[In the Ode, all dashes were printed as groups of 2-5 hyphens. Thisformat has been retained. Brackets are in the original unless otherwisenoted. Joshua Reynolds was knighted in 1769, two years after this work waspublished. ] The Augustan Reprint Society THOMAS MORRISON _A PINDARICK ODE ON PAINTING_ _Addressed to Joshua Reynolds, Esq. _ (1767) With a preface by Frederick W. Hilles and a biographical introduction by J. T. Kirkwood Publication Number 37 Los Angeles William Andrews Clark Memorial Library University of California 1952 GENERAL EDITORS H. RICHARD ARCHER, _Clark Memorial Library_ RICHARD C. BOYS, _University of Michigan_ RALPH COHEN, _University of California, Los Angeles_ VINTON A. DEARING, _University of California, Los Angeles_ ASSISTANT EDITOR W. EARL BRITTON, _University of Michigan_ ADVISORY EDITORS EMMETT L. AVERY, _State College of Washington_ BENJAMIN BOYCE, _University of Nebraska_ LOUIS I. BREDVOLD, _University of Michigan_ JOHN BUTT, _King's College, University of Durham_ JAMES L. CLIFFORD, _Columbia University_ ARTHUR FRIEDMAN, _University of Chicago_ EDWARD NILES HOOKER, _University of California, Los Angeles_ LOUIS A. LANDA, _Princeton University_ SAMUEL H. MONK, _University of Minnesota_ ERNEST MOSSNER, _University of Texas_ JAMES SUTHERLAND, _Queen Mary College, London_ H. T. SWEDENBERG, JR. , _University of California, Los Angeles_ CORRESPONDING SECRETARY EDNA C. DAVIS, _Clark Memorial Library_ PREFACE The poem here reprinted has remained unread and, with a singleexception, apparently unnoticed from the day it was published until thepresent. It is printed from a copy which I acquired many years ago at aLondon bookstore and which for a while I thought unique. I did not findit listed in the catalogues of the chief libraries of England orAmerica, nor in the various books on anonymous publications. I havefound no mention of it in the newspapers and magazines of the time, nomention of it in contemporary letters or diaries. The one man in Englandwho took the trouble to record the ode for posterity was, as might beexpected, Horace Walpole, who in his manuscript Books of Materialsmerely noted that the poem had been published in 176_8_ (_Anecdotes ofPainting ... Volume the Fifth_, ed. Hilles and Daghlian, Yale UniversityPress, 1937). When challenged to locate Walpole's copy of the ode, the greatest of modern collectors was able, after perhaps forty-fiveseconds, to say not only that it was in the Houghton Library at Harvardbut that on the title in Walpole's hand was the information that thepoem was published on the sixteenth of May, a fact which would otherwisebe unknown. A third copy was in the possession of the late ProfessorHeidbrink of Northwestern, inscribed in a contemporary hand "T.  M. , M. A. " and thus, possibly, the author's own. There are, then, three knowncopies extant. Doubtless others will be found, bound up with pamphletsof the same vintage, as yet uncatalogued. What Walpole did not know was the name of the author, and quite possiblythe ode would have remained unread and unnoticed for another twocenturies had Mr. Kirkwood not brought to light the letters which arefirst published in the introduction that follows. From these letters anda few known facts the history of the ode seems clear enough. Reynoldshad a number of relatives living in Great Torrington. In the summer of1762 when he and Dr. Johnson went to Devonshire they were entertained byMorrison. Johnson's published letters prove that he did not forgetMorrison, and Reynolds was soon painting the portrait of Morrison'sdaughter. In the summer of 1766 Morrison sent his ode to Reynolds. Thefollowing January he learned that Johnson, "as severe a Critic as oldDennis, " praised it and ordered it to be published. Reynolds himselfmust have arranged for the publication. The publisher selected was William Griffin, who a few years later was tobring out some of Sir Joshua's _Discourses_. The work of the printer wasonly moderately well done. It will be noted that _whose_ (second line ofstanza V) is obviously a misprint for _whole_, that the second line hasdropped out of stanza XXXIV (Mr. Kirkwood ingeniously suggests thatMorrison wrote: "for every trifler's breast/Is by the hope of futurefame possest"), and that in two places the number of a stanza has beenomitted. And yet the ode, which is physically thinner as well ashistorically and aesthetically inferior to Gray's famous odes, is pricedat 1/6, whereas the Strawberry Hill edition of Gray's _Odes_ (1757) soldfor but a shilling. Clearly Morrison was not influenced by, if familiar with, _The Progressof Poesy_ and _The Bard_. His ode is Pindaric in the lateseventeenth-century sense. In his brief preface he explains that he hassought to please us "with a little variety of wild music, " believing"that the perpetual recurrence of the same measure in such amultiplicity of stanzas would have been rather languid and fatiguing. "An examination of the poem shows that Morrison has carried his desirefor variety to the extreme. The poem consists of thirty-five stanzas, not one of which repeats both the metrical pattern and rhyme scheme ofany other. The stanzas range from six to eighteen lines in length, andthe lines themselves from four short syllables to the long Alexandrine. At times one has the feeling that this love of changing rhythms andrhymes has improperly warped the meaning of a given passage. The author shows his familiarity with the standard books on aesthetics. In _Idler_ No. 76, published in 1759, Reynolds laughed at those who bymastering a few phrases posed as connoisseurs. He introduced a gentlemanwho had just returned from Italy, "his mouth full of nothing but thegrace of _Raffaelle_, ... And the sublimity and grand contorno of_Michael Angelo_. " This gentleman criticised a Vandyck because