraque, fretoque,
Moenia felici condidit alta manu.
Ille ſuos docuit Junonia ſacra Faliſcos.
Sint mihi, ſint populo ſemper arnica meo.
OVID. Amorum, Lib. iii. Eleg. xiii.

I ought not to quit Etruria without obſerving, that many laudable efforts have been made to reſcue and elucidate the almoſt annihilated reliques of this unfortunate nation, by ſeveral authors of indefatigable induſtry and refined erudition. Much may be learned from Dempſter, Gori, and the ſenator Buonarotti: ſtill more from the various Latin diſſertations of Paſſeri, and the Saggio di Lingua Etruſca Dall Abate Lauzi. The latter has added to his deep reſearches into the language of Etruria a very pleaſing little Treatiſe, ‘Circa la Scoltura degli Antichi e i varii ſuoi Stili.’ On that of Etruria he obſerves: ‘Direbbeſi che il diſegno Etruſco nelle figure ſi conforma con quello della lot loro architettura—l'ordine Toſcanico è il piu forte di tutti, ma il meno gentile.’

Appendix A.4.6 NOTE VI. Ver. 116. Their works ſhe blindly prais'd and baſely ſtole.

[302]

Nothing could exceed the inaptitude of the Romans to excell in the art of ſculpture, except the rapacity with which they ſeized the ſtatues of the various nations who ſurpaſſed them in ingenuity.

Their public ravages of this kind were often followed by petty acts of barbariſm and baſeneſs ſtill more deteſtable; for, not contented with having carried off the monuments of public merit from the countries they overcame, they eraſed inſcriptions from the ſtatues of illuſtrious men, and inſerted falſe titles of their own. On this occaſion it is juſtice to exclaim with Cicero, "Odi falſas inſcriptiones ſtatuarum alienarum."

The learned Figrelius, who has written at length on the ſtatues of the Romans, relates ſome curious examples of this ſculptural forgery. It appears, from the authority of Dio Chryſoſtom, that Alcibiades was turned into Aenobarbus; and according to Zonaras, even Conſtantine the Great did not ſcruple to put his own name on a ſtatue of Apollo: but if he did ſo, we may hope it was rather to annihilate the worſhip he condemned, than to impoſe the figure of a Pagan divinity on the people as the real repreſentative of a Chriſtian emperor.

In juſtice to the Romans it is proper to remark, that they might poſſibly learn from the Greeks themſelves the diſingenuous practice of falſifying the ſtatues of ancient worthies. We know that Rhodes (one of the moſt magnificent marts of ſculpture in the Pagan world!) incurred conſiderable diſgrace by this ſpecies of falſehood, for which Dio Chryſoſtom reproves the Rhodians in a very copious, animated, and beautiful [303] oration, which contains ſome intereſting anecdotes of ſculpture, and an eloquent deſcription of its influence on the ſpirit of antiquity:

[...] (ſays the indignant orator) [...].— DIONIS Rhodiaca Oratio, p. 316. edit. folio, 1604.

The learned and judicious Caſaubon joins with Photius in pronouncing this the beſt of all Dio's orations, and gives the following juſt account of the orator's intentions:

Tam prolixa oratione hoc unum agit; ut Rhodiorum ſenatui ac populo morem diſſuadeat, qui apud eos obtinuerat, ſtatuas veteres transferendi ad aliorum honorem titulis mutatis, ſurdo figurarum diſcrimine. Non apud Rhodios ſolum haec conſuetudo invaluerat: verum etiam apud Graecos alios et Romanos quoque..... ſed nullus fuit populus qui rem riſu dignam adeo uſu frequentavit atque iſte: cujus gloriae cum faveret Dio,....ob tam abſurdum inſtitutum acerrime eum objurgavit.

There is another oration of Dio relating to ſculpture, and particularly entertaining. The orator with great dexterity expreſſes his ſurpriſe, to the inhabitants of Corinth, that a brazen ſtatue of himſelf, with which they had honoured him on his former viſit, (about eleven years before,) had vaniſhed from their city—a ſubject of great delicacy, and very gracefully treated, particularly in the cloſe of the oration.

Appendix A.4.7 NOTE VII. Ver. 126. Hunted with fierce inquietude for more.

[304]

Marcellus, the plunderer of Syracuſe, was perhaps the mildeſt of Roman ravagers. He is ſaid to have dropped a tear of compaſſion on his conqueſt of that beautiful city. Mr. Pinkerton mentions an exquiſite medallion, ſuppoſed to be ſtruck by Syracuſe in honour of this compaſſionate victor*; who, tender as he was, did not fail to play the Roman, in carrying off the rich and tempting ſpoils in his power. The nature of thoſe ſpoils, and the future conſequences of ſuch conduct, are finely deſcribed in the following words of Livy:

Marcellus, captis Syracuſis, quum caetera in Sicilia tanta fide atque integritate compoſuiſſet, ut non modo ſuam gloriam, ſed etiam majeſtatem populi Romani, augeret; ornamenta urbis, ſigna, tabulaſque, quibus abundabant Syracuſae, Romam devexit. Hoſtium quidem illa ſpolia, et parta belli jure: caeterum inde primum initium mirandi Graecarum artium opera, licentiaeque huic ſacra profanaque omnia vulgo ſpoliandi factum eſt; quae poſtremo in Romanos deos, templum id ipſum primum, quod a Marcello eximie ornatum eſt, vertit. Viſebantur enim ab externis ad portam Capenam dedicata a Marcello templa, propter excellentia ejus generis ornamenta, quorum perexigua pars comparet.—Lib. xxv. c. 40.

The triumphant ſplendor of ancient Rome ſeems to have dazzled even the philoſophical ſpirits of antiquity, and to have ſtruck them blind to the predominant vices of her national character. Theſe were arrogance and rapacity; vices generally ſtigmatized when they appear in an individual, and certainly not deſerving a cenſure leſs ſevere when [305] they form the characteriſtics of a nation. Yet ſo faſcinating is the pride of ſucceſsful valour, that the nation of antiquity moſt injurious in its conduct towards the reſt of the world is often commended as an object for modern emulation. The moſt flagrant enormities of which the governors of France (both regal and republican) have been guilty, ſeem to have been greatly owing to an indiſcriminate and fantaſtic imitation of Roman ſpirit; with a prepoſterous paſſion, ſometimes concealed, and ſometimes avowed, for univerſal dominion. The French appear to believe the Romans to have been what they ſuppoſed themſelves to be— a divine race of men, deſtined by ſuperior virtue to ſubdue the other nations of the earth; or, to uſe the words of their elegant but ſervile flatterer Virgil:

— progeniem virtute futuram
Egregiam, et totum quae viribus occupet orbem.
Aeneid, lib. vii.

A Latin author, of an age not ſo poliſhed, the Chriſtian philoſopher Arnobius, who wrote with the indignant warmth of an African, has drawn, in the oppoſite point of view, a forcible and faithful picture of the Romans, in the queſtions with which he concludes his animated invective, "Adverſus Gentes."

Generis earn fuiſſe divini quiſquamne hominum credat, aut habuiſſe aequitatem diis dignam, quae humanis ſeſe diſcordiis inſerens aliorum opes fregit, aliis ſe praebuit exhibuitque fautricem: libertatem his abſtulit, alios ad columen dominationis erexit: quae ut una civitas emineret, in humani generis perniciem nata, orbem ſubjugavit innoxium.

Theſe prominent features in the national character of Rome are painted alſo, with great fidelity and ſpirit, by Monteſquieu, in his maſterly ſketch of her grandeur and decline; particularly in the chapter [306] entitled, ‘De la Conduite que les Romains tinrent pour ſoumettre tous les peuples.’

But the ſublimeſt cenſure on the national conduct of Rome is that which Milton has paſſed upon it, in his Paradiſe Regained; where, to exhibit her ambition in the moſt execrable point of view, he makes the Arch-fiend propoſe it as a model, in one of his inſidious ſpeeches to our Saviour, ‘Aim, therefore, at no leſs than all the world. Paradiſe Regained, Book iv. v. 105.

Appendix A.4.8 NOTE VIII. Ver. 138. Thoſe wonders of her hand that Taſte ador'd.

The burning of Corinth was one of the moſt ſavage acts of Roman ferocity. The Anthologia contains the following pathetic Greek epigram on the utter demolition of that celebrated city:

[...].
[...];
[...];
[...]
[...];
[...],
[...].
[...]
[...].
[307]Grotii Verſio.
Nunc ubi ſublimes tollentia maenia turres
Et laudes et opes Dori Corinthe, tuae?
Nunc ubi Siſyphiae matres et mille virorum
Agmina, totque domus ſanctaque templa Deûm?
Tantorum decorum veſtigia nulla ſuperſunt,
Omnia corrupit Martis acerba lues.
Solae reſtamus geminis Nereides undis
Teque velut maeſtae plangimus Alcyones.
Antipater, on the Deſtruction of Corinth.
Where Dorian Corinth are thy graceful bowers?
Where thy fam'd ſplendor, where thy crown of towers?
Where thy bright temples, fill'd with Beauty's train?
Where now the myriads thou couldſt once contain?
Of thee unhappy not a trace is found,
But all by War's o'erwhelming flood is drown'd.
We, the ſole Halcyons of thy waſted ſhore,
Thy plaintive Nereids, thy dire fate deplore.

Appendix A.4.9 NOTE IX. Ver. 146. With ſpoils thy heroes cannot underſtand.

[308]

The ſtupidity of Mummius, the deſtroyer of Corinth, is become almoſt proverbial, from the ſpeech he made concerning the works of Grecian art that he diſpatched to Rome. He threatened thoſe, to whoſe care he had entruſted this invaluable part of his booty, that whatever articles they loſt, they ſhould be bound to replace by new ſimilar productions: ‘Si eas perdidiſſent novas eos reddituros. VELLEIUS PATERCULUS.

Dio Chryſoſtom in his Oration to the Corinthians very properly beſtows on this Roman ravager the appellation of [...]; and gives a few curious ſpecimens of his abſurd conduct concerning ſome particular ſtatues that made a part of his Grecian plunder.

Appendix A.4.10 NOTE X. Ver. 156. To die, and not have ſeen the works he wrought.

[...].—ARRIANI EPICTETUS, lib. i. c. 6.

Appendix A.4.11 NOTE XI. Ver. 168. And ſhar'd the immortality they gave.

[309]

The Abbé Guaſco has well deſcribed the deep and lively intereſt that the Grecians took in the perfection of art, and in the honour of its profeſſors:

L'autorité publique prenoit un intérêt très ſerieux à la perfection de l'art. A'Thebes ainſi qu'à Athenes il y avoit des loix tendant à proteger, et encourager les profeſſeurs, et des loix pénales et pecuniaires pour ceux qui faiſoient de mauvais ouvrages; elles défendoient même de s'occuper d'objets difformes ou communs.

La conſideration et les diſtinctions qu'on accordoit aux artiſtes dans la Grèce, étoient très-propres à les encourager; loin d'être regardés comme des mercénaires à gage et des ſimples ouvriers, on les conſidéroit comme des hommes diſtingués, comme des eſprits ſublimes donés d'un génie divin, enrichis per l'étude, et polis par l'uſage du monde, ils étoient mis au niveau des philoſophes et des premiers perſonages de l'état, parvenant à ſes premiers emplois, et partageant dans les faſtes de la patrie l'immortalité qu'ils donnoient aux hommes illuſtres; il n'étoit pas extraordinaire de voir leur ſtatues à côtè de celles des heros et des rois.—

De l'Uſage des Statues, p. 421.

The Greeks indeed in general paid ſuch honours very juſtly to their ſublime artiſts: but the Grecian philoſophers ſeem to have looked upon them with a very jealous (not to ſay an evil) eye. Even Plato and Plutarch have occaſionally ſpoken of artiſts with a ſort of envious diſreſpect that is particularly unbecoming in men of ſuch cultivated minds. Theſe two enlightened and benevolent philoſophers might have reflected that an accompliſhed ſculptor, whoſe art is properly directed, [310] may be conſidered like themſelves as the true ſervant of moral philoſophy.

