That, which he hath writ, Is with such iudgement, labour'd, and distill'd Despite the cavalier treatment of the pronouns, it is clear enough that what is here said of the Poetaster Virgil is this: something out of his works might easily be discovered apt for use in all the glad or sad experiences of life, though the word 'serious' in the fifth verse indicates that for the graver exigences in particular this poet has wisdom for us. Now the question is not primarily, do these lines, according to our prepossessions and experience, apply more strictly to Shakespeare or to Chapman than to Virgil? but, do they, according to the prepossessions, experience, and habit of thought of Ben Jonson, apply at all to Virgil? Ward sees nothing here that may not aptly be said of the author of the Georgics, though I suppose most modern scholars would shrink from such a characterization of Virgil's work. One might say off-hand, for instance, that Horace is more generally quotable than Virgil. Yet is it not in the little social exigences that Horace offers the bon mot or the sly bit of worldly wisdom, while in the more serious moments, if we were still classical students, like our fathers, would not 'grave Maro' prove first among the Latins for pithy and beautiful precept? Moreover, we should recollect the reverence, the adoration, for Virgil which was the literary legacy of the Renaissance to modern times. In the Middle Ages, of course, Virgil was not only first of poets, but philosopher and magician as well; and the guide of Dante was still mighty in the day of Sir Philip Sidney and of Ben Jonson. By men taught from childhood to regard him as the fountain-head of poetic wisdom, as well as of poetic beauty, almost no praise of Virgil could be deemed extravagant. Lines 129-135 also have been regarded as inapplicable to Virgil: His learning labours not the fchoole-like gloffe, Of all the worth and firft effects of artes. This purports to be Horace's opinion of Virgil's learning: can this be accepted as a justifiable judgment, in Jonson's view and in our own? Some will immediately answer: Virgil did seek the 'fchoole-like gloffe' for his learning, the gloss that consists in echoing high-sounding words and phrases. If we reply that the grace and polish of Virgil's phrase is seldom an end in itself, that the preciousness of the ointment demands the beauty of the vase-these critics may retort, 'But Virgil was an imitator of the Alexandrians.' It is worth while to remind ourselves just what Virgil's 'Alexandrianism' amounted to, and I turn therefore to Professor W. Y. Sellar, (Virgil 42): 'Virgil, while familiar with the whole range of Greek poetry and pressing it all into his service, has used the Alexandrians more freely than any other Greek writers, with the exception of Homer. This poetry of Alexandria, or rather this poetry of the Greek race in its latter days, was, to a much greater extent, the artificial product of culture and knowledge than the manifestation of original feeling or intellectual power. The very language in which it was written was artificial, far removed, not only in phraseology, but in dialectal forms, from the language of common life.' And again (p. 45) These writers [Aratus, Callimachus, and Nicander] supplied materials which Virgil used in the Georgics, and in the special examination of that poem it will be seen that he adopted other characteristics of the Alexandrian learning.' Now there is nothing very damaging in this. The meteorology of Aratus was necessary to the Georgics, per haps; while, as regards the latter part of the Aeneid, the archaeological and antiquarian lore displayed in working among the local legends and cults of Italy was not learning of the Alexandrian sort. Catullus and Propertius may be accused of lugging in far-fetched learning, obscure allusions and curious conceits after the Alexandrian manner; but not so Virgil. Virgil was rightly regarded in his own time as a serious and accomplished scholar. Acknowledged for nearly a score of centuries as perhaps the most stylistically perfect of poets, he has never been thought of as a stylist merely his sentences, however chiseled, or moulded, or sublimed, are pregnant with meaning. In short, Virgil does not 'echo words and terms,' his verses are not 'full of sound and fury, signifying nothing,' nor does he seek the 'farfetched circumstance,' the strange and burdensome learning, of the Alexandrian school. So much for lines 129-135, as dealing with Virgil's learning; lines 136-8 speak of his poesy: And for his poefie, 'tis fo ramm'd with life, That it shall gather strength of life, with being, Line 136 harks back to lines 118 ff., already discussed. And the prophecy of ever-increasing glory is probably less an apology for the