it"had not the flowing line, " and of "St. Paul preaching" said, "what anaddition to that nobleness could _Raffaelle_ have given, had the art ofcontrast been known in his time! but above all, the flowing line. "Morrison is familiar with the jargon, as is seen throughout the ode. Atthe beginning he displays wit in applying these phrases not to paintingbut to his verse: With my easy flowing line To unite correctness of design. And at the end he rather neatly twists the famous statement of Appellesinto a justification for his writing a poem to add to the reputation ofa great painter. The ode falls into two roughly equal parts. In the first half the poetdescribes specific examples of what he calls History and Landskip. Thebattle painting sounds like something by Il Borgognone, the crucifixionperhaps by Guido Reni. The other painters are named--Vanderveld and, inevitably, Claude. The late Miss Manwaring would not have beensurprised to learn that more space is devoted to Claude than to theothers. Then almost precisely at the half-way point a pleasing trance isinterrupted by the portrait of a "hoary sage, " perhaps, Mr. Kirkwoodsuggests, the portrait Reynolds had recently completed of the Rev. Zachariah Mudge, then seventy-two years of age, who had been since 1737a fellow prebendary of Morrison's at Exeter, and whom Reynolds describedas "the wisest man he had ever met. " From this point on the poetaddresses Reynolds and incidentally describes with skill two of his mostpopular portraits, "Lady Sarah Bunbury sacrificing to the Graces"(exhibited in 1765) and "Garrick between Tragedy and Comedy" (exhibitedin 1762). Garrick was then at the height of his fame, and this was themost notable of the many portraits painted of him. Lady Sarah, "thebright Lenox" of stanza XXIII, was equally celebrated in her sphere. Among the bridesmaids at the wedding of George III she was, in Walpole'sopinion, the "chief angel. " "With neither features nor air, nothing everlooked so charming as Lady Sarah Lenox; she has all the glow of beautypeculiar to her family. " She was the great granddaughter of Charles II;hence Morrison's _regal_. And in the poem as in the painting she isfeeding the flame which does honor to the Graces. Johnson's hostility to "our Pindarick madness" is well known. The "firstand obvious defect" of Dryden's _Threnodia_ "is the irregularity of itsmetre. " The "lax and lawless versification" of this type of poetry, he wrote in the _Life of Cowley_, "concealed the deficiencies of thebarren, and flattered the laziness of the idle. " One cannot but wondertherefore at his praise of Morrison's ode. To be sure, Reynolds quotesJohnson as pronouncing it "superior to any Poem _of the kind_ that hasbeen publish'd these many years, " and Johnson may well have consideredpraise of this sort as he did lapidary inscriptions. It may be worthnoting, however, that none of his recorded comments on Pindaric verseantedate the publication of this ode. Conceivably he himself was unawareof his hostility until, more than ten years later, he was forced tocriticise the poets who made the English Pindaric popular. Perhaps too by ordering its publication he was saying indirectly what hehad already expressed in many of his writings, for example in _Rambler_No. 23: "the publick, which is never corrupted, nor often deceived, isto pass the last sentence upon literary claims. " If this is so, a serieslike the Augustan Reprints necessarily deals with literary failures. Andyet Morrison's ode is well worth reading today as a pleasing example ofwhat I somewhat fearsomely term the baroque, of what the culturedgentleman of that time regarded as a token of good taste. Long dormant, it is here given new life. Who knows but that the prophecy made byMorrison at the end of the poem may after all be fulfilled: In the long course of rolling years, When all thy labour disappears, Yet shall this verse descend from age to age, And, breaking from oblivion's shade, Go on, to flourish while thy paintings fade. Frederick W. Hilles Yale University Postscript Mr. Kirkwood has sent me information, too late to be incorporated in thepreface, which adds to, and in an important way corrects, what I havewritten. In the Print Room of the British Museum there is an engraving by JamesWatson "From an Original Picture by Vandevelde, in the Possession of Mr. Reynolds. " Every detail in the engraving tallies with Morrison'sword-painting of the Vandevelde. Furthermore the description of alandscape by Claude (a View near Castle Gondolfo) in the sale of SirJoshua's collection of paintings in 1795 suggests that this was theClaude Morrison had in mind when writing his ode. In other words, it isprobable that all the paintings discussed in the poem had been seen byMorrison in Reynolds's house. As to matters of fact, the ode, it turns out, was not unnoticed in itsday. It was commented upon in both the _Critical_ and the _Monthly_--notin 1767 but in 1768. The reviewer in the _Critical_ (vol. 25, p.  393, inthe monthly catalogue for May) wrote: "This is an elegant and ingeniousdescriptive poem. The author supposes himself viewing several pieces ofhistoric, landskip, and portrait painting; and from thence takesoccasion to represent the figures, prospects, and passions, which theartist has exhibited. As the poet has touched upon various topics, hehas very properly used many different kinds of metre. " The review in the_Monthly_ (vol. 39, p.  316, in the monthly catalogue for October), written by John Langhorne, as Professor Nangle's _Index_ shows, was lessfavorable. "There is great variety in the numbers of this ode; but, inour opinion, they are not combined in such a manner as to produce anatural or agreeable harmony. There is sometimes, too, a falling off, not far removed from the Bathos. Thus, when the Author says