A nation can hardly honour too highly the ſucceſsful profeſſors of any refined and arduous art, whoſe productions have an evident and graceful tendency to give elevation and dignity to national character: ſince, as Cicero ſays, very nobly in his Oration pro Muraena, ‘Omnes enim artes quae nobis populi ſtudia conciliant, et admirabilem dignitatem, et pergratam utilitatem debent habere. Summa dignitas eſt in iis qui militari laude antecellunt: omnia enim quae ſunt in imperio, et in ſtatu civitatis ab iis defendi et firmari putantur; ſumma etiam utilitus: ſiquidem eorum conſilio et periculo, cum republica, tum etiam noſtris rebus perfrui poſſumus.’

The true intereſt, honour, and laſting proſperity of a ſtate ſeems to depend, in great meaſure, on preſerving a due balance and reciprocal reſpect between arts and arms; for wherever too ſtrong a predilection for either prevails, that very predilection (though it produces a blaze of ſucceſs in a ſingle path of celebrity) becomes a certain, yet unſuſpected ſource of future deſtruction. Carthage was ruined by her paſſion for commerce, and Rome by her fiercer paſſion for war.

Appendix A.4.12 NOTE XII. Ver. 178. Spurns the diſtinction of her Roman ſtyle.

"As to a Roman ſtyle in art," ſays the animated Winkelmann, ‘I conſider it as a chimera.’ The ſentiments of Guaſco on this ſubject are exactly the ſame.

Appendix A.4.13 NOTE XIII. Ver. 206. Juſt to the talents of accompliſhed foes.

[311]

Pliny has not applauded his countrymen ſo warmly as he might have done, with juſtice, for this remarkable proof of their magnanimity. In mentioning the ſtatues of foreigners in Rome, he only ſays, ‘Adeo diſcrimen omne ſublatum, ut Annibalis etiam ſtatuae tribus locis viſantur in urbe, cujus intra muros ſolus hoſtium emiſit haſtam. Lib. xxxiv. c. 6.

Appendix A.4.14 NOTE XIV. Ver. 256. To the poor ſound of a deteſted name.

The anecdote of Sylla and the portable ſtatue, which he made ſubſervient to his atrocious ambition, is related in the following words by Valerius Maximus:

L. Sylla quoties praelium committere deſtinabat, parvum Apollinis ſignum Delphis ſublatum, in conſpectu militum complexus, orabat, uti promiſſa maturaret.—Lib. i. c. 4.

In the curious little Treatiſe, ‘Caſti Innocentis Anſaldi de Romana Tutelarium Deorum in Oppugnationibus Urbium Evocatione,’ reprinted at Oxford 1765, the reader may contemplate the ingenuity of Pagan ſuperſtition in trying to avert the reſentment of thoſe deities, whoſe ſtatues were ſo rapaciouſly removed from their temples by the pride, avarice, or hypocriſy of Pagan conquerors. There is a paſſage, [312] towards the end of this Treatiſe, which paints the Romans, in very juſt and ſtrong colours, as the plunderers of the world:

Effrenem hanc Romanorum Graeca erga ſimulacra cupiditatem optime explicat Gulielmus Budaeus*. Urbem (inquit) Romam totius prope orbis ſpoliis locupletem fuiſſe, hiſtorica fide planum fieri poteſt; iis quidem certe qui Latinos Graecoſque ſcriptores rerum geſtarum lectitârint: non modo enim duces imperatoreſque Romani vi aperta et bellica in boſtico, ſed etiam proconſules provinciarumque praeſides in pacato, furtis, rapiniſque, expilationibus graſſabantur qua ſacrum, qua profanum, domum ſua quiſque avertentes. Inde illud ſatyrographi poetae:
Inde Dolabella eſt; atque inde Antonius; inde
Sacrilegus Verres: referebant navibus altis
Occulta ſpolia, et plures de pace triumphos.
Equidem quod ad me attinet (ſubdit) cum haec, quae in opuſculum congeſſi, animo reputarem, ea mihi ſpecies urbis Romae animo obverſabatur, quaſi arcem quandam expilatorum orbis terrarum viderem, et veluti communi gentium omnium Cimeliarchium (ut verbo Juſtiniani principis utar) id eſt ſanctius conditorium rerum toto orbe eximiarum.—ANSALDI, edit. Oxon. p. 158.

Appendix A.4.15 NOTE XV. Ver. 310. Said, with parental ſmiles, to bleſs thy natal hour.

[313]
Julius Caeſar utebatur equo inſigni, pedibus prope humanis, et in modum digitorum ungulis fiſſis: quem natum apud ſe, cum haruſpices imperium orbis terrae ſignificare domino pronuntiâſſent, magna cura aluit; nec patientem ſeſſoris alterius primus aſcendit: cujus etiam inſtar pro aede Veneris Genitricis poſtea dedicavit.—SUETONIUS in Julio, c. 61.

The genius and ſpirit of Julius appear, perhaps, to the greateſt advantage in a ſimple liſt of the grand projects he had formed juſt before his death—a liſt preſerved by this faithful biographer of the Caeſars. I will only tranſcribe the three firſt articles:

De ornanda inſtruendaque urbe, item de tuendo ampliandoque imperio plura ac majora indies deſtinabat; in primis Martis templum, quantum nuſquam eſſet, extruere, repleto et complanato lacu in quo naumachiae ſpectaculum ediderat; theatrumque ſummae magnitudinis Tarpeio monti accubans; jus civile ad certum modum redigere, atque ex immenſa diffuſaque legum copia, optima quaeque et neceſſaria in pauciſſimos conferre libros; bibliothecas Graecas et Latinas, quas maximas poſſet publicare, data Marco Varroni cura comparandarum ac digerendarum.

A juſt Life of this moſt extraordinary man, whoſe vices and virtues have had ſuch an extenſive influence over the ancient and the modern world, appears to be a deſideratum in Engliſh literature.

Appendix A.4.16 NOTE XVI. Ver. 376. By native meanneſs in the monarch's mind.

[314]

The ſentiments with which an upright and independent lover of learning contemplated the character of Auguſtus, are forcibly diſplayed in a manly and eloquent letter of Sir William Jones to Gibbon, inſerted in the Poſthumous Works of the hiſtorian.

Winkelmann and Guaſco agree in the opinion, that the ſtatue of this emperor, with naval inſignia alluding to the victory at Actium, is inferior to other productions of the ſame period.

Among ſeveral laudable actions of this artful tyrant, relating to ſculpture, I will not fail to notice one that is particularly deſerving of praiſe. He melted ſome ſilver ſtatues of himſelf, that ſervility had devoted to him, and applied the coin they produced to the improvement of the public roads.

[...].—DION CASSIUS, vol. i. p. 717.

Mecaenas had given him the advice of a true friend, not to permit any ſtatues to be raiſed to him either in ſilver or gold; as the editor of Dion remarks on the paſſage I have cited.

Appendix A.4.17 NOTE XVII. Ver. 386. Power's fav'rite ſignet, the imperial face.

[315]
Auguſte ſe ſervit dans les commencemens de ſon empire, d'une pierre ſur laquelle étoit gravè un ſphinx. Il abandonna cet emblême, pour faire ceſſer de mauvaifes plaiſanteries, et il prit la tête d'Alexandre à laquelle il ſubſtitua encore ſon propre portrait, que pluſieurs des empereurs ſes ſucceſſeurs adopterent pour leur cachet. C'étoit le celebre Dioſcoride qui l'avoit gravé.—MARIETTE, Traitè des pierres gravées, tome i. p. 25.

Appendix A.4.18 NOTE XVIII. Ver. 392. Their own Mecaenas their peculiar gem.

Among the gems of Baron Stoſch, engraved by Picart, there are two admirable heads of Mecaenas: one by Dioſcorides, and one by Solon; upon which the intelligent Mariette very juſtly obſerves: ‘L'on voit bien dans les deux portraits, que l'un et l'autre artiſte ont travaillé d'apres nature, d'apres un objet vivant; l'air de tête eſt le même, cela ne pouvoit être autrement, la reſſemblance n'eut pas été parfaite; mais les cheveux ſont variés: il y a des differences conſiderables dans les parties acceſſoires, les portraits ſe preſentent dans deux ſens oppoſés.’

I cannot quit the intereſting patron of Horace without remarking that the Abbé Souchay, in his "Recherches ſur Mecénas," inſerted [316] in the Memoirs of the French Academy, has ably defended the character of this illuſtrious friend to literature againſt the ſarcaſtic aſperity of Seneca.

Appendix A.4.19 NOTE XIX. Ver. 410. The juſt memorial of his reſcued boy.

Ulyſſis ſcutum habuiſſe delphinum pro inſigni etiam ſcripſit Steſichorus. Zacynthi narrant cauſam ut Critheus teſtatur. Nam Telemachum puerum in mare profundum de litore prolapſum delphini ſervaverunt, ſubeunteſque natando extulerunt: at pater, ut animali referret gratiam, ſignatorio annulo hanc ſculpturam et clypeo hunc ornatum addidit.—JUNIUS, e Plutarcho de Solertia Animalium.

The ſeal-rings of antiquity form an extenſive ſubject for curious and amuſing reſearch. Helen, as well as Ulyſſes, is ſaid to have uſed the image of a fiſh for her ſeal:

[...].—PHOTIUS, p. 494.

Appendix A.4.20 NOTE XX. Ver. 438. Made the maim'd vaſſals of his impious pride,

[317]
Divinam majeſtatem aſſerere ſibi coepit; datoque negotio ut ſimulacra numinum religione et arte praeclara, inter quae Olympii Jovis, apportarentur e Graecia, quibus capite dempto ſuum imponeret, panem palatii ad forum uſque promovit, atque aede Caſtoris et Pollucis in veſtibulum transfigurata, conſiſtens ſaepe inter fratres deos medium ſe adorandum adeuntibus exhibebat; et quidam eum Latialem Jovem conſalutaverunt.—SUETONIUS in Caligula, c. 22.

This impartial chronicler of the exploits and enormities of the Caeſars ſpeaks with a becoming indignation, when he ſays of Caligula, ‘Hactenus quaſi de principe, reliqua ut de monſtro narranda ſunt.’

One of his moſt deteſtable outrages againſt ſculpture, was the demolition of the ſtatues that had been raiſed to the illuſtrious public characters of his country, in different periods, and nobly aſſembled in the Campus Martius, with graceful ſolemnity, by Auguſtus.

Statuas virorum illuſtrium ab Auguſto ex Capitolina area propter anguſtias in Martium Campum collatas ita ſubvertit atque disjecit, ut reſtitui ſalvis titulis non valuerint. Vetuitque poſthae viventium cuiquam uſquam ſtatuam aut imaginem, niſi conſulto ſe et auctore, poni.—SUETONIUS, c. 34.

Appendix A.4.21 NOTE XXI. Ver. 454. Fail'd in his art to form the fluid maſs.

[318]
Omnem amplitudinem ſtatuarum ejus generis vicit aetate noſtra Zenodorus.....Romam accitus eſt a Nerone, ubi deſtinatum illius principis ſimulacrum Coloſſum fecit CX pedum longitudine, qui dicatus ſolis venerationi eſt, damnatis ſceleribus illius principis.....Ea ſtatua indicavit interiſſe fundendi aeris ſcientiam.

The particulars of this failure have not been explained; and Falconer, rejecting a conjecture of M. de Caylus, obſerves, on the occaſion, ‘Pline eſt ici fort obſcur, non dans les termes, mais dans l'objet, qui ſans doute ne lui étoit pas aſſez familier pour en ſaiſir à propos les differens raports.’

Winkelmann imputes the bad taſte of Nero to the influence of Seneca, to gratify his reſentment againſt the conceited philoſopher for preſuming to exclude painters and ſculptors from the circle of the liberal arts.

Appendix A.4.22 NOTE XXII. Ver. 464. Peace, in her temple, gives a purer home.