Roman poet, than a censure of the English audiences, now flocking to the romantic dramas, and not sufficiently enthusiastic over the classicism that Ben Jonson was ever manfully trying to re-establish on the Elizabethan stage. Our conclusion with regard to this first question must therefore be that Jonson's characterization of Virgil in Poetaster is such as might have been seriously intended and unreservedly accepted in England at the beginning of the 17th century. And this conclusion furnishes, of course, strong presumptive evidence against the theory that either Shakespeare or Chapman is alluded to in the passages under consideration. Several alleged identifications of other char acters in Poetaster, though more plausible than these, have been tried and found wanting; so the argument concerning the applicability to the real Virgil of the disputed sentences should make us cautious. But there are valid arguments of quite another kind against the probability that at the time of the composition of Poetaster Jonson would be inclined to exalt either Shakespeare or Chapman with the name of Virgil. In dealing with our second question, let us examine first into the relations obtaining between Jonson and Shakespeare during the Poetaster period. In the winter of 1598 Every Man is his Humour had been produced by the Chamberlain's company, of which Shakespeare was a member, and about a year later the same company had acted Every Man out of his Humour. There is a tradition that it was to the good offices of Shakespeare that the younger dramatist owed the acceptance of the former play; while the folio of 1616 shows that Shakespeare actually took part in the acting. It would at least be reasonable to suppose that thus early Jonson may have won the regard and friendship of his greatest contemporary, and certainly we should not expect the latter to be the one to recede from such a friendship. If we accept the tradition above mentioned, we may even suppose that Jonson felt gratitude as well as admiration toward Shakespeare, which might be expressed in the praises of a VirgilShakespeare by a Horace-Jonson in 1601. On the other hand, it is in Every Man in his Humour itself that we encounter those allusions (see the Prologue) which seem to censure particularly the art that had produced Henry V. and Henry VI. It is quite possible, of course, that in any censure of Shakespeare's art Jonson might still retain an admiration and affection toward the great and lovable man back of the artist; but in most of Jonson's utterances concerning the master of romantic drama we find rather the ardor of a hostile critic than the understanding and indulgence of a friend. In any case, would it not appear to the learned Jonson quite incongruous to represent the unshackled Shakespeare as Virgil, pattern of all classicism? Supposing even the slipping in of a few sentences designed to exalt Shakespeare: how could an audience distinguish what was Shakespeare's and what Virgil's, when the careful students of to-day argue at cross-purposes on this question? And conceive of the disgust of Jonson if it should appear that any benighted auditor or reader should understand those verses upon the art of Virgil as addressed to Shakespeare! At once there occurs to us that much-quoted, and doubtless much-misunderstood sentence in the Conversations (p. 3): 'That Shakspeer wanted arte.' Then recall that other saying, not to be found fault with, in the Discoveries: 'I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakespeare, that in his writing (Whatsoever he penned) he never blotted a line. My answer hath been, Would he had blotted a thousand.' We are not criticising these judgments now-simply using them to indicate Jonson's attitude toward the art that seemed to him no art. And beside them we must place another sentence from the Discoveries: 'It is said of the incomparable Virgil that he brought forth his verses like a bear, and after formed them with licking.' Even these somewhat a priori arguments seem to me to prove that Shakespeare cannot lay claim to Virgil's praise; but there are concrete facts that may appear more decisive. There is actually reason to believe that in the year 1601, when Poetaster was composed and first acted, Jonson and Shakespeare were not friendly toward each other. I must quote once again the well-known passage from 2 Return from Parnassus 4. 3, which seems to have been performed in midwinter 1601-2 (Hazlitt's Dodsley 9. 194): Kemp [to Burbage]. Few of the university pen play well; they smell too much of that writer Ovid and that writer Metamorphosis, and talk too much of Proserpina and Jupiter. Why, here's our fellow Shakespeare puts them all down-ay, and Ben Jonson too. O, that Ben Jonson is a pestilent fel |