his poeticalideas Resistless on the rous'd imagination pour, And paint themselves as lively as before; we cannot help feeling the weakness of the latter verse. Yet there ispoetry, there is enthusiasm, there is energy in this piece, on thewhole, though it is not without many defects. " That these reviewsappeared in May and October 1768 is compelling evidence for dating thepamphlet, in spite of Mr. Griffin, 1768. Walpole once more proveshimself a reliable source. Why the publication was delayed for over ayear will probably remain a mystery. F. W. H. INTRODUCTION Apart from the few papers relating to him that have survived since hisdeath in 1778, little more is known of the Rev. Thomas Morrison of GreatTorrington in Devon than the main facts of his life; among those papers, however, are some letters--written by Sir Joshua Reynolds andothers--about his literary pursuits, in which Dr. Johnson was at onetime briefly concerned. He was born on March 26, 1705, at Midhurst in Sussex, the elder son ofThomas Morrison of that place and Sarah Bridges. As to his ancestry, thefamily seems to have claimed kinship with the Morrisons of CassioburyPark in Hertfordshire. At the age of twelve he was entered as a scholarupon the foundation at Winchester, where he remained until his electionin 1723 to a probationary fellowship of New College, Oxford; hisadmission as a full fellow followed in 1725. Having received hisBachelor's degree in 1727, he became M. A. In 1731, took orders, and waspresented to the college living of Steeple Morden in Cambridgeshire. It may also have been in 1731, though possibly earlier, that he wentdown into Devon to act as tutor to John Basset of Heanton Court nearBarnstaple--a step which was, as things turned out, to make him aresident of that county for the rest of his life. His pupil's father haddied in 1721, leaving a widow, Elizabeth, the only daughter and eventualheiress of Sir Nicholas Hooper, Sergeant-at-Law. Sir Nicholas, who hadrepresented Barnstaple in seven successive parliaments and was a man ofconsiderable wealth, died in May, 1731; almost exactly a year later, inMay, 1732, his daughter, then thirty-seven years of age and described ina letter written at that time as a lady much admired for her piety, prudence and good conduct, was married to Thomas Morrison, thentwenty-seven. Three children were born of their marriage: Mary in 1734, Eleanora in 1736, and Hooper in 1737. In the year following the birth oftheir son Mrs. Morrison died, presumably at Bath as she is buried in theAbbey Church of that city; on the tablet he placed there to her memoryher husband said that she had been the best of wives who, for the fewyears she lived with him, not only made him a much happier man, but abetter man, since not only had her rational and endearing conversationbeen the perpetual delight of his heart, but her exemplary conduct hadlikewise been the pleasing rule and constant direction of his life. Upon his marriage Morrison had necessarily resigned his fellowship ofNew College, and two years later he also gave up the college living inCambridgeshire; the benefices that he afterwards held were all in thediocese of Exeter. In 1736 he was made a prebendary of Exeter and becameRector of Wear Giffard; the following year, after obtaining adispensation to hold the two livings together, he was also instituted toHigh Bickington, which, however, he resigned in 1742. In 1744 he becameRector of Littleham, soon afterwards resigning Wear Giffard; andfinally, in 1758, after resigning Littleham in its turn, he wasinstituted to Langtree, of which parish he continued Rector until hisdeath twenty years later. The presentations to these livings were madeas follows: to Wear Giffard by Lord Clinton, Lord Lieutenant of thecounty from 1721 to 1733, whose seat was at Castle Hill near Barnstaple;to High Bickington and to Littleham by John Basset of Heanton--who waspatron of half a dozen livings; to Langtree by John Rolle Walter ofBicton in South Devon and Stevenstone House near Great Torrington, Member of Parliament for Exeter. These parishes all lie within six miles of Great Torrington whereMorrison appears to have been resident from at least as early as 1750. In his answers to the Bishop's queries of 1744 he had, however, declaredhimself to be resident partly in Huntshaw, a parish adjoining WearGiffard; and--for reasons of his health and the education of hischildren--partly at Westleigh on the mouth of the Torridge, a few milesoff. In which intervening year he established himself at GreatTorrington is not known. Meanwhile, he had made two further marriages: in 1739 to Margaret, daughter of the Rev. Robert Ham and widow of John Ham of Widhays, whodied in 1744; and in 1745 to Honour, daughter of Sir Thomas Bury andwidow of the Rev. George Bussell, who died at Great Torrington in 1750. Both these later marriages were childless. Hooper Morrison followed his father into the Church and became Rector ofAtherington near Barnstaple. In 1769 he bought the property of Yeo Vale, some five miles from Great Torrington. Eleanora Morrison, who nevermarried and seems to have lived with her father until his death, sat toReynolds in her younger days; the portrait then painted, which wasformerly at Yeo Vale, shows her in profile and wearing a blue velvetmantle edged with ermine. There was also among the portraits at Yeo Vale a three-quarter length ofan agreeable-looking man, apparently between thirty and forty years ofage, shown wearing a red velvet cap and an unusual coat, like afull-skirted cassock made of blue satin; this portrait, the work ofHudson, was believed to represent Thomas Morrison. Coming now to the letters, the earliest of these, written in February, 1753, is from Morrison to the Bishop of Exeter, Dr. Lavington, who twoyears before had published the