Fu queſto tempio, terminata la guerra Giudaica, fabbricato dall imperatore Veſpaſiano vicino all arco di Tito, ſopra le rovine del Portico della Caſa Aurea di Nerone. Fu queſt' edificio in grandiſſima riputazione appreſſo gli antichi.....Oggi di queſto tempio non ſe ne [319] vede in piedi ſe non una parte, che ſoſtiene tre archi vaſtiſſimi mezzi ſepolti—vedendovi ſi ancora le nicchie per le ſtatue.—
VENUTI, Antichita di Roma, p. 30.

Veſpaſian, who, as Suetonius ſays of him, ‘ingenia et artes vel maxime fovit,’ collected and diſplayed, in this temple of Peace, (a temple, whoſe portico extended two hundred and forty-four feet,) the ſtatues and pictures that Greece had ſupplied to decorate the Golden Palace of Nero.

Appendix A.4.23 NOTE XXIII. Ver. 478. To ſpare thee torments of domeſtic grief.

Among the gems of Baron Stoſch there is a head of Julia, on beril, by Evodus. Had the life of the beneficent Titus, her father, been extended, it is probable that his days would have been deeply embittered by the uncommonly deplorable frailties of his daughter. Juvenal has ſpoken of her diſguſting intrigue, with that filthy coarſeneſs of language which forms a frequent and a dark ſpot on his ſplendid morality.

Appendix A.4.24 NOTE XXIV. Ver. 480. The rabble's vengeance on a tyrant kill'd.

Procopius, in his Secret Hiſtory, has related a very ſingular and improbable anecdote concerning a ſtatue of this imperial monſter.

He ſays, that after the death of Domitian, no image of him was ſuffered to remain, except one that was raiſed on the following occaſion: [320] When the body of the tyrant had been literally torn to pieces by the fury of the people, the ſenate, to expreſs their reſpect for his wife, promiſed to grant any requeſt of her's. She aſked only permiſſion to bury her huſband, and raiſe a ſtatue in bronze to his memory. The requeſt was granted. She collected the limbs, and had a ſtatue executed in ſuch a manner as to mark the different outrages that the body had ſuſtained—a ſtatue, placed on the Capitoline Hill, and ſtill expreſſing, (ſays the hiſtorian,) in this age, the figure and the fate of Domitian.

Appendix A.4.25 NOTE XXV. Ver. 502. Tenderly juſt, magnificently kind.

An alluſion to paſſages in a letter of Pliny:

Heri a ſenatu Veſtricio Spurinnae, principe autore triumphalis ſtatua decreta eſt.....Hoc quidem virtutis praemium, illud ſolatium doloris accepit, quod filio ejus Cottio quem amiſit abſens, habitus eſt honor ſtatuae. Rarum id in juvene, ſed pater hoc quoque merebatur, cujus graviſſimo vulneri magno aliquo fomento medendum fuit. Praeterea Cottius ipſe tam clarum ſpecimen indolis dederat, ut vita ejus brevis et anguſta debuerit hac veluti immortalitate proferri. Nam tanta ei ſanctitas, gravitas, autoritas etiam, ut poſſet ſenes illos provocare virtute, quibus nunc honore adaequatus eſt. Quo quidem honore, quantum ego interpretor, non modo defuncti memoriae, dolori patris, verum etiam exemplo proſpectum eſt. Acuent ad bonas artes juventutem adoleſcentibus quoque (digni ſunt modo) tanta praemia conſtituta; acuent principes viros ad liberos ſuſcipiendos et gaudia ex ſuperſtitibus, et ex amiſſis tam glorioſa ſolatia.—Lib. ii. Epiſt. 7.

Appendix A.4.26 NOTE XXVI. Ver. 512. Thy Venus prais'd thee with victorious ſmiles.

[321]

Herodes Atticus, the munificent citizen of Athens, was the accompliſhed ſon of a moſt fortunate father;—a father, who had not only the rare good fortune to diſcover, and obtain permiſſion from the emperor Nerva to appropriate to his own family a concealed and inexhauſtible treaſure, but the higher good fortune to find, and ſucceſsfully cultivate, in his child, thoſe talents and virtues which, inſtead of being corrupted by unbounded opulence, rather appeared to derive from it new energy and luſtre. Herodes Atticus became not only the richeſt ſubject in the Roman empire, but he was at the ſame time one of the moſt ſtudious, the moſt eloquent, and liberal of men. It was his noble maxim, that the wealthy ought to employ their riches, not only in relieving the neceſſities of the poor, but in ſaving thoſe of narrow circumſtances from ſinking into poverty. Pauſanias, who lived at the ſame period, has ſpoken with pleaſure of the magnificent gifts beſtowed by this generous Athenian on different parts of Greece. The moſt remarkable were, the Stadium that he formed at Athens, of the fineſt marble, extending ſix hundred feet; and ſtatues of ſingular beauty and ſplendor, with which he decorated the temple of Neptune, on the Iſthmus of Corinth. The Abbé Guaſco, without mentioning his authority, aſſerts that this accompliſhed Athenian practiſed the art of ſculpture himſelf:

Le celèbre Hérode, ſurnomme l'Attique, ne crut pas ſe degrader en maniant lui-même le ciſeau; et la Venus armée, dont il fut l'auteur, fait connoitre qu'il honoroit autant la ſculpture par le bon gout de ſes productions, que par la dignité de ſa perſonne.

[322]In conſulting various ancient authors who have ſpoken of this intereſting character, and a modern Life of him by Mr. Burigny, in the Memoires of the French Academy, I cannot find any farther proof of his having added a talent for ſculpture to his other accompliſhments; and am therefore inclined to ſuppoſe that the Venus in queſtion was a donation only, and not a work of Herodes. Its merit as a ſtatue may be conceived from the following words of Damaſcius, preſerved in Photius:

[...].—PHOTII Bibliotheca, p. 1045.

I cannot quit this memorable perſonage without obſerving, with pleaſure, that after having obtained conſular diſtinction at Rome, and enjoyed the friendſhip of a virtuous Roman emperor, he ended his days, in a good old age, (ſeventy-ſix,) at his favourite villa, the illuſtrious ſpot of Marathon, where he meant to be privately buried: but the affection of the Athenians, who regarded him as a father, took the body from his domeſtics, and conveyed it, with the moſt honourable ſolemnity, to one of the public ſtructures with which his munificence had decorated their city.

Appendix A.4.27 NOTE XXVII. Ver. 644. And at the mournful ſound the viſions all diſpers'd.

[323]
Parmile grand nombre des monumens qu' Adrien fit éléver, le plus conſiderable étoit ſans contredit l'immenſe edifice qu'il batit au pied de Tivoli, connu ſous le nom de Villa Adriana, maiſon d'Adrien, dont les debris embraſſent un circuit de près de dix miles d'Italie. Pour ſe former une idée de l'immenſité de cette conſtruction, il faut ſe repréſenter qu'elle renfermoit preſque toute une ville, des temples, des paleſtres, et une infinité d'autres édifices, entre autres deux théatres, dont l'un peut nous donner la meilleure notion de tous les edifices de ce genre. C'eſt le théatre le plus entier qui nous ſoit reſté des anciens: on y voit encore le portique, les ſalles des acteurs, les eſcaliers par où l'on montoit au théatre, la porte de la ſcene, les portiques latéraux de l'avant ſcene, l'orcheſtre et la place des inſtrumens. Ce prince avoit imité dans ce palais tout ce que l'antiquité avoit en de plus celebre: le Lycée, l'Académie, le Prytanée, le Portique, le Temple de Theſſalie, et le Pécile d'Athene, il y avoit même fait repréſenter les Champs Elyſées, et le royaume de Pluton.....Les ſtatues qu'on a tirées des fouilles de cette maiſon depuis deux cent cinquante ans, ont enrichi tous les cabinets de l'Europe, et il y reſte encore des decouvertes à faire pour nos derniers neveux.

It is thus that Winkelmann (in the Tranſlation of Huber) ſpeaks of this imperial villa, that ſeems to have ſurpaſſed the ſplendor of Aſiatic magnificence. The liberality of Hadrian to the reviving cities of Greece, and particularly to Athens, is recorded by Pauſanias, and forcibly expreſſed in the two following verſes that were engraved in the Acropolis:

[324]
[...]
[...].

The magnificent public works, and the motley character of this extraordinary emperor, are ſingularly calculated to excite the oppoſite emotions of admiration and diſguſt. His prepoſterous idea of deifying Antinous is ſufficiently explained in the following words of the learned Spanheim:

Le mignon d'Hadrien n'eſt que trop connu de l'hiſtorien de la vie de cet empereur; des paſſages de quelques anciens peres de l'Egliſe, qui en font mention, et entre autres d'Origéne en pluſieurs endroits de ſon excellent livre centre Celſus; et enfin par les temples, les autels, les ſacrificateurs, les jeux, les ſtatues qu' Hadrien lui fit conſacrer après ſa mort; le tout ſelon Dion, pour s'être immolé volontairement aux ſuperſtitions de ſon maitre. Ajoutez l'opinion qu'avoit ce même Hadrien, on faiſoit ſemblant d'avoir que l'ame de cet indigne favori reçeue dans le ciel y tenoit la place d'un aſtre brillant, ſur lequel il attachoit ſouvent la vue. C'eſt dequoy Julien auſſi le raille, et en même tems raille en genéral les Grecs, qui par une honteuſe flatterie, avoient donné place à cet Antinous entre leurs aſtres, comme dans le globe de la lune, ſelon la rémarque de Tatianus, et qu'il ſe prouve encore aujourdhuy par leurs medailles.—SPANHEIM, Note ſur les Ceſars de l'Empereur Julien.

The praiſe beſtowed by hiſtory on Hadrian, in his character of a ſculptor, "proxime Polycletos et Euphranoras," reminds me of the following anecdote in the imperial hiſtorian Vopiſcus, concerning himſelf and his brother hiſtorians.

Vopiſcus was riding in a carriage with his illuſtrious friend Tiberianus: "Sermo nobis," ſays the hiſtorian, ‘de Trebellio Pollione, qui a duobus Philippis uſque ad divum Claudium et ejus fratrem Quintillum, imperatores [325] tam claros quam obſcuros memoriae prodidit, in eodem vehiculo fuit, aſſerente Tiberiano quod Pollio multa incurioſe, multa breviter prodidiſſet: me contra dicente, neminem ſcriptorum quantum ad hiſtoriam pertinet, non aliquid eſſe mentitum; prodente quinetiam, in quo Livius, in quo Saluſtius, in quo Cornelius Tacitus, in quo denique Trogus manifeſtis teſtibus convincerentur: pedibus in ſententiam tranſitum faciens, ac manum porrigens jucundam praeterea, Scribe, inquit, ut libet: ſecurus: quod velis dicas: habiturus mendaciorum comites, quot hiſtoricae eloquentiae miramur auctores!!’— VOPISCI, Divus Aurelianus, c. 2.

END OF THE NOTES ON THE FOURTH EPISTLE.

Appendix A.5 NOTES ON THE FIFTH EPISTLE.

[]

Appendix A.5.1 NOTE I. Ver. 26. SIGH at the ſculptur'd form of Ammon's ſon.

The effect which the ſtatue of Alexander produced on the mind of Julius, is circumſtantially deſcribed in the following words of Suetonius:

Quaeſtori ulterior Hiſpania obvenit; ubi cum mandato praetoris jure dicendo conventus circumiret, Gadeſque veniſſet, animadverſa apud Herculis templum Magni Alexandri imagine, ingemuit; et quaſi pertaeſus ignaviam ſuam, quod nihil dum a ſe memorabile actum eſſet in aetate qua jam Alexander orbem terrarum ſubegiſſet, miſſionem continuo efflagitavit, ad captandas quam primum majorum rerum occaſiones in Urbe.—SUETONIUS in Julio, c. 7.

Appendix A.5.2 NOTE II. Ver. 38. While Mercy bleſt thee as her dear ally.