third part of his book, _The Enthusiasmof Methodists and Papists Compared_. The letter is inscribed on theoutside "Mr. Morrison's Ode, " and must have been returned to its writerafter the Bishop's death in 1762. My Lord, Since I had the honour of being with your Lordship in Exeter I have with great pleasure read over the third part of the Enthusiasm of Methodists and Papists compar'd, and as by having my Boy at present under my own Care I have been oblig'd to renew my acquaintance a little with the Classicks, I have endeavour'd to express my Sentiments of your Lordship's learned and acute performance in the following Ode, which if it should afford you a Quarter of an Hours Amusement will be no little pleasure to me--that your Lordship may read it with the more Indulgence think that the Scribbler of it has not attempted to write Latin verse for above twenty years, and believe me to be with the Highest Respect, Your Lordship's most oblig'd and most obedient Humble Servant T. Morrison. My best Respects wait on your Lady and Miss Lavington. Here follows the ode ("Reverendo admodum Episcopo Exoniensis indoctissimum adversus Methodistas Librum cui Titulus etc. ") which begins: Verende praesul, praesul amabilis, Qui dulce rides, utiliter doces; Jucunda permiscens severis, Incolumi gravitate ludens, Quia Methodistes scripta legens tui Amoenitatem respuat ingeni, Suumque vestro--vel reluctans-- Abstineat sociare risum? and continues for a further sixteen stanzas. There is nothing to show to whom the next letter was written, though, considering the later ones, it seems likely that it was addressed toJoshua Reynolds. It concerns a tragedy (on the subject of the EmperorOtho) of which Morrison was undoubtedly the author. John Beard, on whosebehalf the letter was written in February, 1763, had become manager ofCovent Garden Theatre in the previous year. Sir, Mr. Beard's attention to the Affairs of the Theatre having entirely taken up his Time, during this Season, from which, as yet, he is not releas'd, deprives him of the Pleasure of writing to you, in Answer to the Letter you did him the Favour of communicating from the Author of Otho; he, therefore, hopes you will excuse his deputing me to convey to you the Opinion of his Friends thereon; and if they differ in Sentiment with the Author, it is with some Concern, as they wou'd rather give Approbation to a Piece, which has, indeed, great merit in the Writing, but will not suit the Taste of an English Audience. How well, and with what Propriety, a Dramatic Piece may be conducted wherein are very few Characters, it is not now intended to be entered upon; but it is very certain, from the Want thereof, many Productions have fail'd of their expected Applause; of which, very many Instances might be produc'd; wherein that has been the Chief, if not the only Defect. The French, indeed, tho' a Nation of great Levity, can attentively listen to long declamatory Speeches, when an English Audience wou'd fall asleep; who love Action and Bus'ness, love Plot and Design; Variety of Incidents is their Delight, but yet that Plot must be founded on Reason and Probability, and conduce to the Main Action of the Drama. It is the Advice of a celebrated Author, _Habitum hujus Temporis habe_; the Taste of the Town, you know, Sir, right or wrong, must be comply'd with; without which, to hope for Success, is striving against the Stream, and however great the Merit of this Piece may be, it must be confess'd, in this Particular, it is defective; nor does there appear a Probability of that Defect's being corrected; and even then it wou'd be esteem'd but a Copy of Cato. From the Author's great Candour and Impartiality, remarkably shewn thro' the whole Tenour of his Letter, it is hop'd a few additional Remarks will not give Offence. [Here ensues a lengthy passage of detailed criticism, at the end of which the writer continues:] It wou'd greatly trespass on yours and the Author's Time to enlarge on this Subject, as Mr. Beard cannot give him any Encouragement to make Alterations. Undoubtedly there are several good Scenes, and much good Writing, which deserve their proper Encomiums; and the Perusal may give much pleasure in the Closet, but does not bid fair for equal Reception on the Stage. I cannot dismiss this without clearing up a mistake which the Author is run into; tho' urg'd with the utmost Tenderness and Delicacy imaginable; I mean the Supposition that a Recommendation from a Person of Figure in the Fashionable or the Letter'd World is necessary for the having the Piece accepted. Be assur'd, Sir, every Piece must be determin'd by its own intrinsic Worth; and by that must stand or fall. Such a Recommendation undoubtedly wou'd raise the Expectation and, consequently, engage a more particular Attention of the Manager, but the Piece must speak for itself; and shou'd it not answer Expectation, might probably not appear in so good a Light as it might deserve, purely from the Disappointment. I have the Honour, Sir, of sending Mr. Beard's Compliments to yourself and the Author, with the Assurance that he wou'd with greater Pleasure accept than refuse the Piece, stood it within the Probability of Success. At the same Time, tho' unknown, I beg leave, with great Deference, to subscribe myself, Sir, Your's and the Author's very obedient, humble Servant, J. Stede. There now follow the three surviving letters from Joshua Reynolds inLondon to Thomas Morrison in Devon. Whether or not the two men had knowneach other before, they certainly met when Reynolds visited his sister, Mrs. Palmer of Great Torrington, during his Journey into the westcountry with Johnson in 1762. According to Reynolds' engagement book, Morrison was his host on August 27 of that year; while a letter writtenby Johnson, after returning to London, contains a message for "Dr. Morison" to say that a set of _Idlers_ was being sent to him withsincere acknowledgements of all his civilities. The first of Reynolds'letters is dated, at the end, August 16, 1766. Dear Sir, The greatest compliment I have ever yet receiv'd for any fancied eminence in my profession has not been so flattering to my vanity as having had the honour to have so excellent a Poem address'd to me as this really is which I have now before me, and the consideration that this compliment is made me by Mr. Morrison makes me at a loss in what manner to express the obligation I feel myself under for so great a favour. I may truly say and without affecting much modesty that I am not worthy of the attention you please to honour me with. As I have not had time yet to consider it as maturely as I intend to do, I can only say in general terms that I admire it exceedingly. Here there is a break in the letter. I am quite ashamed to have kept this Letter so long, which proceeded from an expectation I dayly had of reading the Poem with Mr. Johnson and Dr. Goldsmith but which I have not yet been able to accomplish. The former part of this Letter was wrote a few days after I had the pleasure of seeing your Son; you have surely the greatest reason in the world to think me the most ill mannered as well as the most ungrateful person breathing in not returning my thanks sooner; and now that it is delay'd so long it has not answerd any end except that I have the pleasure of saying, I find no cause on a second and third reading to retract what I said in the former part of the Letter, my own opinion is worth but little; but I hope soon to have the pleasure of acquainting you with the approbation of those Critics which it is some honour to please. With great acknowledgment for the distinction you have been pleased to honour me with, I am with the greatest respect your most obliged humble servant, J. Reynolds. I beg my compliments to Miss and Mr. Morrison. To this Morrison evidently sent a reply expressing his pleasure atReynolds' praise of the poem, for on January 8, 1767, Reynolds wroteagain. Dear Sir, I am much obliged to you for the compliment you make me in thinking my approbation of any value, to tell you the truth the reason of my setting so little value on it myself, proceeds not so much from modesty, or an opinion that I cannot feel the powers of Poetry, or distinguish beauties from defects, but from a consciousness that I am unable to determine (as all excellence in comparative) what rank it ought to hold in the scale of Art; and this judgement can be possess'd I think by those only who are acquainted with what the world has produced of that kind. I have lately had the pleasure of reading your Poem to several friends, who have spoken much in its commendation, and Mr. Johnson who is as severe a Critic as old Dennis approves of it very much, he thinks it superior to any Poem of the kind that has been publish'd these many years and will venture to lay a wager that there is not a better publish'd this year or the next. The Characters of the several Masters mention'd in the Poem are truly drawn; and the descriptions of the several kinds of History Painting shew great imagination and a thorough knowledge of the Theory of the Art, and that this is deliver'd in Poetry much above the common standard I have Mr. Johnson's word who concluded his commendation with Imprimatur meo periculo which order if you have no objection we will immediately put in execution. I have scarce left room to subscribe myself Yours, J. Reynolds. There is no record of any copy of the poem, either printed ormanuscript, having been at Yeo Vale; but that the order had indeed beenput in execution became apparent lately when Professor Hilles, onreading the above letter, recognized the identity of Morrison's poemwith the _Pindarick Ode on Painting_ published in 1767. The last of the three letters from Reynolds to Morrison is dated March2, 1771. Notwithstanding the rejection of "Otho, " its author had writtena second tragedy, the manuscript of which was among the papers at YeoVale, according to a note made in 1917 by the late Major J.  H. MorrisonKirkwood. Dear Sir, Nothing would give me greater uneasiness [than] if you should suspect that my not answering your Letter proceeded from neglect, it would be a shamefull return for the kindness I have allways experienced from you, the truth is Mr. Coleman [sic] as well as myself is allways so full of business that I have not been able to meet with him so often as I could wish, however when we do meet I have endeavourd to press him to complete the negociation by Letter as I found it impossible to persuade you to come to Town. The last time I saw him he told me he would write to you in a few days, as by this time you have probably receiv'd his Letter, you have a more explicit account than any I can give. In regard to the hundred Pounds for which I told him you would let him have the Tragedy, he said he fear'd that you suspected that he wanted to decline receiving it, which was not the case, that he wish'd to receive it and certainly would when those alterations were made, that if he gave this sum for the Tragedy, he should probably receive more profit from it than he had any right to, that he never would receive any profit but as Manager. I beg my Compliments to Miss Morrison and am with the greatest respect your most humble and obedient servant Joshua Reynolds. On reading this, Morrison may well have thought that his tragedy wasalmost certain of acceptance; a few months later, however, he heard fromGeorge Colman, who had succeeded Beard as manager of Covent GardenTheatre in 1767. The letter is dated July 23, 1771, and its openingsentence is explained by the death of Colman's wife earlier in the year. Sir, My last Letter would