[328]

A temple (perhaps rather an altar) in Athens, dedicated to Mercy by the deſcendants of Hercules, is ſaid to have been the firſt Aſylum. To this the poet Claudian alludes:

— Flentibus aram,
Et proprium miſeris numen ſtatuiſtis Athenae.

The Aſylum that Romulus eſtabliſhed in his new city is deſcribed in the Second Book of Dionyſius Halicarnaſſenſis. Ovid thus ſpeaks of it in his Faſti:

Romulus ut ſaxo lucum circumdedit alto;
Cuilibet, Huc, inquit, confuge, tutus eris.
FAST. iii. 431.

The privileges and the abuſes of the ancient Aſyla, in different countries, have probably been well illuſtrated by the Abbé Guaſco, in a Treatiſe which he wrote expreſsly on this intereſting ſubject; a book that I have ſought for, without being ſo fortunate as to meet with it.

Appendix A.5.3 NOTE III. Ver. 84. Virtue's prime purpoſe, to deſerve ſucceſs.

[329]

This point is triumphantly proved in the maſterpiece of Demoſthenes, his Oration [...]; and is ſtill further confirmed by the honor which the Athenians paid to his memory, and the privileges they granted to his deſcendants.

The ſtatue raiſed to this moſt eloquent and incorruptible of patriots, after his deceaſe, was executed by the ſculptor Polyeuctus; and the verſes inſcribed upon it (ſometimes erroneouſly ſuppoſed to contain a ſarcaſm on his military conduct) had been compoſed by the orator on himſelf, according to Demetrius the Magneſian, as he is quoted by Plutarch: [...] ( [...]) [...],

[...],
[...].

[...].—PLUTARCHUS, in Vitis decem Oratorum.

Appendix A.5.4 NOTE IV. Ver. 114. And Gratitude and Glory bleſs'd her aid.

[330]

This very ſtriking group of coloſſal ſtatues, erected to honour the Athenians, is mentioned in a decree of the Byzantians, which Demoſthenes takes a becoming pride in introducing as a part of his defence, in his ſublime vindication of his own public conduct:

[...].—DEMOST. edit. Stock. tom. i. p. 62.

Appendix A.5.5 NOTE V. Ver. 140. Poignant and ſweet; morality and praiſe.

"One of Pindar's arts," ſays Dr. Warton, ‘which Lord Bacon has obſerved, and in which his copiers fail, is the introduction of many moral reflections.’ The memorable ſtatue which the Athenians ſo gratefully raiſed to this animated poet is agreeably deſcribed in a letter of Aeſchines the orator:

[...].

Appendix A.5.6 NOTE VI. Ver. 174. When the barbarian force o'erthrew your towers.

[331]
[...].—PLUTARCHI Apophthegmata, edit. 4to. p. 22.

Appendix A.5.7 NOTE VII. Ver. 190. Her ſingle, nameleſs, deſpicable ſon.

The particulars of this remarkable incident, the condemnation of the ſtatue, for having occaſioned the death of its envious enemy, and the ſubſequent divine honours that were paid to Theagenes when his image was reſtored, according to an admonition from the Pythian oracle, are piouſly related in the Sixth Book of Pauſanias.

Appendix A.5.8 NOTE VIII. Ver. 220. And as a guardian power this patriot Greek rever'd.

Plutarch, in his Life of Aratus, has mentioned the ſtatue of the hero, and preſerved its inſcription.

Appendix A.5.9 NOTE IX. Ver. 236. The friend who taught him virtue's nobleſt tone.

[332]
[...].—DIOGENES LAERTIUS, edit. Lipſiae, p. 189.

Appendix A.5.10 NOTE X. Ver. 241. By Aeſop's ſtatue Greece this leſſon gave.

A remark of the elegant and moral Phaedrus:

Aeſopo ingentem ſtatuam poſuere Attici,
Servulumque collocarunt aeterna in baſi:
Patere honoris ſcirent ut cuncti viam:
Nec generi tribui, ſed virtuti gloriam.

This public memorial, juſtly raiſed by the Athenians to the meritorious Aeſop, was the work of Lyſippus. The ſculptor and the moraliſt are both applauded in a Greek epigram competed on this ſtatue:

[...].
[...],
[...],
[333] [...]
[...]
[...]
[...].
[...]
[...].
Grotii Verſio.
Fictorum, Lyſippe, decus Sicyonie, laudo
Aeſopi Samii quod ſenis effigiem
Antelocas ſeptem Graecis ſapientibus: horum
Nam dictis vis eſt plurima, ſuada deeſt.
Ille docet verum blanda ſub imagine falſi,
Sed docet, et monſtrat ſeria cuncta joco.
Aſpra juvent alios: Samii me fabula mulcet
Utile ſub dulci quae clepit illecebra.
Agathias, on the Statue of Aeſop.
Well haſt thou done, Lyſippus, thus to place
Thy ſculptur'd Aeſop high on Honour's baſe,
Before the ſeven ſages. Their diſcourſe
In ſoft perſuaſion fails, though not in force.
His ſapient fiction timely truth ſupplies;
Sporting he leads his hearer to be wiſe.
We ſhun harſh counſel: but this Samian ſage
Of fable forms a feaſt for ev'ry age.

Appendix A.5.11 NOTE XI. Ver. 248. Rever'd his glory as a public truſt.

[334]

Diogenes Laertius aſſerts, in his Life of Socrates, that the Athenians immediately repented their conduct towards the philoſopher, and honoured his memory by a public ſtatue of braſs, the work of Lyſippus! It is remarkable that two men, one eſteemed the wiſeſt, and the other the wittieſt of the Greeks, Socrates and Lucian, were bred to the profeſſion of ſculpture. The vivacity of Lucian, and his antipathy to a ſevere relation, his maſter, probably precluded that comic genius from making any conſiderable advances in an art which requires the ſteadieſt union of induſtry and talent. But Socrates is known to have executed ſome works, as a ſtatuary, that were objects of public regard. Pauſanias has noticed the Graces, in the Acropolis of Athens, as the work of the philoſopher; and in obſerving that theſe and the elder Golden Graces of Bupalus were not deſtitute of drapery, he profeſſes himſelf unable to diſcover what artiſt introduced the cuſtom, prevalent in his time, of repreſenting the Graces naked. Falconet imagines that ſtatues executed by Socrates could have but a trifling degree of merit as works of art, from the philoſopher's having quitted the profeſſion very early in life: but the more candid Greeks ſeem inclined to applaud the laudable endeavours of juvenile talent; and a Greek epigram on a very young ſculptor, Eutychides, ſpeaks of him as equal to Praxiteles, though calamitouſly hurried out of life at the age of ſixteen:

[...],
[...].
[...]
[...]

Appendix A.5.12 NOTE XII. Ver. 264. And rail'd at ſtatues rais'd in woman's name.

[335]

Let me introduce the juſt and polite Guaſco, defending the fair ſex againſt the aſperity of the Roman cenſor:

Caton le cenſeur, toujours zélépour le maintien des maximes primordiales, et peut-être quelquefois un peu ſujet à l'humeur, blamoit comme un abus les ſtatues qu'on dreſſoit aux dames Romaines dans les provinces, le regardant comme choſe contraire aux vieilles maximes de la ſimplicité et de la décence des moeurs; cependant les blâmes de Caton ne parvinrent point à arrêter cette pratique même dans la capitale de l'empire.

Plutarque auſſi pholoſophe, mais plus galant que Caton, ſans parler de ce dernier, mais probablement dans l'intention de le refuter, fait l'apologie des monumens élévés en l'honneur des femmes illuſtres*, et ſoutient qu'elles avoient droit auſſi bien que les hommes, aux monumens qui font vivre dans la poſtérité, toutes les fois qu'elles les avoient mérités par des vertus et des actions brillantes; ajoutant pluſieurs exemples qui prouvent que la vertu du beau ſexe peut être auſſi utile à l'état que celle des hommes. En effet, s'il arrive que s'élevant au-deſſus de ſa foibleſſe naturelle, une femme donne des exemples d'une vertu ſuperieure, pourquoi la priveroit-on des honneurs patriotiques, pourquoi ôteroit-on de devant les yeux des monumens capables d'encourager ſon ſexe à ſe vouer an bien public? Car quoiqu'on flatte perpétuellement les charmes du beau ſexe, quoiqu'on en abuſe ſans ceſſe, on ne conſidere pas aſſez la puiſſante [336] influence que les femmes peuvent avoir comme mères, comme épouſes, comme citoyennes, en bien des occaſions et en mille manières ſur l'eſprit et ſur le coeur.

De l'Uſage des Statues, p. 269.

Appendix A.5.13 NOTE XIII. Ver. 272. E'en from a hoſtile king extorted praiſe.

Cloelia Virgo, una ex obſidibus, quum caſtra Etruſcorum forte haud procul ripa Tiberis locata eſſent, fruſtrata cuſtodes, dux agminis virginum inter tela hoſtium Tiberim tranavit, ſoſpiteſque omnes Romam ad propinquos reſtituit.

Quod ubi regi nuntiatum eſt, primo incenſus ira.....deinde in admirationem verſus, 'Supra Coelites Mucioſque,' dicere, 'id facinus eſſe.' Pace redintegrata, Romani novam in foemina virtutem novo genere honoris, ſtatua equeſtri, donavere. In ſumma ſacra via fuit poſita Virgo inſidens equo.—

LIV. lib. ii. c. 13.

Appendix A.5.14 NOTE XIV. Ver. 286. Conſummate beauty, and the true ſublime.

Cornelia was the admired model of the maternal character in ancient Rome. Her ſons and the people ſeem to have ſympathized in affectionate veneration towards this illuſtrious woman: and a ſtatue was raiſed to the living parent with that moſt ſimple and eloquent inſcription, ‘Cornelia, Mater Gracchorum.’ Pliny deſcribes the ſtatue in the following words:

Sedens, ſoleiſque ſine amento inſignis, in Metelli publica Porticu: quae ſtatua nunc eſt in Octaviae operibus.—Lib. xxxiv. c. 6.

Appendix A.5.15 NOTE XV. Ver. 326. Expreſs'd the feelings of that parting hour.

[337]

This anecdote, one of the moſt pleaſing in all the records of Pagan hiſtory, is well related in the following words of Pauſanias:

[...].—P. 263.

Appendix A.5.16 NOTE XVI. Ver. 340. And with a graceful terror tremble ſtill.