very soon have been succeeded by another if a very unexpected & most shocking domestick calamity had not rendered me wholly incapable of attending to every kind of business. I have however lately read your Tragedy over & over with the strictest attention, and after considering it again & again, not without a real partiality to the Author, & the strongest desire of encouraging the most favourable idea of it, I am with much concern obliged to declare it unfit for representation. The first act is very excellent, & with a few slight alterations, would be a most affecting opening of a Tragedy. In the second act the scene of Iphigenia is also extremely beautiful and interesting; but the other parts of the act have no dramatick merit. The circumstance so much insisted on of Clytemnestra's dressing (tho' I believe in Euripides) wd. Appear ridiculous on our stage: and the scenes of Memnon and Achilles are weak & illwritten, tho' the entrance of Achilles at that juncture might afford a spirited & interesting scene. In these acts, as well as the two following, the conduct of the fable is in general just: at least it is most wonderfully improved since your first draught of the Tragedy: and yet the characters & dialogue are so managed as to render the whole cold, uninteresting, & totally destitute of that spirit essential to the success of the Drama. The personages are all suffered to languish, tho' in situations which require the utmost animation & force. Clytemnestra & Iphigenia, though defective, are indeed better sustained than the rest, but the consequence of the Atridae hardly survives the first act, and Achilles never maintains any consequence at all. The same remark may in general be applied to the fifth act as to the foregoing. The management of the catastrophe might perhaps admit of alteration. The nature of the subject indeed renders it a very nice point: tho' I think it would be very possible to give it due warmth & interest, were the more arduous task accomplished of perfecting the preceding parts of the Drama. Believe me, Sir, that in this as well as in all my other Letters to you, I have delivered my real sentiments, tho' it is not without reluctance & regret on the present occasion. I had at first some objections to the subject. These vanished; & in the first draught there were here & there some touches which inclined me to hope that the whole piece might be worked up by the same hand. I am sorry to pronounce it has failed: but _Ponere Totum_ is the great secret; and in our exhibitions a common Dauber, possest of that happy knack, will often be attended with tolerable success, and exult at the failure of a superior artist who has only laboured particular parts. I am, Sir, your most obedient humble servant, G. Colman. This letter, which must have left its recipient without further hope forthe production of his tragedy, is the last that remains. Thomas Morrison died on July 20, 1778, and was buried beside his thirdwife in the churchyard at Great Torrington. The inscription on thetablet placed to his memory in the church nearby says of him that hisdiffusive charity and benevolence towards man, his amiable manners, thegoodness of his heart and his exemplary conduct deservedly endeared himto all his acquaintance. Hooper Morrison died in 1798; his only son, Thomas Hooper Morrison, in1824; and his son's widow in 1861. The Yeo Vale property then passed tohis son's niece, Eleanora Elizabeth Hammett, who was the wife of JohnTownsend Kirkwood, great-grandfather of the present writer, and the solesurviving child of Hooper Morrison's youngest--but onlymarried--daughter. J. T. Kirkwood White's Club, London. * * * * * * * * * A PINDARICK ODE on PAINTING. Addressed To JOSHUA REYNOLDS, Esq. LONDON: Printed for W. GRIFFIN, in Catharine-Street, Strand. MDCCLXVII. [Price One Shilling and Six-pence. ] THE PREFACE. As the subject of this Ode is, from the copiousness of it, almost aninexhaustible one (were I to take notice of all the minuter branches ofthis art, in which the several masters have distinguish'd themselves, such as the painting of fruit, flowers, still-life, game, buildings, ships, &c. ) I have confin'd myself chiefly to the three greater speciesof it: namely, History (under which Battle-painting may justly beincluded) Landskip and Portraiture----and as, in a composition of thislength, I imagin'd that the perpetual recurrence of the same measure insuch a multiplicity of stanzas would have been rather languid andfatiguing, I have therefore indulg'd myself in many different kinds ofmetre; but, at the same time, have blended them as harmoniously as Icould contrive; by which indulgence I have not only consulted my ownease, but hope I have likewise, in some degree, consulted the pleasureof the Reader, by entertaining his ear, at least, with a little varietyof wild music, even if the composition should have no other sort ofmerit to recommend it. A PINDARICK ODE ON PAINTING. I. Sweet mimick art! Which to our ravish'd eyes, From a few blended colours, and the aid Of attemper'd light and shade, Bid'st a new creation rise--- Oh! to this song of tributary praise, Which Poetry thy sister art Now with friendly homage pays, Could I contrive thy beauties to impart! With my easy flowing line To unite correctness of design, 10 And make a TITIAN's colouring conspire With RAPHAEL's grace, and BUANOROTI's fire--- II. And this moment I perceive (Or does some illusion bless me, Some sweet madness now possess me?) My tumultuous bosom heave, Like the rapt SIBYLL's when she feels the load, The painful influence of th' in-rushing God--- III. Yes---once again with joy I find (Nor think my friend th' assertion bold) 20 This languid age-enfeebled mind, As in life's prime, it's powers unfold--- Again th' ideal scenes arise, The visions stream before my eyes, Resistless on the rous'd imagination pour, And paint themselves as lively as before----- IV. But be this mental picture grac'd With all th' adornings fancy can bestow, How is it's beauty now effac'd, 30 How fast all it's splendor declines, Out-dazzled by those brighter lines Which on yonder canvas glow---- V. Where---by th' Historick pencil's aid Whose ages are at once display'd--- Some great event of Rome or Greece Fills perhaps each high wrought piece--- There---some triumphal pomp proceeds--- There---th' impetuous battle bleeds--- Mark! while they engage What ardor what rage, 40 How shields are clash'd with shields--- And with what force up-rais'd in air, Each warrior brawny arm stript bare, Darts th' keen spear, or glittering faulchion wields, And while it aims the stroke, or while repels, How justly each inflated muscle swells---- VI. With the same noble warmth imprest, As with his Lord the gallant beast Was eager to acquire a name, And combated like him for fame, 50 See the generous steed Fierce as CIRCE's high breed Which she stole from her bright-flaming fire, While he springs on the foe, Like the shaft from the bow, Scarce imprint the trod ground; But curvet and bound As if drawn by a pencil of fire---- VII. But what endless length of verse Can suffice me to rehearse 60 Th' enliven'd action of the whole? Squadrons this way, that way bending, The depicted forms contending As instinct with real foul---- VIII. Nay---minutely to describe The varied helm, peculiar shield, The different aspect of each tribe Which animates th' embattled field, Would ask the compass of an age, To mark the whole---must drawl along 70 The tedious circumstantial song, And haply languish through the thousandth page--- IX. But rapidly by Painting's aid Is this intelligence convey'd; E'en in a single moment's space We see th' extensive plan unfold, Omitted not one trifling grace, In full the complex tale is told; The grand exploits of half an Iliad rise, And flash at once on our astonish'd eyes---- 80 X. Nor serves this sweet instructive art T' inform the intellect alone, But often melts th' obdurate heart And wakes it's pænitential groan--- For when in some great Master's draught, With genius as with judgement fraught, Nail'd haply to th' accursed tree, On his tenter'd wounds suspended, Every nerve with torture rended, Th' agonizing GOD we see--- 90 Supported by her weeping train While the dolorous mother stands With anguish'd features, writhen hands, Expressing e'en superior pain; Who but must mingle in this scene of woe, What breast can cease to heave, what eye forbear to flow? XI. But sorrow now o'erpow'rd by fear, Soon is check'd the starting tear, While in yonder piece I view, Which VANDERVELD's bold pencil drew 100 Through all it's gloom'd extent the ocean Work'd into wild impetuous motion, And with more dread t' impress the soul Grimly frowns the lurid sky, And the condensing vapours roll, And the fork'd light'nings fly--- With shatter'd sails and low-bent mast Drives before the whirling blast The fondering vessel---Hark! I hear (Or does the eye deceive the ear?) 110 The thunder's voice, the groaning air, The billows loud roar While they break on the shore, The cries of the wreck'd, and their shrieks of despair. XII. With pleasure now I turn my sight From horror and death to those scenes of delight, Where CLAUDIO's pencil has essay'd With every heighten'd touch to trace The wide-stretch'd Landskip's varied face, And all it's sweet delusive skill display'd--- 120 XIII. How the genial colours warm us? How the gay deceptions charm us? The objects here advancing nigh As with brighter tints they bloom--- There receding from the eye As suffus'd with deeper gloom; And, while here to bound the scene, Their tops half-blended with the skies, The misty mountains intervene, Or rocks in dim confusion rise; 130 There the wild ocean terminates the view; It's green waves mingling with th' æthereal blue--- XIV. And, lo! what numerous beauties grace Th' enchanted intermediate space! Rivers winding through the vales, Here, full in view; there, faintly shewn, Hillocks, inter-mix'd with dales, Rural cotts at distance thrown--- There, some foaming cataract pours From the steep cliff it's watery stores; 140 Here, spreads it's gloom some awful grove, Through whose thick branches interwove, While the sun darts his slanting beams, Delightful to the eye the yellowish lustre streams--- XV. Above the strong illumin'd skies, The clouds in shining volumes, roll'd Their fleecy skirts bedeckt with gold, Half-dazzle the spectator's eyes--- And does the real solar light Flash at present on the sight? 150 Or, does the pencil'd radiance only flow, And flowing with such fervour beat That e'en with all the dog-days heat The sultry painting now appears to glow? XVI. Beneath some oak's projecting shade, Where the shot rays scarce passage find, See many a rustick youth and maid In languid attitudes reclin'd---- Mark! with features all relenting, And with down-cast eyes consenting, 160 How each nymph listens to the amorous tale; Her half-bar'd bosom, panting with desire, Expos'd, as if to catch the cooling gale; But more, perhaps, to fan the lover's fire. XVII. Ye dear deceptions! how ye move The breast to long forgotten love? Luxurious scenes! how ye excite The traces of distinct delight! E'en now around this poor half-frozen heart Agnizing it's accustom'd smart, 170 Like some mild lambent flame the passion plays; And, vanquish'd by ideal charms, I sink in the imagin'd arms Of some sweet PHILLIS of my youthful days. XVIII. But, lo! the Portrait of yon hoary sage From whose grave lore I learnt in youth Many a rigid moral truth, Frowns me again to cold unfeeling age--- How are the soft emotions checkt While tow'rd me he seems to direct, 180 As if alive, his conscious eye; At whose austere reproving glance, I wake reluctant from my trance, And feel with pain each pleasing passion die!