[338]

The following little poem of Claudian was written on the group of intereſting figures to which I have alluded:

Appendix A.5.16.1
Appendix A.5.16.1.1 De piis Fratribus et eorum Statuis quae ſunt apud Catinam.
Adſpice ſudantes venerando pondere fratres,
Divino meritos ſemper honore coli.
Juſta quibus rapidae ceſſit reverentia flammae,
Et mirata vagas repulit Aetna faces.
Complexi manibus fultos cervice parentes,
Adtollunt vultus, adcelerantque gradus.
Grandaevi gemina ſublimes prole feruntur,
Et cara natos implicuere mora.
Nonne vides, ut ſaeva fenex incendia monſtret?
Ut trepido genitrix invocet ore Deos?
Erexit formido comam, perque omne metallum
Fuſus in adtonito palluit acre tremor.
In juvenum membris animoſus cernitur horror,
Atque oneri metuens, impaviduſque ſui.
Rejectae vento chlamydes: dextram exerit ille,
Contentus laeva ſuſtinuiſſe patrem.
Aſt illi duplices in nodum colligit ulnas,
Cautior in ſexu debiliore labor.
Hoc quoque praeteriens oculis ne forte relinquas,
Artificis tacitae quod meruere manus.
[340]Nam conſanguineos eadem cum forma figuret.
Hic propior matri fit tamen, ille patri.
Diſſimiles animos ſolertia temperat artis,
Alter in alterius redditur ore parens.
Et nova germanis paribus diſcrimina praebens,
Diviſit vultus cum pietate faber.
O bene naturae memores, documenta ſupernae
Juſtitiae, juvenum numina, vota ſenum,
Qui ſpretis opibus medios properaſtis in ignes
Nil praeter ſanctam tollere Canitiem.
Haud equidem immerito tanta virtute repreſſas
Enceladi fauces obriguiſſe reor.
Ipſe redundantem fraenavit Mulciber Aetnam,
Laederet exempli ne monumenta pii.
Senſerunt elementa fidem: pater adfuit Aether,
Teraque maternum ſedula juvit onus.
Quod ſi notus amor provexit in aſtra Laconas,
Aeneam Phrygio raptus ab igne pater;
Si vetus Argolicos illuſtrat gloria fratres,
Qui ſua materno colla dedere jugo.
Cur non Amphinomo, cur non tibi, fortis Anapi,
Aeternum Siculus templa dicavit honos?
Plura licet ſummae dederit Trinacria laudi,
Noverit hoc majus ſe genuiſſe nihil.
Nec doleat damnis, quae devius intulit ardor:
Nec gemat exuſtas igne furente domos.
Non potuit pietas flamma ceſſante probari,
Emtum eſt ingenti clade perenne decus.
Appendix A.5.16.1.2 On the Statues at Catina.
[339]
Behold, with hallow'd weight theſe Brothers bend!
Eternal honour on their toil attend!
Etna's fierce torrents pauſe as they retire,
And back with rev'rence turns the wand'ring fire.
Claſping their Parents on their ſhoulders plac'd,
They raiſe their eyes, and through the ruin haſte;
Aloft the elders, in their offspring's guard,
With dear incumbrance their quick ſteps retard.
See, the ſire points where conflagration falls,
While on the Gods the trembling mother calls!
Their hair ſtarts up in terror! Through the braſs
An univerſal ſhudder ſeems to paſs.
A bolder horror in the youths is ſhewn,
More firm, and fearing for their charge alone.
Their veſts blown back, his right hand one extends,
Confiding that the left his ſire defends:
His load with twiſted arms the other holds;
So fonder care the weaker ſex infolds.
Nor unrewarded by diſcernment's praiſe
Be this nice merit, that mute art diſplays;
[341]Fraternal likeneſs in the youths admire,
Tho' one reflects his mother, one his ſire.
Thus ſkilful art makes different minds agree,
And either Parent in each Child you ſee:
Each Youth with pious love the ſculptor warms,
With new diſtinctions in reſembling forms.
O ye (to nature true, and heaven your guide,
Light to the young, the elders' wiſh or pride,)
Who ruſh'd thro' fire, and not from lucre's rage,
But keen to ſave the ſanctity of age!
Enceladus, thy flame-diffuſing jaws
Such virtue ſilenc'd to a ſolemn pauſe:
His flowing Etna Mulciber repreſt,
Leſt piety ſhould loſe ſo dear a teſt:
The elements rever'd their faith—air, earth,
Gave a parental aid to filial worth.
If Spartan ſons by love to heaven aſpire;
If Troy's Aeneas by his reſcued ſire;
If youths of Argos ſhine a double ſtar,
The youths who fondly drew their mother's Car!
Say why, Amphinomus, Anapius, why
Does no juſt ſhrine forbid your fame to die?
Tho' Sicily has many claims to praiſe,
A nobler claim than yours ſhe ne'er could raiſe.
Let her not grieve, to conflagration doom'd,
Nor mourn the fabrics in theſe flames conſum'd;
Virtue, without ſuch proof, had loſt her crown;
Wide ruin was the price of infinite renown.

Appendix A.5.17 NOTE XVII. Ver. 378. Worthy to live in monumental ſtone.

[342]

This memorable incident is recorded by Plutarch, in his Life of Timoleon.

Appendix A.5.18 NOTE XVIII. Ver. 384. The dupe of vanity's delirious fire.

Ovid and Rouſſeau have immortalized the delirium of Pygmalion, with the charms of playful imagination, and faſcinating ſenſibility.

Appendix A.5.19 NOTE XIX. Ver. 386. Condemn'd to bellow in his brazen beaſt.

Quam bene diſpoſitum terris, ut dignus iniqui
Fructus conſilii primis auctoribus inſtet!
--------------------
Sic opifex tauri tormentorumque repertor,
Qui funeſta novo fabricaverat aera dolori
Primus inexpertum, Siculo cogente tyranno,
Senſit opus, docuitque ſuum mugire juvencum.
CLAUDIAN.

This celebrated brazen bull, in which Phalaris, the tyrant of Agrigentum, is ſaid to have tortured its cruel artificer, was ſeized by the Carthaginians [343] with the reſt of their Sicilian plunder, and conveyed to their own city by the victorious Imilcar. A more powerful Roman conqueror ſeized it again in the ſpoils of Carthage; and, according to Cicero, (who mentions the circumſtance in his Orations againſt Verres,) reſtored it to the inhabitants of Agrigentum.

Appendix A.5.20 NOTE XX. Ver. 388. Of vile obſcenity the venal tool.

I have read of a ſtatuary who ſignalized himſelf at Rome by this abuſe of his art; but his name eſcaped my recollection, and it is better forgotten than remembered.

Appendix A.5.21 NOTE XXI. Ver. 400. Of ancient genius give a wider view.

Admiratur et Paſiteles (ſays Pliny,) qui et quinque volumina ſcripſit nobilium operum in toto orbe. Natus hic in Graeciae Italiae ora, et civitate Romana donatus cum iis oppidis, Jovem fecit eburneum in Metelli aede, qua campus petitur. Accidit ei, cum in navalibus, ubi ferae Africanae erant, per caveam intuens leonem caelaret, ut ex alia cavea panthera erumperet, non levi periculo diligentiſſimi artificis. Feciſſe opera complura dicitur; ſed quae fecerit, nominatim non refertur. Lib. 36. c. 5.

Appendix A.5.22 NOTE XXII. Ver. 426. With all the ſplendor of departed power.

[344]

Thoſe who are amuſed by obſerving the oppoſite extremes into which prejudice and partiality are apt to be hurried in deſcribing the ſame author, may be gratified in comparing what the French ſculptor Falconet, and his countryman M. de la Nauze, have ſaid, one to depreciate, and the other to magnify, the merits of Pliny as a writer upon art. Perhaps the ſpirit of that indefatigable and illuſtrious Roman, if we could queſtion him on the ſubject, would equally ſmile at the bitter detraction and the exaggerated praiſe, confeſſing ingenuouſly that he really deſerved neither the one nor the other. In his great and unfiniſhed work it is certainly not difficult to find ſome conſiderable imperfections; yet taken altogether it is a moſt valuable and glorious monument of induſtry, intelligence, and good-nature.

Appendix A.5.23 NOTE XXIII. Ver. 440. Thy Panorama of enchanting Greece.

The character of Pauſanias is very juſtly delineated by M. de Caylus.

Rien n'eſt plus capable de fixer nos idées ſur la magnificence des Grecs, & ſur la manière dont ils ont cultivé les arts, que le recit de Pauſanias. Ce voyageur celebre a vû, dans differentes parties de la Grèce qu'il a parcourues, deux mille huit cens vingt-ſept ſtatues, ou [345] environ...... et ſi l'on peut ſoupçonner avec quelque raiſon, que ſes connoiſſances n'etoient pas fort étendues, du moins il donne à chaque pas les preuves de ſon amour pour la vérité.—
Antiquités, tom. ii. p. 106.

It is to be regretted that we know ſo little concerning the perſonal hiſtory of a traveller, to whom we are ſo highly indebted for a maſs of moſt intereſting information: it appears however from a paſſage in his work, that he wrote his Grecian Travels in the ſixteenth year of the latter Antonine; and from his mentioning no emperor of a later date, he is ſuppoſed to have died in his reign.

Appendix A.5.24 NOTE XXIV. Ver. 460. And moral beauty decorates the whole.

The Latin folio of Francis Junius De Pictura Veterum is a work of extenſive erudition, and equal philanthropy. The very ſtudious and amiable author was born in the Palatinate, 1599: he firſt embraced the profeſſion of arms, but ſoon quitted it on the eſtabliſhment of peace; and after travelling to France, he viſited England, and reſided for thirty years in the family of that illuſtrious lover of art, the celebrated earl of Arundel; a circumſtance peculiarly favourable to his elaborate production. The firſt edition of it was printed in Holland; but the ſecond, with many additions, and a life of the author by Graevius, was publiſhed in London, 1694.

A letter from Grotius, dated Paris, 1638, in returning thanks to Junius for a copy of his book, contains the following judicious and elegant deſcription of its merit:

[346]Miror diffuſam lectionem, judicium, ordinem, & quae ex cunctis artibus ad hanc artem ornandam attuliſti. Plane ſimile mihi videtur hoc opus tuum illis imaginibus quae e lapillis diverſicoloribus compaginatis fiunt, qualis illa Satyri Epigrammate Graeco celebrata, & Theuderici Gothorum regis memorata Procopio. Delectat varietas, multoque magis ex iſta varietate conſurgens pulchra ſpecies. Rogo te ut multa des nobis ſimilia.

Junius died at Windſor, in the houſe of his nephew Voſſius: and the univerſity of Oxford, to whom this moſt mild and laborious ſcholar bequeathed his books, has honoured his memory with an epitaph that contains the following very pleaſing eulogy:

Per omnem aetatem
Sine querela aut injuria cujuſquam
Muſis tantum et ſibi vacavit.

Appendix A.5.25 NOTE XXV. Ver. 476. And ſunk from glorious toil to dark repoſe.

The abbée Guaſco had the misfortune to have his ſtudies for a long time ſuſpended, and at laſt terminated by a calamity peculiarly ſevere to a man of letters,—the failure of his ſight. He modeſtly cloſes his learned and intereſting work upon Statues with the following pathetic apology:

Forcé par la perte de ma vue de quitter la plume, je vais vivre dans un repos auquel les lettres ne perdront rien. Je crains même que cet ouvrage ne ſoit une preuve que j'aurois du m'y livrer plutôt, d'autant plus que mon état ne me permet point de revoir & corriger ce que [347] j'ecrivis il y a dix ans, & que je différois toujours de publier dans l'eſpérance trompeuſe de pouvoir y donner encore la derniere main. —
De l'Uſage des Statues, p. 491.

The preface to the book I have juſt cited contains ſome pleaſing letters between the author and his brother, an officer of diſtinction, whom he had the misfortune to ſurvive. The abbé was an honorary member of the French Academy; and he lived on terms of great intimacy with Monteſquieu, as I diſcover from a little volume of letters that he publiſhed ſoon after the deceaſe, and with the name of his illuſtrious friend.

Appendix A.5.26 NOTE XXVI. Ver. 500. Each changeful feature, and her inmoſt ſoul.

Though the eager enthuſiaſtic ſpirit of Winkelman expoſed him occaſionally to deluſion and to ridicule, there is ſuch a portion of ſolid and of ſplendid merit in his great work, the Hiſtory of Art, as can hardly fail to confer upon its author an honourable immortality. The excellencies and the failings of this animated writer are candidly diſplayed in the eulogy inſcribed to him by his accompliſhed friend Heyne, the profeſſor of Gottingen. In the copious tide of tranſlations from the German which has recently enriched the literature of our country, it is matter of ſurpriſe and regret to thoſe who delight in the arts, that the works of Winkelman have not yet made their appearance. He has found creditable tranſlators both in France and Italy. Time will probably produce a collection of all his different works on deſign, in a becoming Engliſh dreſs, with a ſuitable account of a writer whoſe productions [348] are replete with learning, taſte, and genius; and whoſe perſonal hiſtory is particularly intereſting.

What an incentive to ſtudious youth in the humble claſſes of life, to trace the ſon of a German cobler overcoming the perplexities of indigent obſcurity, and qualifying himſelf to inſtruct the connoiſſeurs of Italy, and to preſide over the antiquities of Rome. He was born at Stendal in Brandenburgh, 1717; and ſtabbed at Trieſte by an itinerant Italian, who vainly hoped to rob him of ſome valuable metals that he had received as a preſent on his viſit to the court of Vienna.

Winkelman, notwithſtanding the many wounds he received, lived long enough to forgive his aſſaſſin, and to bequeath his property to his illuſtrious friend and patron cardinal Alexander Albani.

Appendix A.5.27 NOTE XXVII. Ver. 520. And charm'd thy ſpirit thro' the ſhades of death.

The delight and advantages ariſing from a lively and liberal paſſion for the fine arts were never more forcibly exemplified than in the youthful, and in the declining days, of that accompliſhed nobleman the Comte de Caylus. Born of a very illuſtrious family in 1692, he began his career of public life as a ſoldier; but on the peace of Raſtadt, he amuſed his active ſpirit by travelling to Italy. In the courſe of his excurſion, he made a frank offer of his ſword in defence of Malta, then threatened by the Turks: the alarm of that iſland paſſed away, and the count returned to Paris. The love of travelling, and a paſſionate attachment to the ſtudy of antiquities, now induced him to relinquiſh his military profeſſion. He wiſhed to viſit the ſcenes of ancient art, and [349] ſeized the opportunity of embarking for the eaſt with a new embaſſador from his country to Conſtantinople. As they ſtopt at Smyrna, he was eager to ſurvey the ruins of Epheſus; their diſtance from Smyrna was only the journey of a day. His friends endeavoured to diſſuade him from attempting it, by diſplaying the danger he muſt incur, as the country was infeſted by a mercileſs banditti, under a formidable chief, Caracayali.

But in the Comte de Caylus (ſays his Eulogiſt) fear was always ſubordinate to deſire. He accompliſhed his wiſhes by an adventurous device: clothing himſelf in a ſimple linen dreſs, and taking with him nothing that could tempt rapacity, he ſet forth with two of the banditti, who were ſuffered, from motives of public apprehenſion, to viſit Smyrna occaſionally. He had made a bargain with theſe men, on a promiſe of paying them liberally on his ſafe return. They conducted him, with an interpreter, to their captain. Caracayali, pleaſed with his animated viſitor, took a pleaſure in gratifying his curioſity. He told him there were ruins ſtill nearer, that deſerved his attention; and to convey him thither with the utmoſt celerity, he ſupplied him with two of the fineſt Arabian courſers. The Comte ſeemed to be tranſported by magic to the intereſting ſpot: it preſented to him the ruins of Colopton. After enjoying that unexpected and delightful ſcene, he returned to paſs the night in a fort that formed the reſidence of Caracayali; and the next day he devoted to the ruins of Epheſus. Of the ſtate in which he found the famous temple of Diana, he has left a memoir: but the nature of my preſent work does not allow me to dwell on the extended life and numerous productions of this engaging character: I haſten to ſpeak of his latter days. After returning to France, and viſiting London more than once; after paſſing many years in active, though ſedentary life, in various compoſitions, particularly his Academical Memoirs on different Branches of Painting and Sculpture, and his very comprehenſive [350] Collection of Antiquities, this amiable practical ſtudent, and munificent patron of art, began in 1764 to ſhew that his robuſt frame was tending to diſſolution. He triumphed for ſome time over the corporeal miſeries of decaying nature, by the exertions of an active, enlightened, and affectionate ſpirit:—"Il viſita," (ſays his eloquent eulogiſt M. le Beau, from whom I have drawn this brief account of his intereſting hero,) ‘il viſita ſes amis, les ſçavans, les artiſtes, dont il alloit animer les travaux, tandis qu'il mouroit lui-même..... Tout étoit mort en lui, mais l'amour des lettres reſpiroit encore.—Il expira 1765. L'Academie, les arts, le monde literaire, ont perdu leur plus vif encouragement, une reſource toujours active, & leur plus zélé bienfaiteur.—Eloge Hiſtorique de M. le Comte de Caylus.

Appendix A.5.28 NOTE XXVIII. Ver. 532. But which may beſt befriend art, ſcience, truth, and life.

The incident which gave riſe to the cloſing verſes of this epiſtle is mentioned by M. de Caylus himſelf: in his Antiquities he expreſſes his gratitude to an unknown Engliſh gentleman, who had ſurpriſed him with an unexpected preſent of ſeveral valuable works of art, as a tribute of reſpect to his beneficent character, taking at the ſame time the greateſt precautions that his own beneficence might remain anonymous.

This Engliſh gentleman was, I believe, the late Mr. Hollis, whoſe life was uncommonly devoted to the continual exerciſe of refined liberality.

Many readers will ſmile at the romantic ſpirit of the wiſh which concludes this Epiſtle, and which, however ſuggeſted by conſiderate humanity [351] and genuine patriotiſm, the temper of the times is ſo likely to realize.

Yet war is one of thoſe univerſally afflicting and univerſally execrated evils, to which both the ſpirit and the letter of Chriſtianity ſeem to promiſe a perfect antidote:—its efficacy as ſuch is certainly not viſible at preſent; but it is ſtill a comfort to a humane and contemplative mind to reflect, that its operation, however ſlow, muſt be ultimately ſucceſsful.

END OF THE NOTES ON THE FIFTH EPISTLE.

Appendix A.6 NOTES ON THE SIXTH EPISTLE.

[]

Appendix A.6.1 NOTE I. Ver. 60. THE ſimple grandeur of her ſeaman's heart.

The character of the Britiſh ſeaman is perhaps the moſt perfect and pre-eminent of all profeſſional characters; or, in other words, the character poſſeſſes, in the higheſt degree, the peculiar and varied excellencies which the profeſſion requires: yet, though it is univerſally allowed that no claſs of men have been more zealous or ſucceſsful in the purſuit of glory, perhaps none have been ſo ſcantily requited with thoſe memorials of merit, which are neceſſary to make glory what Thucydides very happily called it—a poſſeſſion for ever. May the juſtice and ſpirit of the nation be animated to ſuch a completion of the projected naval monument, as may moſt gratify our preſent heroes, and moſt happily produce to our country, in a future age, a ſimilar ſucceſſion of defenders!

[354]Demoſthenes has eloquently diſplayed this grand uſe of public monuments, in cloſing his Oration for the liberty of the Rhodians:

[...].

The Abbé Guaſco has made ſome juſt remarks on the ſtatues of antiquity equally applicable to this intereſting ſubject:

Il ſeroit à ſouhaiter que ceux à qui la diſpenſation des recompenſes et des temoignages d'eſtime publique eſt confiée, ne perdiſſent jamais de vue les idées des anciens à cet égard. Chez eux c'étoit l'interet même de la patrie qui exigeoit et reclamoit les monumens honorifiques, dûs au mérite et à la vertu.

Ces gages immortels de la reconnoiſſance nationale furent une des principales ſources de ces vertus et de cet heroiſme dont l'hiſtoire ancienne nous offre des traits ſi frequents.—

De l'Uſage des Statues, p. 237.

Appendix A.6.2 NOTE II. Ver. 74. Which even agony has ſmil'd to hear.

The praiſe, ſo ſingularly deſerved, and ſo tenderly beſtowed, was excited by a few remarkable productions; the more remarkable, as the dear ſufferer was, at the time, reduced to ſuch decrepitude, that he was obliged to endure a great increaſe of pain whenever he indulged his fancy in a brief, conſtrained, and haſty uſe of the pencil! Yet under theſe ſevere diſadvantages he executed ſome original deſigns that are thought, by leſs partial judges, to promiſe great future excellence, if Heaven graciouſly reſtores him from a ſtate of the moſt calamitous and complicated ſufferings, which he has now ſupported, for more [355] than two years, with the mildeſt magnanimity. My reader has an opportunity of judging if I ſpeak too partially of the deſigns executed by this dear invalid, as the Death of Demoſthenes (which he drew, reclining himſelf on the couch of pain, for the affectionate purpoſe of decorating this Poem) is one of thoſe I allude to. He will at the ſame time have the candour to recollect that this deſign is literally the production of a youth ſeverely obſtructed in the exerciſe of early talent; and that ‘the ſculptor's art (by which is not meant merely finiſhing his compoſitions in marble, but forming, with correctneſs, figures in any material) demands infinite labour and patience (and maturity of life) to carry it to perfection.’

I borrow the words of an admirable little Treatiſe, intitled "Thoughts on Outline, Sculpture, &c." by Mr. George Cumberland, an author who can employ, with alternate and maſterly command, both the pen and the pencil.

Appendix A.6.3 NOTE III. Ver. 144. And ſighing, bids the imperfect paean cloſe.

I could wiſh (yet I muſt not expect ſuch a wiſh can be realized) that all readers who may be ſubject to affliction like that which has made the cloſe of this Poem ſo different from what the author meant it to be when the Work was begun, might find, in the peruſal of it, a lenient relief ſimilar to what I have found, when I could force myſelf to purſue a compoſition frequently interrupted by paternal anxiety, and frequently reſumed from the influence of the ſame powerful affection, to gratify an intelligent and generous invalid. He often requeſted me to purſue my Work at a little diſtance from him, that it might ſave me from ſympathiſing too intenſely in pangs that I could [356] not relieve. Sometimes I could obey his tender injunctions; and ſometimes I have been almoſt on the point of exclaiming, in the pathetic words of Virgil, ‘—— Bis patriae cecidere manus.’ But at laſt, through a long viciſſitude of hopes and fears for health infinitely dearer to me than my own, I am arrived at the cloſe of the Work which this beloved promoter of my ſuſpended ſtudies has ſo kindly wiſhed me to complete. I deliver it to the candour of the Public; not inſenſible of its imperfections, yet with feelings of gratitude to the great Giver of all gifts, that, under the bittereſt diſquietude and diſtreſs of heart, he has ſtill granted me ſuch powers of application, as have enabled me to ſooth the corporeal anguiſh of a moſt meritorious and long-ſuffering child, and to beguile many, many hours of paternal affection.

THE END OF THE NOTES.

Appendix B POSTSCRIPT TO MR. FLAXMAN.

[]

WHEN the tide of affliction begins to flow, how dark and deep is the current!

In a few days after I had diſpatched to the preſs the MS. of the introductory letter prefixed to this Poem, I received the affecting intelligence that my enchanting and ineſtimable friend Cowper had expired; and your beloved diſciple followed, within a week, that dear departed genius, who had honoured his childhood with the tendereſt regard.

I have now to thank you, my excellent compaſſionate friend, for a very haſty, but a very kind viſit to the dear deceaſed object of our well-deſerved affection and regret.

I am not afraid of your thinking that I exaggerate his merit, and ſpeak too long or too loudly on a moſt dutiful child and a moſt diligent diſciple: to us, indeed, his juvenile talents and virtues had endeared him to ſuch a degree, that our hearts, I believe, are perfectly in uniſon, while they re-echo his praiſe.

[358]If the mournful delight that I take in commemorating his excellence has tempted me to obtrude too much of his commendation on the eye of the Public, I truſt that the benevolent ſpirit of my country will indulgently accept the following apology:

Appendix B.1 SONNET.

England! kind parent! Freedom's fav'rite truſt!
Honour's prime pupil! Nature's nobleſt care!
Thy feelings rapid as thy virtues rare!
Blame not my pride, that o'er the filial duſt
Of youth, now claiming the ſepulchral buſt,
I aſk thy ſpirit in my grief to ſhare!
For like thy heart and mind His truly were—
Brave, modeſt, tender, charitable, juſt!
His docile genius with fond joy I train'd
To love thy glory, and thy faith revere;
Nor will I murmur, though my frequent tear
Proclaims the Dead, unutterably dear:
So may I ſhare with him, what he has gain'd,
The recompence of Heaven for anguiſh well ſuſtain'd!
THE END.

Appendix C

Printed by A. Strahan, Printers Street, London.

Appendix D ERRATA.

[]
Notes
*
See NOTE I.
*
See NOTE II.
*
See NOTE III.
See NOTE IV.
*
See NOTE V.
*
See NOTE VI.
*
See NOTE VII.
*
See NOTE I.
See NOTE II.
*
See NOTE III.
*
See NOTE IV.
*
See NOTE V.
See NOTE VI.
*
See NOTE VII.
*
See NOTE VIII.
See NOTE IX.
*
See NOTE X.
*
See NOTE XI.
*
See NOTE XII.
*
See NOTE XIII.
*
See NOTE XIV.
See NOTE XV.
*
See NOTE XVI.
*
See NOTE I.
*
See NOTE II.
*
See NOTE III.
*
See NOTE IV.
*
See NOTE V.
*
See NOTE VI.
*
See NOTE VII.
*
See NOTE VIII.
*
See NOTE IX.
*
See NOTE X.
*
See NOTE XI.
*
See NOTE XII.
*
See NOTE XIII.
See NOTE XIV.
See NOTE XV.
*
See NOTE XVI.
*
See NOTE XVII.
*
See NOTE XVIII.
*
See NOTE XIX.
*
See NOTE I.
*
See NOTE II.
See NOTE III.
*
See NOTE IV.
*
See NOTE V.
*
See NOTE VI.
*
See NOTE VII.
See NOTE VIII.
*
See NOTE IX.
See NOTE X.
*
See NOTE XI.
*
See NOTE XII.
*
See NOTE XIII.
*
See NOTE XIV.
*
See NOTE XV.
*
See NOTE XVI.
*
See NOTE XVII.
See NOTE XVIII.
See NOTE XIX.
*
See NOTE XX.
*
See NOTE XXI.
*
See NOTE XXII.
*
See NOTE XXIII.
See NOTE XXIV.
*
See NOTE XXV.
*
See NOTE XXVI.
*
See NOTE XXVII.
*
See NOTE I.
*
See NOTE II.
*
See NOTE III.
*
See NOTE IV.
*
See NOTE V.
*
See NOTE VI.
*
See NOTE VII.
*
See NOTE VIII.
*
See NOTE IX.
See NOTE X.
See NOTE XI.
*
See NOTE XII.
*
See NOTE XIII.
See NOTE XIV.
*
See NOTE XV.
*
See NOTE XVI.
*
See NOTE XVII.
*
See NOTE XVIII.
See NOTE XIX.
See NOTE XX.
See NOTE XXI.
*
See NOTE XXII.
*
See NOTE XXIII.
*
See NOTE XXIV.
*
See NOTE XXV.
*
See NOTE XXVI.
*
See NOTE XXVII.
*
See NOTE XXVIII.
*
See NOTE I.
*
See NOTE II.
*
See NOTE III.
*
[...]. PAUSANIAS, p. 101. edit. Kuhnii.
[...]. STRABO, Lib. xvii. p. 1171. edit. 1707.
[...].
*

Mr. de Caylus has diſtinguiſhed the ſtatue of remote antiquity from that of a later time in the following remark on Aegyptian antiquities:

‘Il ne faut pas confondre la ſtatue de Memnon, dont parle Pline, avec celle qui ſubſiſte, et qui a inſpiré une ſi grande curioſité aux voyageurs anciens et modernes; non ſeulement cette dernière eſt coloſſale, mais elle eſt de granite. D'ailleurs elle étoit antique à l'egard de Pline, puiſqu' elle étoit placée de ſon tems dans l'endroit qu'elle occupe aujourdhui, c'eſt-à- dire, hors de la ville de Thèbes, aſſez près des tombeaux des anciens rois d' Aegypte, et qu'elle avoit été élevée avant la conquête, que les Perſes firent de ce pays; tandis que la ſtatue de baſalte que Pline preſente comme un objet beaucoup moins conſidérable, étoit conſacrée dans un temple de Sérapis, dont le culte n'a été introduit en Aegypte que ſous les Ptolémées. Antiquités de M. de CAYLUS, tom. v. p. 13.
*
[...]. STRABO, p. 1167.
*
[...]. DIODORUS SICULUS.
*
‘Ceterum Germanicus aliis quoque miraculis intendit animum; quorum praecipua fuere Memnonis ſa [...]ea effigies, ubi radiis ſolis icta eſt vocalem ſonum reddens.’ TACITUS.
‘Des voyageurs modernes m'ont aſſuré avoir été temoins de ce phénomene. Il n'eſt pas étonnant que dans des ſiècles où la croyance en la divinité du ſoleil étoit dominante, il fût regardé comme ſurnaturel, et que ce bruit fût trouvé harmonieux. Mais dans un tems où la phyſique eſt mieux connue, il s'expliquera naturellement. La raréfaction de l'atmoſphere et la dilatation des ſolides cauſée par la chaleur des rayons du ſoleil, peuvent fournir d'autres examples de cette nature, et ils ne ſeront point embellis par la prevention que fait naitre la ſuperſtition.’ De l'Uſage des Statues, p. 174.
*
‘Fingere ex argilla ſimilitudines, Dibutades Sicyonius Figulus primus invenit Corinthi filiae operâ; quae capta amore juvenis, illo abeunte peregre, umbram ex facie ejus ad lucernam in pariete lineis circumſcripſit: quibus pater ejus impreſſa argilla typum fecit, & cum caeteris fictilibus induratum igni propoſuit; eumque ſervatum in Nymphaeo donec Corinthum Mummius everteret tradunt. PLIN. lib. 35. cap. 12.
[...]. ATHENAGORAS, edit. Oxon. p. 60.
*
Clemens Alexandrinus, who gives a ſimilar account of ſeveral ancient idols, informs us that theſe rude ſymbols were gradually exchanged for ſtatues of the human form, which acquired the appellation [...].
[...]. PAUSANIAS, p. 579.
*
"Sine effigie rudis palus et informe lignum." TERTULLIAN.
*
‘Ainſi l'invention de la ſtatuaire remonte juſqu'au tems de cet Apis qui finit vers l'an 3932 de la période Julienne, a-peu-près mil ſept cent ſoixante dix huit ans avant la naiſſance de Jeſus Chriſt. D'HANCARVILLE, Antiq. Etruſ. tom. iii. p. 21.
*
[...]. AESCHYLUS.
[...]. PAUSANIAS. p. 76.

M. de Caylus has inſerted in the firſt volume of his Antiquities a vignette, formed from a monument found in Athens, alluding to this race.

[...]. P. 806.
*
‘Stultus igitur et amens, qui adorat quod ipſe fabricavit, cujus artificii deteſtabilis et inepti auctor fuit Prometheus, patruo Jovis Japeto natus. Nam cum primum Jupiter, ſummo potitus imperio, tanquam deum ſe conſtituere vellet ac templa condere, et quaereret aliquem qui humanam figuram poſſet exprimere, tunc Prometheus extitit, qui hominis effigiem de pingui luto figuraret ita veriſimiliter, ut novitas ac ſubtilitas artis miraculo eſſet. Denique illum et ſui temporis homines & poſtea poetae tanquam fictorem veri ac vivi hominis prodiderunt, et nos quoties fabrefacta ſigna laudamus vivere illa et ſpirare dicimus, et hic quidem auctor fuit fictilium ſimulacrorum. LACTANTIUS, tom. ii. p. 15. edit. 1748.
*
‘Dicemus tamen, quod nobis hac de re in mentem venerit. Supra audivimus, veterum quoſdam referre Prometheum ex Aegypto in occidentem delatum Oſiridis regis conſiliarium fuiſſe. Oſiridem vero non modo per Hermetem artes et diſciplinas repperiſſe, ſed et ob magna beneficia inter caelites relatum deum habitum eſſe, Jovemque ſaepe veteribus deſignare, ſuo quoque loco, ubi de Aegyptiorum philoſophia actum eſt, demonſtratum dedimus. Cum itaque fabula dicat, Jovem ob ignis furtum et doloſa munera Mercurium juſſiſſe vinculis ligare Prometheum, conjicimus inde, Prometheum ab Oſiride inventionum quas mire occultaſſe ſupra docuimus factum participem, cum praeter rationem atque utilitatem Aegyptiorum regis peregrinum populum novis artibus et ſcientiis erudiret, per Mercurium (quem Oſiridis quoque ſummum conſiliarium fuiſſe ſupra oſtendimus) captum cum doloſis & contemptis muneribus fruſtra regem placare tentaſſet, in carcerem durum conjectum, miriſque aerumnis atque cruciatibus dies nocteſque vexatum fuiſſe, cuſtoditum forte a potenti quodam miniſtro vel praefecto regis Aegypt ii, quo interfecto ab Hercule ex vinculis tandem liberatus eſt. Nihil horum eſt quod non fabulae circumſtantiis exacte reſpondeat, et priſcorum temporum conditioni congruat: pro conjectura tamen hanc explicationem fabulae Promethei tantum venditamus, et lubenter quemvis ſuo ſenſu abundare patimur: id unum certum exiſtimamus, explicationes philoſophicas fabulae hujus ſerius fuiſſe excogitatas, ita enim cum omnibus fere fabulis eveniſſe, prudentes mythologiae veteris exploratores facile conjicient, cum tanta acumina phyſica et metaphyſica in priſco orbe, in quo hae fabulae primum enatae ſunt, quaeri non debeant. Unde quae Platonici de Promethei atque Epimethei fabulis garriunt, ineptae nugae miſere fabulae accommodatae eſſe recte cenſentur. Hiſt. Philoſoph. vol. i. p. 372.
*
[...].

"Prometheum Deucalionis patrem ſeptimo anno Moſeos natum eſſe narrat Cyrillus."

Nota in LACTANTIUM, tom. i. p. 159.

*
‘Semiramis Aſſyriorum regina, cum ei circa cultum capitis ſui occupatae nuntiatum eſſet Babylonem defeciſſe, altera parte crinium adhuc ſoluta, protinus ad eam expugnandam cucurrit; nec prius decorem capillorum in ordinem, quam tantam urbem in poteſtatem ſuam redegit. Quocirca ſtatua ejus Babylone poſita eſt illo habitu, quo ad ultionem exigendam celeritate praecipiti tetendit. VALERIUS MAXIMUS, lib. 9. c. 3.
[...]. AELIAN, Var. Hiſt. lib. 7. c. 1.
*
[...] AELIAN, edit. Perizonii, p. 911.
*
‘Fra' ſuoi allievi ſi contraddiſtinſe un ſuo nipote da alcuni detto calo, da altri attalo, il quale invento tra le altre coſe la ſega e'l compaſſo; ma Dedalo ne concepi ſi nera geloſia, che l'ucciſe.—Memorie degli Architetti Antichi e Moderni, tomo i. p. 13. Parma, 1781.
*
Metamorph. lib. viii. Artis Amatoriae, lib.ii.
*
[...]. DIODORUS SICULUS, lib. 4.

A curious proof of the antiquity and excellence of vapour-baths!

*
‘Daedale eſt un nom Syrien, dont les racines ſe retrouvent dans les deux mots Hebreux dai (prepoſition qui de même que da, en Grec, augmente le ſeus du mot qu'elle précede) et dal, pauvre. Daedale eſt done l'emblême de la pauvretè, du beſoin, première ſource neceſſaire des arts.....On reconnoit manifeſtement le genie oriental dans cette fiction moraſe. —M. POINSINET DE SIVRY, in a note to his ſplendid and elaborate edition of Pliny, in Latin and French, twelve vols. quarto.

It is remarkable that Pliny does not mention the elder Daedalus as a ſculptor, but celebrates him as the inventor of the ſaw, the hatchet, the level, the gimblet, iſinglas, and glue.

[...]. STEPHANUS BYZANTINUS, De Urbibus, edit. 1694, p. 379.
*
[...]. PAUSANIAS, p. 121.
*
[...]. EUSTATHIUS apud Junium.
[...]. PAUSANIAS, p, 250.
*
[...].—ARRIAN, de Expedit. Alexandri. lib. iii.
*
[...]. PAUSANIAS, p. 181.
*
Traduction des 34, 35, et 36 Livres de Pline, avec des Notes par Etienne Falconet, tom. i. p. 85.
*
‘Quid tam diſtortum et elaboratum, quam eſt ille Diſcobolos Myronis? Si quis tamen ut parum rectum, improbet opus, nonne is ab intellectu artis abſuerit, in qua vel praecipue laudabilis eſt illa ipſa novitas et difficultas. QUINTILIAN, lib. 2. c. 13.
*
I have ſometimes thought that a new and more expreſſive reading might be introduced in the ſecond line of this Greek epigram, thus: [...]:’ but I ſubmit the fancied emendation to thoſe readers who are particularly familiar with the moſt admirable of languages. If they approve the ſlight change in the orthography, which makes a conſiderable difference in the ſenſe, I would alter the Engliſh verſion of the couplet in the following manner:
Such as, when flying with the whirlwind's haſte,
In your foot's point your eager ſoul you plac'd, &c.
*
[...]. STRABO, p. 944.
*
‘Venere autem et in certamen laudatiſſimi, quanquam diverſis aetatibus geniti, quoniam fecerant Amazonas, quae cum in templo Epheſiae Dianae dicarentur, placuit eligi probatiſſimam ipſorum artificum, qui praeſentes erant, judicio; cum apparuit eam eſſe, quam omnes ſecundam a ſua quiſque judicaſſent. Haec eſt Polycleti, proxima ab ea Phidiae, tertia Cteſilae, quarta Cydonis, quinta Phragnonis. PLIN. lib. 34. c. 8.
[...]. STRABO, p. 571.
*
[...]. GALENUS apud Junium, in Catalogo Artificum, p. 168.
*
Antiquités Etruſques, Grecques, et Romaines, tom. iv. p. 137.
*
[...]. AELIAN. Var. Hiſt. lib. xiv. c. 8.
*
[...],
[...]
[...].
[...]
[...].
[...],
[...],
[...].
TZETZES, chil. 8.193.
*
[...]. ‘Phidiam illum, quem fictorem probum fuiſſe tradit memoria, vidi ipſe in clypeo Minervae, quae arcibus Athenienſibus praeſidet, oris ſui ſimilitudinem ita colligaſſe, ut ſi quis artificis voluiſſet inde imaginem ſeparare, ſoluta compage, ſimulac totius incolumitas interiret.—Sic Apulcius tranſtulit hunc locum deſumtum ex Ariſtotele de Mundo.—JUNIUS, Catal. Artif. p. 159.
*
Phidias Homeri verſibus egregio dicto alluſit; ſimulacro enim Jovis Olympii perfecto, quo nullum praeſtantius aut admirabilius humanae fabricae manus fecit, interrogatus ab amico, quonam mentem ſuam dirigens vultum Jovis propemodum ex ipſo coelo petitum, eboris lineamentis eſſet amplexus, illis ſe verſibus quaſi magiſtris uſum reſpondit:
[...]
[...]
[...].
VALERIUS MAXIMUS, l. iii. c. 7.
*
Lib. xlv. c. 28.
[...].—CEDRENUS, p. 255.
*
[...]. The commentator on Pauſanias, to elucidate theſe three Greek titles of Cupid, refers his reader to the Grecian Phurnutus "De Natura Deorum:" but on conſulting Phurnutus, I find no light, but rather the "darkneſs viſible" of ridiculous etymologies.
*
‘Sed in maxima dignatione Cn. Domitii delubro in Circo Flaminio Neptunus ipſe, et Thetis, atque Achilles, Nereides ſupra Delphinos, et Cete et Hippocampos fedentes. Item Tritones choruſque Phorci, et Priſtes, ac multa alia marina, omnia ejuſdem manus, praeclarum opus, etiamſi totius vitae fuiſſet.—PLIN. lib. xxxvi. c. 5.
*
[...].—CALLISTRATI Statuae, p. 893.
*
‘Tunc Arthemiſia Rhodo capta, principibus occiſis, trophaeum in urbe Rhodo ſuae victoriae conſtituit, Aeneaſque duas ſtatuas fecit, unam Rhodiorum civitatis, alteram ſuae imaginis et iſtam figuravit Rhodiorum civitati ſtigmata imponentem. Poſtea autem Rhodii religione impediti, quod nefas eſt trophaea dedicata removeri, circa eum locum aedificium ſtruxerunt, et id erecta Graja ſtatione texerunt, ne quis poſſet aſpicere, et id [...] vocitari juſſerunt.—VITRUVIUS, lib. ii. edit. Galiani, p. 74.
*
Ut quidam artifices noſtro faciunt ſaeculo
Qui Pretium operibus majus inveniunt, novo
Si marmori adſcripſerint Praxitelem ſuo,
Detrito Myrone argento.
PHAEDRUS.
‘Praxitelis aetatem inter ſtatuarios diximus, qui marmoris gloria ſuperavit etiam ſemet. Opera ejus ſunt Athenis in Ceramico; ſed ante omnia et non ſolum Praxitelis, verum et in toto orbe terrarum Venus, quam ut viderent, multi navigaverunt Gnidum. Duas fecerat, ſimulque vendebat; alteram velata ſpecie, quam ob id quidem praetulerunt optione, quorum conditio erat Coi, cum alteram etiam eodem pretio detuliſſet; ſeverum id ac pudicum arbitrantes. Rejectam Gnidii emerunt, immenſa differentia famae. Voluit eam poſtea a Gnidiis mercari rex Nicomedes, totum aes civitatis alienum (quod erat ingens) diſſoluturum ſe promittens. Omnia perpeti maluere; nec immerito. Illo enim ſigno Praxiteles nobilitavit Gnidum. Aedicula ejus tota aperitur ut conſpici poſſit undique effigies deae; favente ipſa, ut creditur, facto, nec minor ex quacunque parte admiratio eſt.—PLIN. lib. xxxvi. c. 5.
*
Both Pliny and Quintilian have recorded this bon mot. The latter cites it as a model of oratorical urbanity: ‘Ex hiſtoria etiam ducere urbanitatem, eruditum: ut Cicero fecit, cum ei teſtem in judicio verris roganti dixiſſet Hortenſius: 'Non intelligo haec aenigmata.' 'Atqui debes, inquit, cum ſphingem domi habeas.' Acceperat autem ille a Verre ſphingem aeneam magnae pecuniae.—QUINTIL, lib. vi. c. 3.
*
‘Praxitelis filius Cephiſſodorus rei et artis haeres ſuit. Cujus laudatum eſt Pergami ſymplegma, ſignum nobile, digitis corpori verius, quam marmori impreſſis. Romae ejus opera ſunt Latona in Palatii delubro; Venus in Aſnii Pollionis monumentis; et intra Octaviae Porticus, in Junonis aede, Aeſculapius ac Diana. Scopae laus cum his certat.—PLIN. lib. xxxvi. c. 5.
*
‘Euphranorem admirandum facit, quod et caeteris optimis ſtudiis inter praecipuos, et pingendi fingendique idem mirus artifex fuit.—QUINTIL. lib. xii. c. 10.
‘Eminuit longe ante omnes Euphranor Iſthmius.....docilis et laborioſus ante omnes, et in quocunque genere excellens et ſibi aequalis. Hic primus videtur expreſſiſſe dignitates heroum, et uſurpaſſe ſymmetriam: ſed fuit univerſitate corporum exilior, capitibus articuliſque grandior. Volumina quoque compoſuit de ſymmetria et coloribus.—PLIN. lib. xxxv. c. 11.
*
‘Euphranoris Alexander Paris eſt: in quo laudatur, quod omnia ſimul intelligantur, judex Dearum, amator Helenae, et tamen Achillis interfector.’ (Falconet has cenſured Pliny for this deſcription: whether juſtly or not, let our artiſts decide.) ‘Fecit....et Virtutem et Graeciam, utraſque coloſſeas....item Alexandrum et Philippum in quadrigis.’Plin. lib. xxxiv. c. 8.
‘Lyſippum Sicyonium Duris negat, Tullius fuiſſe diſcipulum affirmat: ſed primo aerarium fabrum, audendi rationem cepiſſe pictoris Eupompi reſponſo: eum enim interrogatum quem ſequeretur antecedentium, dixiſſe, demonſtrata hominum multitudine, naturam ipſam imitandam eſſe, non artificem.—PLIN. lib. xxxiv. c. 8.
*
— Lyſippi Jupiter iſta,
Tranſivit quadraginta cubita altus Tarento.
LUCILLIUS Sat. lib. xvi. apud Ronium.

Strabo ſpeaks of this Jupiter as the ſecond of coloſſal figures, in magnitude inferior only to the Coloſſus of Rhodes.

Plin. lib. xxxiv. c. 8.
*
‘Hic eſt Metellus Macedonicus: qui porticus, quae fuere circumdatae duabus aedibus ſine inſcriptione poſitis, quae nunc Octaviae porticibus ambiuntur, fecerat: quique hanc turmam ſtatuarum equeſtrium, quae frontem aedium ſpectant, hodieque maximum ornamentum ejus loci, ex Macedonia detulit. Cujus turmae hanc cauſam referunt: Magnum Alexandrum impetraſſe a Lyſippo, ſingulari talium auctore operum, ut eorum equitum, qui ex ipſius turma apud Granicum ſtumen ceciderant, expreſſa ſimilitudine figurarum, faceret ſtatuas et ipſius quoque iis interponeret.—VELLEIUS PATERCULUS, lib. i.
*
[...].—PLUTARCHUS, de Iſide et Oſiride, p. 60. edit. Cantab. 1744.
*
‘Hominis autem imaginem gypſo e facie ipſâ primus omnium expreſſit, cerâque in eam formam gypſi infuſâ emendare inſtituit Lyſiſtratus Sicyonius frater Lyſippi, de quo diximus. Sic et ſimilitudinem reddere inſtituit: ante eum quam pulcherrimas facere ſtudebant. Idem et de ſignis effigiem exprimere invenit. Crevitque res in tantum utnulla ſigna ſtatuaeve ſine argilla fierent.’ Quo apparet antiquiorem hanc fuiſſe ſcientiam quam fundendi aeris. Lib. xxxv. c. 12.—So ſtood the paſſage till the Paris editor of Pliny in twelve quartos made the following alteration: "ut nulla ſigna ſuâ ſine argillâ fierent." By changing the ſuperfluous word ſtatuaeve into ſuâ, he hoped to rectify the weakneſs of the paſſage: but I apprehend another very ſlight alteration may improve it much more. Inſtead of ſine agilla, I would read ſine arte illâ conſidering thoſe words as expreſſing the invention of Lyſiſtratus, and giving a little better ſenſe to the cloſe of the paſſage, ‘antiquiorem hanc fuiſſe ſcientiam, quam fundendi aeris;’ which may then ſignify that this practice of caſting the real features in plaiſter was prior to the formation of perfect portraits in bronze.
*
‘Ante onines autem in admiratione ſuit Solis Coloſſus Rhodi, quem fecerat Chares Lindins, Lyſippi ſupra dicti diſcipulus. Septuaginta cubitorum altitudinis fuit. Hoc ſimulacrum poſt quinquageſimum ſextum annum terrae motu proſtratum, ſed jacens quoque miraculo eſt. Pauci pollicem ejus amplectuntur. Majores ſunt digiti quam pleraeque ſtatuae. Vaſti ſpecus hiant defractis membris, ſpectantur intus magnae molis ſaxa, quorum pondere ſtabiliverat conſtituens. Duodecim annis tradunt effectum CCC talentis, quae contulerant ex apparatu regis Demetrii relicto, morae taedio. Sunt alii minores hoc in eadem urbe coloſſi centum numero; ſed ubicunque ſinguli fuiſſent nobilitaturi locum,—PLIN. lib. xxxiv.
*
[...].—CONSTANT. de Adminiſ. Imp. edit. 1640, p. 45.
*
‘Chares a Lyſippo ſtatuas facere non iſto modo didicit, ut Lyſippus caput oſtenderet Myronis, brachia Praxitelis, pectus Polycleti: ſed omnia coram magiſtrum facientem videbat: caeterorum opera vel ſuaſponte conſiderare poterat.—Rhet. ad Herennium, lib. iv.
*
[...].—ATHENAEUS, p. 201.
*
[...].—THEOPHRASTUS, edit. Newton, p. 225.
*
Lib. xxxiv.
*
[...].—ATHENAEUS, p. 296.
*
Eſſay on Medals, vol. i. p. 221.
*
Lib. ii. de Aſſe.
*
"Dans le Traité des Femmes Vertueuſes."
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