--- XIX. VENUS yokes her purple doves, In an instant dispossest, All the little sportive loves Hurry---hurry from my breast--- And the whole charming vision flits away Like the night's golden dream at break of envious day-- 190 XX. Poor human life! how short the date Assign'd thee by relentless Fate!---- Poor transient Beauty! tender flower! Still shorter thy allotted hour!---- Then stretch the canvass---quick, my Friend, Thy pencil seize---thy work attend--- E'en exempt from deforming diseases, How it fades by the torches of Time; Every moment that flows Steals the gloss from the rose; 200 Then catch the bright hue while it pleases, And fix the fair face in it's prime. XXI. Nay-- thus, great Artist, has thy hand To half the high-born beauty of the land A permanence ensur'd, And from th' attacks of wrinkling age, And from the pustule's venom'd rage Th' untarnish'd form secur'd--- XXII. It's dear resemblance has at least Been in thy faithful lines exprest; 210 In thy firm colours still persists to bloom; Nor does it cease the heart t' alarm, Nor does it cease the eye to charm, E'en when the real Fair is mouldering in her tomb-- XXIII. And eminent in beauty as in birth, When the bright LENOX shall as well In the same gloomy mansion dwell And mingle with her kindred regal earth, Still in thy tints shall she survive, With sweet attraction still engage, 220 Still feed the flame as when alive, And (e'en improv'd by mellowing age Each charm of person and of face) Still sacrifice to every grace--- XXIV. For we not see the outward form alone In thy judicious strokes defin'd, But in them too---distinctly shewn--- The strong-mark'd features of the mind--- Each charmer's attitude and air The internal character declare, 230 With ease the varied temper we descry, The full-soul beaming from th' expressive eye--- XXV. Here---in the sweetly pensive mein Is the soft gentle Nature seen, And chaste reserve, and modest fear, And artless innocence appear--- There---the little fly coquet Aiming her insidious glances: For trapping hearts each feature set, From the canvass makes advances, 240 Nay---if we credit the delusive face, She seems just springing to our fond embrace--- XXVI. And if such meaning can be thrown Into the single form alone--- With what fresh rapture should we gaze, How would thy kindling genius blaze, To what superior heights aspire, If working on some grand design, Where various characters combine To call forth all it's force, and rouse thy native fire?--- 250 XXVII. And that thy hand can equally excel E'en in this noble part, This shining branch of thy expressive art, To it's own happy labour we appeal, To that rich piece whose pleasing fiction And splendid tints with full conviction Strike the spectator, while he views THALIA and the tragick muse, Each eager on her side t' engage Th' unrivall'd Roscius of the British stage--- 260 XXVIII. Stern and erect the buskin'd dame In high dramatick wrath appears, With energy supports her claim And seems to thunder in his ears; While the inveigling comick Fair, With aspect sly and artful air To draw her favourite to her arms Strains every nerve; but as she strives, With the sweet attitude contrives T' impart the stronger influence to her charms-- 270 XXIX. Betwixt them with distracted mein The object of their strife is seen; His eyes with wild confusion roll, Mixt passions, with alternate sway, In his ambiguous features play, And speak as yet the undetermined soul; But that half-assenting leer, Obliquely on the little wheedler thrown, Portends, though checkt with aukward fear, That soon the apostate will be all her own-- 280 XXX. Spare, Oh! Time, these colours; spare 'em, Or with thy tend'rest touch impair 'em: At least, for some few centuries space, Shine they with unlessen'd grace! They shall---yet, Oh! these noble works at last Must, by the gathering mould o'ercast, Or rotted by the damps, decay, Or by the air's corrosive power, Or e'en the slowly-fretting hour, Must every trace of beauty melt away. 290 XXXI. When er'st APELLE's friend enquir'd, Why touch'd so oft in every part With repeated strokes of art, The picture which already they admir'd, The Artist, with becoming pride, "I'm Painting for Eternity, " replied. XXXII. But vain, great Genius! was thy boast; Long since th' eternal piece is lost---- Thy VENUS now no more expresses, Rising from her watery bed, 300 The moisture from her twisted tresses O'er her dazzling bosom spread--- No more thy colours bloom, effac'd by age, But in the poet's or th' historian's page. XXXIII. Oh then---reject not with disdain, Great Artist, this unpolish'd strain---- Though happy while it may intend Thy shining merits to display, It may serve only in the end My own weak genius to betray, 310 May shew with what presumption I aspire To build the rhyme And tow'er sublime With PINDAR's vanity without his fire. XXXIV. Yet----confide----(for every trifler's breast) And by this influence I presage In the long course of rolling years, When all thy labour disappears, Yet shall this verse descend from age to age, And, breaking from oblivion's shade, 320 Go on, to flourish while thy paintings fade. XXXV. If so---at present though thy hand May glory of itself command, Nor can the muse's laurels now, Though wove with nicer skill than mine, Help to adorn it, while they twine Round thy already loaden brow--- Yes---if my presage is not vain--- Yes---if this verse hereafter should remain--- 330 (Though now indeed as needless quite As at noon's blaze the taper's light) It may then serve to aggrandize thy name, And add some splendor to thy future fame. FINIS. * * * * * * * * * PUBLICATIONS OF THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY