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 WORDSWORTH COLLECTION 
 
 MADE BY 
 
 CYNTHIA MORGAN ST. JOHN 
 
 ITHACA, N. Y. 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 
 VICTOR EMANUEL 
 
 CLASS OF 1919 
 1925 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924104649698 
 
LITERARY PAMPHLETS 
 
 CHIEFLY RELATING TO POETRY 
 
 FROM SIDNEY TO BYRON 
 
 SELECTED AND ARRANGED 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 
 
 By ERNEST RHYS 
 
 VOLUME II 
 
 % 
 
 LONDON 
 KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER & CO. 
 
 1897 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. Milton's ' areopagitica ' . . . 9 
 
 II. Addison's ' a discourse on ancient and 
 
 MODERN learning' .... 97 
 
 III. pope's 'an essay on criticism' . . 124 
 
 IV. BYRON's 'letter to JOHN MURRAY ON 
 
 the rev. w, l. Bowles's strictures 
 
 ON pope' 162 
 
 V. Wordsworth's ' a letter to a friend 
 
 OP ROBERT burns' .... 220 
 
 vl Bowles's appendix — two passages 
 
 FROM ' TWO letters TO THE RIGHT 
 
 HON. LORD BYRON ' . . . .251 
 

 /-I 
 
 AREOPAGITICA ; A Speech of Mr John 
 Milton for the Liberty of Vnlioenc'd 
 Printing, to the Parliament of Eng- 
 land.^ 
 
 TeXevdepov 5'e'Ke»'0, ^t ris BeXet woXei 
 X-prjaoy tl ^oijXev/j,' els fieaov (pepeLV, 'ex^^v. 
 Kai rau^' 6 XPv'i^^"} XafjLTrpos ^aO', 6 firj deXuv, 
 Siya, Tl TO'uTiov iaiv iaalrepov TroXei. ; 
 
 Euripid. Hicetid. 
 
 This is true Liberty when free born men 
 Having to advise the public may speak free, 
 Which he who can, and will, deserv's high praise, 
 Who neither can nor will, may hold his peace ; 
 What can be juster in a State then this 1 
 
 Euripid. Hicetid. 
 
 For the Liberty of Unlicencd Printing. 
 They who to States ^ and Governom-s of the 
 Commonwealth direct their Speech, High Court 
 of Parlament, or wanting such accesse in a pri- 
 vate condition, write that which they foresee 
 may advance the publick good ; I suppose them 
 as at the beginning of no meane endeavour, not 
 a little alter'd and mov'd inwardly in their 
 
 ^ London, Printed in the Yeare, 1644. 
 2 ' States,' i.e. Estates. 
 
 II. A 9 
 
lo AREOPAGITICA 
 
 mindes : Some with doubt of what will be the 
 Hucccsse, others with feare of what will be 
 the censure ; some with hope, others with confi- 
 dence of what tliey have to speake. And me 
 perhaps each of these dispositions, as the sub- 
 ject was whereon I enter'd, may have at other 
 times variously affected ; and likely might in 
 these foremost expressions now also disclose 
 which of them sway'd most, but that the very 
 attempt, of tliis addresse thus made, and the 
 thought of whom it hath recourse to, hath got 
 the power within me to a passion, farre more 
 welcome then incidentall to a Preface. Which 
 though I stay not to confesse ere any aske, I 
 shall be blamelesse, if it be no other, then the 
 joy and gratulation which it brings to all who 
 wish and promote their Countries hberty ; 
 whereof this whole Discom-se propos'd will be a 
 certaine testimony, if not a Trophey,^ For this 
 is not the liberty which wcc can hope, that no 
 grievance ever should arise in the Conmion- 
 wealth, that let no man in this World expect ; 
 but when complaints are freely heard, deeply 
 considcr'd, and speedily refomi'd, then is the 
 utmost bound of civill liberty attain'd, that wise 
 men looke for. To which if I now manifest by 
 
 ' A recent critic quotes the end of this sentence as an 
 instance of Milton's occasional euphuism. 
 
AREOP AGITICA 1 1 
 
 the very sound of this which I shall utter, that 
 wee are already in good part arriv'd, and yet 
 from such a steepe disadvantage of tyranny and 
 superstition grounded into our principles as was 
 beyond the manhood of a Roman recovery, it 
 wUl bee attributed first, as is most due, to the 
 strong assistance of God our dehverer, next to 
 your faithfull guidance and undaunted Wisdome, 
 Lords and Commons of England. Neither is it 
 in Gods esteeme the diminution of his glory, 
 when honourable things are spoken of good 
 men and worthy Magistrates ; which if I now 
 first should begin to doe, after so fair a pro- 
 gresse of your laudable deeds, and such a long 
 obHgement upon the whole Realme to your in- 
 defatigable vertues, I might be justly reckn'd 
 among the tardiest, and the unwillingest of 
 them that praise yee. Neverthelesse there 
 being three principall things, without which 
 all praising is but Courtship and flattery : First, 
 when that only is prais'd which is sohdly worth 
 praise : next, when greatest Hkelihoods are 
 brought that such things are truly and reaUy 
 in those persons to whom they are ascrib'd : the 
 other, when he who praises, by shewing that 
 such his actuall perswasion is of whom he 
 writes, can demonstrate that he flatters not ; 
 the former two of these I have heretofore en- 
 
12 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 deavour'd, rescuing the employment from him 
 who went about to impaire your merits with a 
 triviall and malignant Encomium ; ^ the latter 
 as belonging chiefly to mine owne acquittall, that 
 whom I HO extoll'd I did not flatter, hath been 
 reserv'd opportunely to this occasion. For he 
 who freely magnifies what hath been nobly 
 done, and fears not to declare as freely what 
 might be done better, gives ye the best cov'nant 
 of his fidehty ; and that his loyalest afifection 
 and his hope waits on your proceedings. His 
 highest praising is not flattery, and his plainest 
 advice is a kinde of praising ; for though I 
 should affirme and hold by argument, that it 
 would fare better ^\\t\l truth, with learning, 
 and the Commonwealth, if one of your pubhsht 
 Orders which I should name, were call'd in, 
 yet at the same time it could not but much 
 redound to the lustre of your milde and equaU 
 Government, when as private persons are here- 
 by animated to thinke yc better pleas'd with 
 publick advice, then other statists have been 
 delighted heretofore Avith pubhcke flatteiy. 
 And men \\\\\ then see what difference there 
 is between the magnanimity of a trienniall 
 Parlament, and that jealous hautinesse of 
 Prelates and cabin Comisellours that usurpt of 
 
 1 I.e. Bishop Hall, of ' Smectymnuus ' notoriety. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 13 
 
 late, when as they shall observe yee m the 
 midd'st of your Victories and successes more 
 gently brooking writt'n exceptions against a 
 voted Order, then other Courts, which had 
 produc't nothing worth memory but the weake 
 ostentation of wealth, would have endur'd the 
 least signifi'd dislike at any sudden Proclama- 
 tion. If I should thus farre presume upon the 
 meek demeanour of your civill and gentle great- 
 nesse. Lords and Commons, as what your pub- 
 lisht Order hath directly said, that to gainsay, 
 I might defend my selfe with ease, if any should 
 accuse me of being new or insolent, did they 
 but know how much better I find ye esteem it 
 to imitate the old and elegant humanity of 
 Greece, then the barbarick pride of a Hunnish 
 and Norwegian state-lines. And out of those 
 ages, to whose polite wisdom and letters we 
 ow that we are not yet Gothes and Jutlanders, 
 I could name him ^ who from his private house 
 wrote that discourse to the Parlament oi Athens, 
 that perswades them to change the forme of 
 Democraty which was then estabhsht. Such 
 honour was done in those dayes to men who 
 profest the study of wisdome and eloquence, 
 not only in their own Country, but in other 
 
 1 Isocrates : on whose Areopagitic Discourse Milton's 
 thoughts run so continually in the present essay. 
 
14 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 Lands, that Cities and Siniories ^ heard them 
 gladly, and with great respect, if they had 
 ought in publick to admonish the State. Thus 
 did Dion Primeus ^ a stranger and a privat 
 Orator counsell the Bhodians against a former 
 Edict : and I abound with other like examples, 
 which to set hecr would be superfluous. But if 
 from the industry of a life wholly dedicated to 
 studious labours, and those naturall endow- 
 ments haply not the worst for two and fifty 
 degrees of northern latitude, so much must be 
 derogated, as to count me not equall to any of 
 those who had this pri^iledge, I would obtain 
 to be thought not so inferior, as your selves are 
 superior to the most of them who receiv'd their 
 counsell : and how farre you excell them, be 
 assur'd Lords and Commons, there can no 
 greater testimony appear, then when your pru- 
 dent spirit acknowledges and obeyes the voice 
 of reason from what quarter soever it be heard 
 speaking ; and rendei-s ye as ^villing to repeal 
 any Act of your own setting forth, as any set 
 forth by your predecessors. 
 
 If ye be thus resolv'd, as it were injury to 
 
 ' ' Siniories,' — Seigniories ; baronies. 
 
 "Dion Prusaeus, — known as 'Chrysostomos,' because 
 of his eloquence. The oration referred to was directed 
 against the Rhodian economy in using statues over and 
 over again for different public men. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 15 
 
 thinke ye were not, I know not what should 
 withhold me from presenting ye with a fit in- 
 stance wherein to shew both that love of truth 
 which ye eminently professe, and that upright- 
 nesse of your judgement which is not wont to 
 be partiall to your selves ; by judging over 
 again that Order which ye have ordain'd to 
 regulate Printing.'^ That no Book, pamphlet, 
 or paper shall he henceforth Printed, unlesse the 
 same be first approvd and licenct by such, or at 
 least one of such as shall be thereto appointed. 
 For that part which preserves justly every mans 
 Copy to himselfe, or provides for the poor, I 
 touch not, only wish they be not made pretenses 
 to abuse and persecute honest and painfull Men, 
 who offend not in either of these particulars. 
 But that other clause of Licencing Books, which 
 we thought had dy'd with his brother quadrage- 
 simal and matrimonial ^ when the Prelats ex- 
 pir'd,'^ I shall now attend with such a Homily, as 
 shall lay before ye, first the inventors of it to bee 
 those whom ye will be loath to own; next what is 
 to be thought in general! of reading, whatever 
 
 1 The order is dated ' Die Mercurii, 14 June 1643.' 
 Vide Introduction : Vol. i., p. 21. 
 
 '^ I.e., enactments as to the legal restrictions of food 
 during Lent ; and as to marriage licenses. 
 
 3 The Bishops were, so to speak, de-prelatized in 1641 
 when they were ejected from the House of Lords. 
 
i6 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 sort the Books be ; and that this Order avails 
 nothing to the suppressing of scandalous, sedi- 
 tious, and libellous Books, which were mainly 
 intended to be supprest. Last, that it will be 
 primely to the discouragement of all learning, 
 and the stop of Truth, not only by the disexer- 
 cising and blunting our abilities in what we 
 know already, but by hindring and cropping the 
 discovery that might bee yet further made both 
 in religious and civill Wisdome. 
 
 I deny not, but that it Ls of greatest concern- 
 ment in the Church and Commonwealth, to have 
 a vigilant eye how Bookes demeane themselves 
 as well as men ; and thereafter to confine, 
 imprison, and do sharpest justice on them as 
 malefactors : For Books are not absolutely 
 dead things, but doe contain a poteucie of life 
 in them to be as active as that soule was whose 
 progeny they are ; nay they do preserve as in 
 a violl the purest efficaeie and extraction of 
 that living intellect that bred them. I know 
 they are as lively, and as vigorously productive, 
 as those fabulous Dragons teeth ; ^ and being 
 sown up and down, may chance to spring up 
 armed men. And yet on the other hand un- 
 lesse warinesse be us'd, as good almost kill a 
 Man as kill a good Book ; who kills a Man 
 
 ^ Cf. Ovid : Metamorphoses, vii. 121. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 17 
 
 kills a reasonable creature, Gods Image ; but 
 hee who destroyes a good Booke, kills reason 
 it selfe, kills the Image of God, as it were in 
 the eye. Many a man lives a burden to the 
 Earth ; but a good Booke is the pretious life- 
 blood of a master spirit, imbalm'd and treasur'd 
 up on purpose to a life beyond life. 'Tis true, 
 no age can restore a life, whereof perhaps there 
 is no great losse ; and revolutions of ages doe 
 not oft recover the losse of a rejected truth, for 
 the want of which whole Nations fare the 
 worse. We should be wary therefore what 
 persecution we raise against the living labours 
 of publick men, how we spill that season'd 
 life of man preserv'd and stor'd up in Books ; 
 since we see a kinde of homicide may be 
 thus committed, sometimes a martyrdome, 
 and if it extend to the whole impression, 
 a kinde of massacre, whereof the execution 
 ends not in the slaying of an elementall life, 
 but strikes at that ethereall and fift essence, 
 the breath of reason it selfe ; slaies an immor- 
 taUty rather then a life. But lest I should 
 be condemn'd of introducing licence, while I 
 oppose Licencing, I refuse not the paines to be 
 so much Historicall, as will serve to shew what 
 hath been done by ancient and famous Com- 
 monwealths, against this disorder, till the very 
 
1 8 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 time that this project of licencing crept out of 
 the Inquisition, was catcht up by our Prelates, 
 and hath caught some of our Presbyters. 
 
 In Athens where Books and Wits were 
 busier tlicn in any other part of Greece, I 
 find but only two sorts of writings which the 
 Magistrate car'd to take notice of ; those either 
 blasphemous and Atheisticall, or Libellous. 
 Thus the Books of Protagoras^ were by the 
 Judges of Areopagus commanded to be burnt, 
 and himselfe banisht the territory for a dis- 
 course begun with his confessing not to know 
 tvhether there tvere gods, or whether not: And 
 against defaming, it was decreed that none should 
 be traduc'd by name, as was the manner of Vetus 
 Comosdia,'^ whereby we may guesse how they 
 censur'd libelling : And this com^se was quick 
 enough, as Cicero writes, to quell both the 
 desperate wits of other Atheists, and the open 
 way of defaming, as the event sliew'd. Of 
 other sects and opinions though tending to 
 voluptuousnesse, and the denying of divine 
 providence they tooke no heed. Therefore we 
 do not read that either Epicurus, or that liber- 
 tine school of Cyrene,^ or what the Cynick 
 
 1 The first sophist, who was indicted at Athens in 411 b.c. 
 
 - The earlier Greek comedy, down to Aristophanes, dealt 
 freely in personalities. Cf. Horace, ^jjisi. adPisones, 281-84. 
 
 ^ The School of Aristippus. V. Cicero, Academica ii. 
 42, 151. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 19 
 
 impudence ^ utter'd, was ever question'd by 
 the Laws. Neither is it recorded that the 
 writings of those old Comedians were sup- 
 prest, though the acting of them were forbid ; 
 and that Plato commended the reading of 
 Aristophanes the loosest of them all, to his 
 royall scholler Dionysius,^ is commonly known, 
 and may be excus'd, if holy Chrysostome, as is 
 reported, nightly studied so much the same 
 Author and had the art to cleanse a scurrilous 
 vehemence into the still of a rousing Sermon. 
 That other leading City of Greece, Lacedcemon, 
 considering that Lycurgus^ their Law-giver was 
 so addicted to elegant learning, as to have been 
 the first that brought out of Ionia the scatter'd 
 workes of Homer, and sent the Poet Thales'^ 
 from Greet to prepare and mollifie the Spartan 
 surlinesse with his smooth songs and odes, the 
 better to plant among them law and civility, 
 it is to be wonder'd how museless and 
 unbookish they were, minding nought but 
 the feats of Warre. They needed no licenc- 
 ing of Books among them for they dislik'd 
 all, but their owne Laconick Apothegms, and 
 
 1 Gf. Diogenes, Laertus, p. 164, fol. 1664 (Holt White). 
 
 ■^ Cf. p. 50 1. 3. 
 
 ^ Cf. Plutarch ; Lycurgus. 
 
 ^ Thaletus ; the poet and musician ; who, however, 
 lived some couple of centuries or more after Lycurgus. 
 Milton waa misled by Plutarch in his Lycurgus. 
 
20 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 took a slight occasion to chase Archilochus 
 out of their City,^ perhaps for composing in a 
 higher straine then their owne souldierly ballats 
 and roundels could reach to : Or if it were for 
 his broad verses, they were not therein so cau- 
 tious, but they were as dissolute in their promis- 
 cuous conversing ; whence Euripides affimies in 
 Andromache, that their women were all un- 
 chaste. Thus much may give us light after 
 what sort Bookes were prohibited among the 
 Greeks. The Romans also for many ages 
 train'd up only to a military roughnes, resem- 
 bling most of the Lacedcemonian guise, knew of 
 learning little but what their twelve Tables,^ 
 and the Pontifick College^ "vWth their Augurs 
 and Flamins taught them in Religion and Law, 
 so unacquainted with other learning, that when 
 Carneades^ and Critolaus,° ^vith the Stoick 
 Diogenes^ comming Embassadoi*s to Rome, tooke 
 thereby occasion to give the City a tast of their 
 
 1 Of. Plutarch, ItisL Lacon., 239, 3 (Hales). 
 
 2 The Tables (ten originally) of the Decemvir Code. 
 
 ^ The ' Bridge-makers ' : whose function as engineers 
 led on to their wider role of civic and religious masters of 
 the ceremonies. 
 
 ■* 'Founder of the New Academy at Athens' (213-129 
 
 B.C.). 
 
 ^ The Lycian, who succeeded Ariston in the peripatetic 
 school. 
 
 •^ Diogenes Babylonios : not to be confused with the 
 better known cynic. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 21 
 
 Philosophy, they were suspected for seducers 
 by no lesse a man then Cato the Censor, who 
 niov'd it in the Senat to dismisse them speedUy, 
 and to banish all such Attick bablers out of 
 Italy. But Scipio and others of the noblest 
 Senators withstood him and his old Sabin aus- 
 terity ; honour'd and admir'd the men ; and the 
 Censor himself at last in his old age fell to the 
 study of that whereof before hee was so scrupu- 
 lous. And yet at the same time Ncevius ^ and 
 Plautus the first Latine comedians had fill'd the 
 City with all the borrow'd Scenes of Mencmder 
 and Philemon. Then began to be consider'd 
 there also what was to be don to libellous books 
 and Authors ; for Ncevius was quickly cast into 
 prison for his unbridl'd pen,^ and releas'd by 
 the Tribunes upon his recantation : We read 
 also that libels were burnt, and the makers 
 punisht by Augustus. The like severity no 
 doubt was us'd if ought were impiously writt'n 
 against their esteemed gods. Except in these 
 two points, how the world went in Books, the 
 Magistrat kept no reckning. And therefore 
 Lucretius without impeachment versifies his 
 Epicurism to Memmius,^ and had the honour 
 
 ^ " The first Roman who deserves to be called a poet" 
 (Mommsen). 
 - For his strictures against the Metelli. 
 ^ V. his De Natura Rerum. 
 
22 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 to be set forth the second time by Cicero so 
 great a father of the Commonwealth ; although 
 himselfe disputes against that opinion in his 
 own writings. Nor was the SatyricaU sharp- 
 nesse, or naked plainnes of Lucilius,^ or Catul- 
 lus, or Flaccus, by any order prohibited. And 
 for matters of State, the story of Titius Ldvius,^ 
 though it extoU'd that part which Pompey held, 
 was not therefore supprest by Octavins Cmsar 
 of the other Faction. But that Naso was by 
 him banisht in his old age, for the wanton 
 Poems of his youth, was but a meer covert of 
 State over some secret cause : ^ and besides, the 
 Books were neither banisht nor caU'd in. From 
 hence we shall meet mth little else but tyranny 
 in the Roman Empire, that we may not marveU, 
 if not so often bad, as good Books were sdeuc't. 
 I shall therefore deem to have bin large anough 
 in producing what among the ancients was 
 punishable to wi-ite, save only wliich, all other 
 arguments were fi'ee to treat on. 
 
 By this time the Emperoiu-s were become 
 Christians, whose disciphne in this point I doe 
 not finde to have bin more severe then what 
 
 1 Horace's master in satire. Cf. his Satire, II. i. 29-34. 
 ^ Cf. Tacitus, Annal., iv. 34. 
 
 2 The real cause of Ovid's banishment is still open to 
 question. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 23 
 
 was formerly in practice. The Books of those 
 whom they took to be grand Hereticks were 
 examin'd, refuted, and condemn'd in the generall 
 Councels ; and not till then were prohibited, or 
 burnt by autority of the Emperor. As for the 
 writings of Heathen authors, unlesse they were 
 plaine invectives against Christianity, as those 
 of Porphyrins ^ and Proclus,^ they met with no 
 interdict that can be cited, till about the year 
 400, in a Carthaginian Councel, wherein Bishops 
 themselves were forbid to read the Books of 
 Gentiles, but Heresies they might read : while 
 others long before them on the contrary scrupl'd 
 more the Books of Hereticks, then of Gentiles. 
 And that the primitive Councels and Bishops 
 were wont only to declare what Books were not 
 commendable, passing no furder, but leaving it 
 to each ones conscience to read or to lay by, till 
 after the year 800 is observ'd already by Padre 
 Paolo ^ the great unmasker of the Trentine 
 
 ^ Porphyry, Origen's pupil, whose famous work against 
 Christianity, publickly burnt by Constantino's order, has 
 completely disappeared. 
 
 ^ Proclus ; Diadoehos — Plato's disciple. 
 
 ^ Pietro Sarpi (1552-1623) ; a famous fighter against 
 the papal supremacy ; and historian of the Council of 
 Trent (v. Brent's English translation of 1620). Cf. 
 Milton's " Of Reformation in England," where he speaks 
 of him as " the great Venetian antagonist of the Pope " 
 (Hales). 
 
24 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 Councel. After which time the Popes of Rorm 
 engrossing what they pleas'd of Politicall rule 
 into their owne hands, extended their do- 
 minion over mens eyes, as they had before 
 over their judgements, burning and prohibit- 
 ing to be read, what they fancied not ; yet 
 sparing in their censures, and the Books not 
 many which they so dealt with : till Martin 
 the 5,^ by his Bull not only prohibited, but 
 was the first that excommunicated the reading 
 of hereticall Books ; for about that time Wickhf 
 and Husse growing terrible, were they who first 
 drove the Papall Court to a stricter policy of 
 prohibiting. Which cours Leo the 10,- and his 
 successors follow'd, untill the Councell of Trent, 
 and the Spanish Inquisition engendring together 
 brought forth, or perfcted those Catalogues, 
 and expurging Indexes that rake through the 
 entrails of many an old good Author, with a 
 violation wors then any could be offer'd to his 
 tomb. Nor did they stay in mattei"s Hereticall, 
 but any subject that was not to their palat, 
 they either condemn'd in a prohibition, or had 
 it strait into the new Purgatory of an Index. 
 To fill up the measure of encroachment, theii' 
 last invention was to ordain that no Book, 
 pamphlet, or paper should be Printed (as if 
 
 1 Pope, 1417-1424. "~ Pope, 1513-1522. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 25 
 
 S. Peter had bequeath'd them the keys of the 
 Presse also out of Paradise) unlesse it were 
 appro v'd and licenc't under the hands of 2 or 3 
 glutton Friers. For example : 
 
 Let the Chancellor Cini be pleas'd to see if 
 in this present work be contain'd ought that 
 may withstand the Printing, 
 
 Vincent Rabatta Vicar of Florence. 
 I have seen this present work, and finde 
 nothing athwart the Catholick faith and good 
 manners : In witnesse whereof I have given, &c. 
 
 Nicolb Cini, Chancellor of Florence. 
 Attending the precedent relation, it is al- 
 low'd that this present work of Davanzati ^ 
 may be Printed, 
 
 Vincent Rabatta, &c. 
 
 It may be Printed, July 15. 
 
 Friar Simon Mompei d' Amelia Chancellor 
 of the holy office in Florence. 
 
 Sure they have a conceit, if he of the bottom- 
 lesse pit had not long since broke prison, that 
 this quadruple exorcism vrould barre him down. 
 I feare their next design will be to get into 
 
 1 Bernardo Davanzati Bostichi (1529 - 1606). Prof. 
 Hales tells us that Milton refers to his Scisma d'lnghil- 
 terra ; not printed (at Florence) till 1638. 
 
 II. B 
 
26 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 their custody the licencing of that which they 
 say Claudius ^ intended, but went not through 
 witli. Voutsafe to see another of their forms, 
 tlie Roman stamp : 
 
 Imprimatur, If it seem good to the reverend 
 Master of the holy Palace, 
 
 Belcastro, Vicegerent. 
 
 Imprimatur, 
 
 Friar Nicold Rodolphi Master of the holy 
 Palace. Sometimes 5 Imprimaturs are seen 
 together dialoguewise in the Piatza of one 
 Title page, comj)lementing and ducking each 
 to other with their shav'n reverences, whether 
 the Author, who stands by in perplexity at 
 the foot of his Epistle, shall to the Presse or 
 to the spunge. These are the prety respon- 
 sories, these are the deare Antiphonies that so 
 bewitcht of late our Prelats, and their Chap- 
 laines with the goodly Eccho they made ; and 
 besotted us to the gay imitation of a lordly 
 Imprimatur, one from Lambeth house, another 
 from the West end of Pauls;'- so apishly 
 Romanizing, that the word of command still 
 was set downe in Latine ; as if the learned 
 
 1 ' Quo veniam daret flatiim crepitumque ventris in 
 convivio omitondi. Sueton. in Claudio. ' (Author's note. ) 
 
 " The Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of 
 London were empowered by the Star Chamber in 1637 
 to act as licensers of books. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 27 
 
 Grammatical! pen that wrote it, would cast 
 no ink without Latine ; or perhaps, as they 
 thought, because no vulgar tongue was worthy 
 to expresse the pure conceit of an Imprimatur ; 
 but rather, as I hope, for that our English, the 
 language of men ever famous, and foremost in 
 the achievements of liberty, will not easUy finde 
 servile letters anow to spell such a dictatorie 
 presumption English. And thus ye have the 
 Inventors and the originall of Book-licencing 
 ript up, and drawn as lineally as any pedi- 
 gree. We have it not, that can be heard of, 
 from any ancient State, or politic, or Church, 
 nor by any Statute left us by our Ancestors, 
 elder or later ; nor from the moderne custom 
 of any reformed Citty, or Church abroad ; 
 but from the most Antichristian Councel, 
 and the most tyrannous Inquisition that ever 
 inquir'd. Till then Books were ever as freely 
 admitted into the World as any other birth ; 
 the issue of the brain was no more stifl'd then 
 the issue of the womb : no envious Juno sate 
 cross-leg'd over the nativity of any mans intel- 
 lectual ofF-spring ; ^ but if it prov'd a Monster, 
 who denies, but that it was justly burnt, or 
 sunk in the Sea. But that a Book in wors con- 
 
 1 Cf. Ovid, Metam., ix. 281-323, and Catullus, xxxiv. 13, 
 ' ad Dianam.' 
 
28 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 dition then a peccant soul, should be to stand 
 before a Jury ere it be borne to the World, 
 and undergo yet in darknesse the judgement 
 of Badamanth and his Colleagues,^ ere it can 
 passe the ferry backward into light, was never 
 heard before, till that mysterious iniquity pro- 
 vokt and troubl'd at the first entrance of Re- 
 formation, sought out new limbo's and new 
 hells wherein they might include our Books 
 also within the number of their damned. And 
 this was the rare morsell so officiously snatcht 
 up, and so ilfavourdly imitated by our inquisi- 
 turient Bishops, and the attendant minorites ^ 
 their Chaplains. That ye like not now these 
 most certain Authors of this licencing order, 
 and that all sinister intention was farre dis- 
 tant from your thoughts, when ye were im- 
 portun'd the passing it, all men who know the 
 integrity of your actions, and how ye honoiu* 
 Truth, will clear yee readily. 
 
 But some will say, what though the Inventors 
 were bad, the thing for all that may be good ? 
 It may so : yet if that thing be no such deep 
 invention, but obvious, and easie for any man 
 
 ^ Rhadamanthus, ^acus, and Minos were the triune 
 Justices of Hades. Cf. Virgil, ^En., vi. 566. 
 
 2 Milton, to show his contempt for the^Chaplains, calls 
 them 'minorites,' literally grey-friars. Cf. his reference 
 ante, to ' glutten friars. ' 
 
AREOPAGITICA 
 
 29 
 
 to light on, and yet best and wisest Common- 
 wealths through all ages, and occasions have 
 forborne to use it, and falsest seducers, and 
 oppressors of men were the first who tooke it 
 up, and to no other purpose but to obstruct 
 and hinder the first approach of Reformation ; 
 I am of those who beleeve, it will be a harder 
 alchymy then Lullius ^ ever knew, to sublimat 
 any good use out of such an invention. Yet 
 this only is what I request to gain from this 
 reason, that it may be held a dangerous and 
 suspicious fruit, as certainly it deserves, for the 
 tree that bore it, untill I can dissect one by one 
 the properties it has. But I have first to finish, 
 as was propounded, what is to be thought in 
 generall of reading Books, what ever sort they 
 be, and whether be more the benefit, or the 
 harm that thence proceeds ? 
 
 Not to insist upon the examples of Moses, 
 Daniel, and Paul, who were skilfull in all the 
 learning of the -^Egyptians, Caldeans, and 
 Greeks, which could not probably be without 
 reading their Books of all sorts, in Paul 
 especially, who thought it no defilement to 
 insert into holy Scripture the sentences of three 
 
 1 Raymond LuUy (1234-1315), dubbed for his learning 
 Doctor Illuminatissimus : an Hermetic philosopher, whose 
 chief work is his Ars Magna. He was stoned by the 
 Moors eventually, a victim to his missionary zeal. 
 
30 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 Greek Poets/ and one of them a Tragedian, 
 the question was, notwithstanding sometimes 
 controverted among the Primitive Doctors, but 
 witli great odds on that side which affirm'd it 
 both lawful! and profitable, as was then evi- 
 dently perceiv'd, when Julian the Apostat,^ 
 and suttlest enemy to our faith, made a decree 
 forbidding Christians the study of heathen 
 learning : for, said he, they wound us with 
 our own weapons, and with our owne arts and 
 sciences they overcome us. And indeed the 
 Christians were put so to their shifts by this 
 crafty means, and so much in danger to decline 
 into all ignorance, that the two ApolUnarii ^ 
 were fain as a man may say, to coin all the 
 seven liberall Sciences out of the Bible, re- 
 ducing it into divers forms of Orations, Poems, 
 Dialogues, ev'n to the calculating of a new 
 Christian Grammar. But saith the Historian 
 Socrates,^ The pro\'idence of God pro^"ided 
 better then the industry of Apollinarlus and 
 his son, by taking away that ilHterat law with 
 
 1 Milton may have borrowed the reference from 
 Sidney's Apologie. Cf. ante, vol. i., p. 123. 
 
 - V. Jidian : Opera, (in the Paris quarto of 1630), st. ii. 
 pp. 192-5. 
 
 ■' Apollinarios of Alexandria and his son, who achieved 
 the extraordinary task of turning the Bible into Homeric 
 Platonic, and other great classic forms. 
 
 ^ V. his Ecclesiastical History, iii. 16. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 
 
 31 
 
 the life of him who devis'd it. So great an 
 injury they then held it to be depriv'd of 
 Hellenick learning ; and thought it a persecu- 
 tion more undermining and secretly decaying 
 the Church, then the open cruelty of Decius or 
 Dioclesian. And perhaps it was the same poli- 
 tick drift that the Divell whipt St Jerom in a 
 lenten dream, for reading Cicero ; ^ or else it 
 was a fantasm bred by the feaver which had 
 then seis'd him. For had an Angel bin his dis- 
 cipUner, unlesse it were for dwelling too much 
 upon Ciceronianisms, and had chastiz'd the read- 
 ing, not the vanity, it had bin plainly partiall ; 
 first to correct him for grave Cicero, and not 
 for scurrill Plautus ^ whom he confesses to have 
 bin reading not long before ; next to correct 
 him only, and let so many more ancient Fathers 
 wax old in those pleasant and florid studies 
 without the lash of such a tutoring apparition ; 
 insomuch that BasiP teaches how some good 
 use may be made of Margites a sportful! Poem, 
 not now extant, writ by Homer ;^ and why 
 not then of Morgante^ an Italian Romanze 
 
 1 V. St Jerome, Epist. 18, ' Ad Euatochium de 
 Virginit. ' 
 
 2 V. again the Epistle to Eustochium. 
 '^ Bishop of Caesarea, 370-379. 
 
 ^ The Margites was commonly assigned to Homer in 
 Milton's time. Cf. Aristotle, Poetics, iv. 
 ^ Pulci's Morgante Maggiore (1488). 
 
32 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 much to the same purpose. But if it be agreed 
 we shall be try'd by visions, there is a vision 
 recorded by Eusebius far ancienter then this 
 tale of Jerom to the nun Eustochium, and 
 besides has nothing of a feavor in it. Dionysius 
 Alexandrinus was about the year 240/ a person 
 of great name in the Church for piety and learn- 
 ing, who had wont to avail himself much against 
 hereticks by being conversant in their Books ; 
 untill a certain Presbyter laid it scrupulously 
 to his conscience, how he durst venture himselfe 
 among those defiling volumes. The worthy 
 man loath to give oiFence fell into a new debate 
 with himselfe what was to be thought ; when 
 suddenly a vision sent fi'om God, it is his own 
 Epistle that so averrs it, confirmd him in these 
 words : Read any books what ever come to 
 thy hands, for thou art sufficient both to judge 
 aright, and to examine each matter. To this 
 revelation he assented the sooner, as he con- 
 fesses, because it was answerable to that of 
 the Apostle to the Thessalonians, Prove all 
 things, hold fast that which is good. And he 
 might have added another remarkable saying 
 of the same Author ; To the pure all things are 
 pure, not only meats and drinks, but all kinde 
 of knowledge whether of good or evill ; the 
 
 1 Bishop of Alexandria, 247-265. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 33 
 
 knowledge cannot defile, nor consequently the 
 books, if the will and conscience be not defil'd. 
 For books are as meats and viands are, some 
 of good, some of evill substance ; and yet God 
 in that unapocryphall vision, said without ex- 
 ception. Rise Peter, kill and eat, leaving the 
 choice to each mans discretion. Wholesome 
 meats to a vitiated stomach differ little or 
 nothing from unwholesome ; and best books to 
 a naughty mind are not unappliable to occasions 
 of evill. Bad meats will scarce breed good 
 nourishment in the healthiest concoction ; but 
 herein the difference is of bad books, that they 
 to a discreet and judicious Reader serve in 
 many respects to discover, to confute, to fore- 
 warn, and to illustrate. Whereof what better 
 witnes can ye expect I should produce, then 
 one of your own now sitting in Parlament, the 
 chief of learned men reputed in this Land, Mr 
 Selden, whose volume of naturall and national 
 laws^ proves, not only by great authorities 
 brought together, but by exquisite reasons and 
 theorems almost mathematically demonstrative, 
 that all opinions, yea errors, known, read, and 
 collated, are of main service and assistance 
 toward the speedy attainment of what is 
 truest. I conceive therefore, that when God 
 
 ^ Seidell's DeJure Naturali et Gentium, &c. (1640). 
 
34 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 did enlarge the universal! diet of mans body, 
 saving ever the rules of temperance, he then 
 also, as before, left arbitrary the dyeting and 
 repasting of our minds ; as wherein every 
 mature man might have to exercise his owne 
 leading capacity. How great a vertue is tem- 
 perance, how much of moment through the 
 whole life of man ? yet God committs the 
 managing so great a trust, without particular 
 Law or prescription, wholly to the demeanour 
 of every grown man. And therefore when he 
 himself tabid the Jews from heaven, that 
 Omer ^ which was every mans daily portion of 
 Manna,^ is computed to have bin more then 
 might have well suffic'd the heartiest feeder 
 thrice as many meals. For those actions which 
 enter into a man, rather then issue out of him, 
 and therefore defile not, God uses not to cap- 
 tivat under a perpetuall childhood of prescrip- 
 tion, but trusts him with the gift of reason to 
 be his own chooser ; there were but little work 
 left for preaching, if law and compulsion should 
 grow so fast upon those things which hertofore 
 were govern 'd only by exhortation. Salomon 
 informs us that nuich reading is a wearines 
 to the flesh ; but neither he, nor other inspir'd 
 author tells us that such, or such reading 
 
 1 About five pints. - Qf. Exodus xvi. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 35 
 
 is unlawful!: yet certainly had God thought 
 good to Hmit us herein^ it had bin much 
 more expedient to have told us what was un- 
 lawfiill, then what was wearisome. As for the 
 burning of those Ephesian books by St Pauls 
 converts, tis reply'd the books were magick, 
 the Syriack so renders them. It was a privat 
 act, a voluntary act, and leaves us to a volun- 
 tary imitation : the men in remorse burnt those 
 books which were their own ; the Magistrat 
 by this example is not appointed : these men 
 practiz'd the books, another might perhaps 
 have read them in some sort usefully. Good 
 and evill we know in the field of this World 
 grow up together almost inseparably ; and the 
 knowledge of good is so involv'd and inter- 
 woven with the knowledge of evill, and in so 
 many cunning resemblances hardly to be dis- 
 cern'd, that those confused seeds which were 
 impos'd on Psyche^ as an incessant labour to 
 cull out, and sort asunder, were not more 
 intermixt. It was from out the rinde of one 
 apple tasted, that the knowledge of good and 
 evill as two twins cleaving together leapt forth 
 into the World. And perhaps this is that 
 doom which Adam fell into of knowing good 
 and evill, that is to say of knowing good 
 
 1 Of. The Golden Ass of Apuleius, Bks. iv., v., and vi. 
 
36 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 by evill. As therefore the state of man now 
 is ; what wisdome can there be to choose, what 
 continence to forbeare without the knowledge 
 of cvill ? He that can apprehend and consider 
 vice with all her baits and seeming pleasures, 
 and yet abstain, and yet distinguish, and yet 
 prefer that which is truly better, he is the true 
 warfaring Christian. I cannot praise a fugitive 
 and cloister'd vertue, unexercis'd and unbreath'd, 
 that never sallies out and sees her adversary, 
 but slinks out of the race, where that immortall 
 garland is to be run for, not without dust and 
 heat. Assuredly we bring not innocence into 
 the world, we bring impurity much rather : that 
 which purifies us is trial], and triall is by what 
 is contrary. That vertue therefore which is but 
 a youngling in the contemplation of evill, and 
 knows not the utmost that \'ice promises to her 
 followers, and rejects it, is but a blank vertue, 
 not a pure ; her whitenesse is but an excre- 
 mentall whitenesse ; Which was the reason why 
 our sage and serious Poet Spencer, whom I dare 
 be known to think a better teacher than Scotus^ 
 or Aquinas,^ describing true temperance under 
 the person of Guion,^ brings him in with his 
 palmer through the cave of Mammon, and the 
 
 1 John Duns Scotus, called Doctor Subtilis (1235-1308). 
 - St Thomas Aquinas, called Doctor Angelicus (1224- 
 1274). 3 paerie Queene, iii. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 37 
 
 bowr of earthly blisse that he might see and 
 know, and yet abstain. Since therefore the 
 knowledge and survay of vice is in this world 
 so necessary to the constituting of human vertue, 
 and the scanning of error to the confirmation of 
 truth, how can we more safely, and with lesse 
 danger scout into the regions of sin and falsity 
 then by reading all manner of tractats, and 
 hearing all manner of reason? And this is 
 the benefit which may be had of books promis- 
 cuously read. But of the harm that may result 
 hence three kinds are usually reckn'd. First, 
 is fear'd the infection that may spread ; but 
 then all human learning and controversie in 
 religious points must remove out of the world, 
 yea the Bible it selfe ; for that oftimes relates 
 blasphemy not nicely, it describes the carnall 
 sense of wicked men not unelegantly, it brings 
 in holiest men passionately murmuring against 
 providence through all the arguments of Exn- 
 curus : in other great disputes it answers 
 dubiously and darkly to the common reader: 
 And ask a Talmudest what ails the modesty 
 of his marginall Keri,i that Moses and all the 
 Prophets cannot perswade him to pronounce 
 the textuall Chetiv.^ For these causes we all 
 
 1 Marginal glosses. (^en = read.) 
 
 2 The written word. {Kethiv = written.) 
 
38 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 know the Bible it selfe put by the Papist 
 into the first rank of prohibited books. The 
 ancientest Fathers must be next remov'd, as 
 Clement of Alexandria, and that Eusehian book 
 of Evangelick preparation/ transmitting our 
 ears through a hoard of heathenish obscenities 
 to receive the Gospel. Who finds not that 
 Irenceus,'^ Epiphanius,^ Jerom, and others dis- 
 cover more heresies then they well confute, 
 and that oft for heresie which is the truer 
 opinion. Nor boots it to say for these, and 
 all the heathen Writers of greatest infection, 
 if it must be thought so, with whom is boimd 
 up the life of human learning, that they writ 
 in an unknown tongue, so long as we are sure 
 those languages are kno^vn as well to the worst 
 of men, who are both most able, and most dili- 
 gent to instill the poison they suck, first into 
 the Courts of Princes, acquainting them with 
 the choicest delights, and criticisms of sin. As 
 perhaps did that Petron ins * whom Nero call'd 
 his Arbiter, the Master of liis revels ; and that 
 notorious ribald of Arezzo, dreaded, and yet 
 dear to the Italian Courtiers. I name not him 
 
 1 Eusebius: (264-340). 
 - Bishop of Lyons in the 2nd century. 
 '^ Bishop of Salamis in the 4th century. 
 4 Petronius Arbiter : the Prince of Decadents, who 
 committed characteristic suicide, a.d. 66. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 39 
 
 for posterities sake, whom Harry the 8. nam'd 
 in merriment his Vicar of hell.^ By which 
 compendious way all the contagion that foreine 
 books can infuse, will finde a passage to the 
 people farre easier and shorter then an Indian 
 voyage, though it could be sail'd either by the 
 North of Cataio^ Eastward, or of Canada 
 Westward, while our Spanish licencing gags 
 the Enghsh presse never so severely. But on 
 the other side that infection which is from 
 books of controversie in Religion, is more 
 doubtfuU and dangerous to the learned, then 
 to the ignorant ; and yet those books must be 
 permitted untoucht by the licencer. It will be 
 hard to instance where any ignorant man hath 
 bin ever seduc't by Papisticall book in English, 
 unlesse it were commended and expounded to 
 him by some of that Clergy : and indeed all 
 such tractats whether false or true are as the 
 Prophesie of Isaiah was to the Eunuch, not to 
 be understood without a guide. But of our 
 Priests and Doctors how many have bin cor- 
 rupted by studying the comments of Jesuits 
 and Sorbonists,'^ and how fast they could trans- 
 
 1 The Poet, Skelton : Rector (not Vicar) of Diss, — a 
 name on which Henry VIII. found it easy to pun, asso- 
 ciating it with the infernal Dis. 
 
 2 Cathay. 
 
 ^ The divine doctors of the Sorbonne. 
 
40 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 fuse that corruption into the people, our ex- 
 perience is both late and sad. It is not forgot, 
 since the acute and distinct Arminius^ was 
 perverted meerly by the perusing of a namelesse 
 discours writt'n at Delf,'^ which at first he took 
 in hand to confute. Seeing therefore that 
 those books, and those in great abundance 
 which are likeliest to taint both life and doc- 
 trine, cannot be supprest without the fall of 
 learning, and of all ability in disputation, and 
 that these books of either sort are most and 
 soonest catching to the learned, from whom to 
 the common people what ever is hereticall or 
 dissolute may quickly be convey 'd, and that 
 evill manners are as perfectly learnt without 
 books a thousand other ways which cannot be 
 stopt, and evill doctrine not with books can 
 propagate, except a teacher guide, which he 
 might also doe without \mting, and so beyond 
 prohibiting, I am not able to unfold, how 
 this cautelous enterprise of Ucencing can be 
 exempted from the number of vain and impos- 
 sible attempts. And he who were pleasantly 
 dispos'd, could not well avoid to lik'n it to 
 
 1 The founder of Arminianism. 
 
 2 The discourse was written by certain divines of Delft, 
 contra Beza, whom A. was directed to defend ; but he 
 found their argument so convincing that he went over 
 to their side. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 41 
 
 the exploit of that gallant man who thought 
 to pound up the crows by shutting his Park- 
 gate. Besides another inconvenience, if learned 
 men be the first receivers out of books and dis- 
 predders both of vice and error, how shall the 
 licencers themselves be confided in, unlesse we 
 can conferr upon them, or they assume to them- 
 selves above all others in the Land, the grace 
 of infallibility, and uncorruptednesse ? And 
 again if it be true, that a wise man like a 
 good refiner can gather gold out of the drossiest 
 volume, and that a fool will be a fool with the 
 best book, yea or without book, there is no 
 reason that we should deprive a wise man of 
 any advantage to his wisdome, while we seek 
 to restrain from a fool, that which being re- 
 strain'd will be no hindrance to his folly. For 
 if there should be so much exactnesse always 
 us'd to keep that from him which is unfit for 
 his reading, we should in the judgement of 
 Aristotle not only, but of Salomon, and of our 
 Saviour, not voutsafe him good precepts, and 
 by consequence not willingly admit him to 
 good books, as being certain that a wise man 
 will make better use of an idle pamphlet, then 
 a fool will do of sacred Scripture. 'Tis next 
 alleg'd we must not expose our selves to temp- 
 tations without necessity, and next to that, not 
 II. c 
 
42 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 iniploy our time in vain things. To both these 
 objections one answer will serve, out of the 
 grounds already laid, that to all men such 
 books arc not temptations, nor vanities ; but 
 uscfull drugs and materialls wherewith to 
 temper and compose effective and strong 
 med'cins, which mans life cannot want. The 
 rest, as children and childish men, who have 
 not the art to qualifie and prepare these work- 
 ing mineralls, well may be exhorted to forbear, 
 but hinder'd forcibly they cannot be by all the 
 licencing that Sainted Inquisition could ever 
 yet contrive ; which is what I promis'd to 
 deliver next. That this order of licencing con- 
 duces nothing to the end for which it was 
 fram'd ; and hath almost prevented me by 
 being clear already while thus much hath bin 
 explaining. See the ingenuity of Truth, who 
 when she gets a free and billing hand, opens 
 her self faster, then the pace of method and 
 discours can overtake her. It was the task 
 which I began with. To shew that no Nation, 
 or well instituted State, if they valu'd books 
 at all, did ever use this way of licencing ; and 
 it might be answer'd, that this is a piece of 
 prudence lately discover'd. To which I return, 
 that as it was a thing slight and obvious to 
 think on, for if it had bin difficult to finde out, 
 
AREOPAGITICA 43 
 
 there wanted not among them long since, who 
 suggested such a cours ; which they not follow- 
 ing, leave us a pattern of their judgement, that 
 it was not the not knowing, but the not ap- 
 proving, which was the cause of their not using 
 it. Plato, a man of high autority indeed, but 
 least of all for his Commonwealth, in the book 
 of his laws, which no City ever yet receiv'd, 
 fed his fancie with making many edicts to his 
 ayrie Burgomasters, which they who otherwise 
 admire him, wish had bin rather buried and 
 excus'd in the genial cups of an Academick 
 night-sitting. By which laws he seems to 
 tolerat no kind of learning, but by unalterable 
 decree, consisting most of practicall traditions, 
 to the attainment whereof a Library of smaller 
 bulk then his own dialogues would be abun- 
 dant ; and there also enacts that no Poet 
 should so much as read to any privat man, 
 what he had writt'n, untill the Judges and 
 Law-keepers had seen it, and allow'd it : But 
 that Plato meant this Law peculiarly to that 
 Commonwealth which he had imagin'd, and to 
 no other, is evident. Why was he not else a 
 Law-giver to himself, but a transgressor, and 
 to be expell'd by his own Magistrats : both for 
 the wanton epigrams and dialogues which he 
 made, and his perpetuall reading of Sophron 
 
44 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 Mimus,^ and Aristophanes,^ books of grossest 
 infamy, and also for commending the latter of 
 them though he were the malicious libeller of 
 his chief friends, to be read by the Tyrant 
 Dionysius, who liad little need of such trash 
 to spend his time on ? But that he knew this 
 licencing of Poems had reference and depen- 
 dence to many other proviso's there set down 
 in his fancied republic, which in tliis world 
 could have no place : and so neither he him- 
 self, nor any Magistrat, or City ever imitated 
 that cours, which tak'n apart from those other 
 coUaterall injunctions must needs be vain and 
 fruitlesse. For if they fell upon one kind of 
 strictnesse, unlesse their care were equall to 
 regulat all other things of like aptnes to cor- 
 rupt the mind, that single eudeavoiu* they 
 knew would be but a fond laboiu* ; to shut 
 and fortifie one gate against corruption, and 
 be necessitated to leave others round about 
 wide open. If we think to regulat Printing, 
 thereby to rectifie manners, we must regulat 
 all recreations and pastimes, all that is delight- 
 full to man. No musick must be heard, no 
 song be set or sung, but what is grave and 
 Dork'k. There must be licencing dancers, that 
 
 1 460 420 B.C. Cf. Quintilian, 1, 10. 
 
 2 Cf. p. 36, 1. 33. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 45 
 
 no gesture, motion, or deportment be taught 
 our youth but what by their allowance shall 
 be thought honest ; for such Plato was pro- 
 vided of; It will ask more then the work of 
 twenty licencers to examin all the lutes, the 
 violins, and the ghittarrs in every house ; they 
 must not be sufFer'd to prattle as they doe, but 
 must be licenc'd what they may say. And who 
 shall silence all the airs and madrigalls, that 
 whisper softnes in chambers? The Windows 
 also, and the Bahones must be thought on, 
 there are shrewd books, with dangerous 
 Frontispices set to sale ; who shall prohibit 
 them, shall twenty licencers ? The villages 
 also must have their visitors to enquire what 
 lectures the bagpipe and the rebbeck reads 
 ev'n to the ballatry, and the gammuth of 
 every municipal fidler, for these are the 
 Countrymans Arcadias and his Monte Mayors.^ 
 Next, what more Nationall corruption, for 
 which England hears ill abroad, then hous- 
 hold gluttony; who shall be the rectors of 
 our daily rioting ? and what shall be done to 
 inhibit the multitudes that frequent those 
 houses where drunk'nes is sold and harbour'd? 
 Our garments also should be referr'd to the 
 licencing of some more sober work-masters to 
 
 1 Referring to Sidney's romance and Monte Mayor's Diana. 
 
46 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 see them cut into a lesse wanton garb. Who 
 shall rcgulat all the mixt conversation of our 
 youth, male and female together, as is the 
 fashion of this Country, who shall stUl appoint 
 what shall be discours'd, what presum'd, and 
 no furder? Lastly, who shall forbid and 
 scparat all idle resort, all evill company ? 
 These things will be, and must be ; but how 
 they shall be lest hurtfuU, how lest enticing, 
 herein consists the grave and governing wisdom 
 of a State. To sequester out of the world into 
 Atlantick and Eutopian ^ polities, which never 
 can be drawn into use, ^\\\[ not mend om* con- 
 dition ; but to ordain wisely as in this world of 
 evill, in the midd'st whereof God hath plac't us 
 unavoidably. Nor is it Plato's hceucing of 
 books will doe this, wliich necessarily pulls along 
 with it so many other kinds of licencing, as 
 will make us all both ridiculous and weary, 
 and yet fustrat ; but those unwritt'n, or at least 
 unconstraining laws of vertuous education, 
 religious and civill nurture, wliich Plato there 
 mentions, as the bonds and ligaments of the 
 Commonwealth, the pillars and the sustainers 
 of every writt'n Statute ; these they be which 
 will bear chief sway in such matters as these, 
 
 1 Milton is referring to Bacon's New Atlantis and More's 
 Utopia. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 47 
 
 when all licencing will be easily eluded. Im- 
 punity and remissenes, for certain are the bane 
 of a Commonwealth, but here the great art lyes 
 to discern in what the law is to bid restraint 
 and punishment, and in what things perswasion 
 only is to work. If every action which is good, 
 or evill in man at ripe years, were to be under 
 pittance, and prescription, and compulsion, 
 what were vertue but a name, what praise 
 could be then due to well-doing, what gram- 
 mercy to be sober, just, or continent ? many 
 there be that complain of divin Providence for 
 suffering Adam to transgresse, foolish tongues ! 
 when God gave him reason, he gave him free- 
 dom to choose, for reason is but choosing ; he 
 had bin else a meer artificiall Adam, such an 
 Adam as he is in the motions. We our selves 
 esteem not of that obedience, or love, or gift, 
 which is of force : God therefore left him fi-ee, 
 set before him a provoking object, ever almost 
 in his eyes herein consisted his merit, herein 
 the right of his reward, the praise of his abstin- 
 ence. Wherefore did he creat passions within 
 us, pleasures round about us, but that these 
 rightly temper'd are the very ingredients of 
 vertu? They are not skilfuU considerers of 
 human things, who imagin to remove sin by 
 removing the matter of sin ; for, besides that it 
 
48 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 is a huge heap increasing under the very act of 
 diminishing though some part of it may for a 
 time be withdrawn from some persons, it can- 
 not from all, in such a universall thing as books 
 are ; and when this is done, yet the sin remains 
 entire. Though ye take from a covetous man 
 all his treasure, he has yet one Jewell left, ye 
 cannot bereave him of his covetousnesse. Banish 
 all objects of lust, shut up all youth into the 
 severest discipline that can be exercis'd in any 
 hermitage, ye cannot make them chaste, that 
 came not thither so ; such great care and 
 wisdom is requir'd to the right managing of this 
 point. Suppose we could expell sin by this 
 means ; look how much we thus expell of sin, 
 so much we expell of vertue : for the matter of 
 them both is the same ; remove that, and ye 
 remove them both alike. This justifies the 
 high providence of God,^ who though he com- 
 mand us temperance, justice, continence, yet 
 powrs out before us ev'n to a profusenes all 
 desirable things, and gives us minds that can 
 wander beyond all limit and satiety. Why 
 should we then affect a rigor contrary to the 
 manner of God and of nature, by abridgmg or 
 scanting those means, which books freely per- 
 mitted are, both to the triall of vertue, and the 
 
 1 Cf. Paradise Lost, b. i. ; 1. 24-6. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 49 
 
 exercise of truth. It would be better done to 
 learn that the law must needs be frivolous 
 which goes to restrain things, uncertainly and 
 yet equally working to good, and to evill. And 
 were I the chooser, a dram of well-doing should 
 be preferr'd before many times as much the 
 forcible hindrance of evill-doing. For God 
 sure esteems the growth and compleating of 
 one vertuous person, more than the restraint 
 of ten vitious. And albeit what ever thing 
 we hear or see, sitting, walking, travelling, or 
 conversing may be fitly call'd our book, and is 
 of the same effect that writings are, yet grant 
 the thing to be prohibited were only books, it 
 appears that this order hitherto is far insuffi- 
 cient to the end which it intends. Do we not 
 see, not once or oftner, but weekly that con- 
 tinu'd Court-libell against the Parlament and 
 City,^ Printed, as the wet sheets can witnes, 
 and dispers't among us for all that licencing 
 can doe ? yet this is the prime service a man 
 would think, wherein this order should give 
 proof of it self. If it were executed, you'l say. 
 But certain, if execution be remisse or blindfold 
 now, and in this particular, what will it be 
 hereafter, and in other books. If then the 
 
 1 The Mercurins Aulicus, a Royalist weekly print, 
 which ran from 1642-5 or 6. 
 
50 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 order shall not be vain and frustrat, behold 
 a new labour, Lords and Commons, ye must 
 repeal and proscribe all scandalous and un- 
 liceiic't books already printed and dividg'd ; 
 after ye have drawn them up into a list, that 
 all may know which are condemn'd, and which 
 not ; and ordain that no forrein books be de- 
 liver'd out of custody, till they have bin read 
 over. This office will require the whole time 
 of not a few overseers, and those no vulgar 
 men. There be also books which are partly 
 usefull and excellent, partly culpable and per- 
 nicious ; this work will ask as many more 
 officials to make expurgations and expunctions, 
 that the Commonwealth of learning be not 
 damnify 'd. In fine, when the multitude of 
 books eucrease upon their hands, ye must be 
 fain to catalogue all those Printers who are 
 found frequently offending, and forbidd the 
 importation of their whole suspected typo- 
 graphy. In a word, that this your order may 
 be exact, and not deficient, ye must reform it 
 perfectly according to the model of Trent and 
 Sevil, which I know ye abhorre to doe. Yet 
 though ye should condiscend to this, which 
 God forbid, the order still woidd be but fruit- 
 lesse and defective to that end whereto ye 
 meant it. If to prevent sects and schisms, 
 
AREOPAGITICA 51 
 
 who is so unread or so uncatechis'd in story, 
 that hath not heard of many sects refusing 
 books as a hindrance, and preserving their 
 doctrine unmixt for many ages, only by un- 
 writt'n traditions. The Christian faith, for 
 that was once a schism, is not unknown to 
 have spread all over Asia, ere any Gospel or 
 Epistle was seen in writing. If the amend- 
 ment of manners be aym'd at, look into Italy 
 and Spain, whether those places be one scruple 
 the better, the honester, the wiser, the chaster, 
 since all the inquisitionall rigor that hath bin 
 executed upon books. 
 
 Another reason, whereby to make it plain 
 that this order will misse the end it seeks, 
 consider by the quahty which ought to be in 
 every licencer. It cannot be deny'd but that 
 he who is made judge to sit upon the birth or 
 death of books, whether they may be wafted 
 into this world, or not, had need to be a man 
 above the common measure, both studious, 
 learned, and judicious ; there may be else no 
 mean mistakes in the censure of what is pass- 
 able or not; which is also no mean injury. If 
 he be of such worth as behoovs him, there can- 
 not be a more tedious and unpleasing journey- 
 work, a greater losse of time levied upon his 
 head, then to be made the perpetuall reader of 
 
52 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 unchosen books and pamphlets, oftimes huge 
 vohimes. There is no book that is acceptable 
 unlesse at certain seasons ; but to be enjoyn'd 
 the reading of that at all times, and in a hand 
 scars ^ legible, whereof three pages would not 
 down at any time in the fairest Print, is an 
 imposition which I cannot beleeve how he that 
 values time, and his own studies, or is but of 
 a sensible nostrill, should be able to endure. 
 In this one thing I crave leave of the present 
 licencers to be pardon'd for so thinking : who 
 doubtlesse took this office up, looking on it 
 through their obedience to the Parlament, 
 whose command perhaps made all things seem 
 easie and unlaborious to them ; but that this 
 short triall hath wearied them out already, 
 their own expressions and excuses to them 
 who make so many journeys to sollicit their 
 hcence, are testimony anough. Seeing there- 
 fore those who now possesse the imployment, 
 by all evident signs wish themselves well ridd 
 of it, and that no man of worth, none that is 
 not a plain unthrift of his own hours is ever 
 likely to succeed them, except he mean to put 
 himself to the salary of a Presse-corrector, we 
 may easily foresee what kind of licencers we 
 
 ^ (Scarce, scarcely.) Milton himself wrote a legible 
 hand enough, as Prof. Hales notes. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 53 
 
 are to expect hereafter, either ignorant, im- 
 perious, and remisse, or basely pecuniary. This 
 is what I had to shew wherein this order can- 
 not conduce to that end, whereof it bears the 
 intention. 
 
 I lastly proceed from the no good it can do, 
 to the manifest hurt it causes, in being first the 
 greatest discouragement and affront that can be 
 offer'd to learning and to learned men. It was 
 the complaint and lamentation of Prelats, upon 
 every least breath of a motion to remove 
 pluraUties, and distribute more equally Church 
 revennu's, that then all learning would be for 
 ever dasht and discourag'd. But as for that 
 opinion, I never found cause to think that the 
 tenth part of learning stood or fell with the 
 Clergy : nor could I ever but hold it for a 
 sordid and unworthy speech of any Churchman 
 who had a competency left him. If therefore 
 ye be loath to dishearten utterly and discontent, 
 not the mercenary crew of false pretenders to 
 learning, but the free and ingenuous sort of 
 such as evidently were born to study, and love 
 lerning for it self, not for lucre, or any other 
 end, but the service of God and of truth, and 
 perhaps that lasting fame and perpetuity of 
 praise which God and good men have con- 
 sented shall be the reward of those whose 
 
54 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 publisht labours advance the good of mankind, 
 then know, that so far to distrust the judge- 
 ment and the honesty of one who hath but a 
 common repute in learning, and never yet 
 offended, as not to count him fit to print his 
 mind without a tutor and examiner, lest he 
 should drop a seism, or something of corrup- 
 tion, is the greatest displeasure and indignity to 
 a free and knowing spirit that can be put upon 
 him. What advantage is it to be a man over ^ 
 it is to be a boy at school, if we have only 
 scapt the ferular, to come under the fescu^ 
 of an Imprimatur ? if serious and elaborat 
 writings, as if they were no more then the 
 theam of a Grammar lad under liis Pedagogue 
 must not be utter'd without the cursory eyes of 
 a temporizing and extemporizing licencer. He 
 who is not trusted with his own actions, his 
 drift not being known to be eviU, and standing 
 to the hazard of law and penalty, has no great 
 argument to think himself reputed in the 
 Commonwealth wherein he was born, for other 
 then a fool or a foreiner. ^Yhel\ a man writes 
 to the world, he summons up all his reason 
 and deliberation to assist him ; he searches 
 meditats, is industrious, and Ukely consults and 
 
 ^ I.e. ' over (what) it is to be.' 
 
 2 Pointer. (Lat. Festuca— a stem or small stick.) 
 
AREOPAGITICA ss 
 
 conferrs with his judicious friends ; after all 
 which done he takes himself to be inform'd in 
 what he writes, as well as any that writ before 
 him ; if in this the most consummat act of his 
 fidehty and ripenesse, no years, no industry, no 
 former proof of his abihties can bring him to 
 that state of maturity, as not to be still mis- 
 trusted and suspected, unlesse he carry all his 
 considerat diligence, all his midnight watchings, 
 and expence of Palladian oyl,^ to the hasty 
 view of an unleasur'd Ucencer, perhaps much 
 his younger, perhaps far his inferiour in 
 judgement, perhaps one who never knew the 
 labour of book-writing, and if he be not repulst, 
 or shghted, must appear in Print hke a punie ^ 
 with his guardian, and his censors hand on the 
 back of his title to be his bayl and surety, that 
 he is no idiot, or seducer, it cannot be but a 
 dishonour and derogation to the author, to the 
 book, to the priviledge and dignity of Learning. 
 And what if the author shall be one so copious 
 of fancie, as to have many things well worth 
 the adding, come into his mind after licencing, 
 while the book is yet under the Presse, which 
 not seldom happ'ns to the best and diligentest 
 writers ; and that perhaps a dozen times in one 
 
 1 A very Miltonian euphemism for the midnight oil. 
 
 2 A posthumous child. (Fr. puis-n6 ; Lat. post-natus. ) 
 
$6 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 book. The Printer dares not go beyond his 
 licenc't copy; so often then must the author 
 trudge to his leav-giver, that those his new 
 insertions may be viewd; and many a jaunt 
 will be made, ere that licencer, for it must be 
 the same man, can either be found, or found at 
 leisure ; mean while either the Presse must stand 
 still, which is no small damage, or the author 
 loose his accuratest thoughts, and send the book 
 forth wors then he had made it, which to a 
 diligent writer is the greatest melancholy and 
 vexation that can befall. And how can a man 
 teach with autority, which is the Hfe of teach- 
 ing, how can he be a Doctor in his book as he 
 ought to be, or else had better be silent, whenas 
 all he teaches, all he deUvei's, is but under the 
 tuition, under the correction of his patriarchal 
 licencer to blot or alter what precisely accords 
 not with the hidebound humor which he calls 
 his judgement ; when every acute reader upon 
 the first sight of a pedantick licence, will be 
 ready with these like words to ding the book a 
 coits distance from him. I hate a pupil teacher, 
 I endure not an instructer that comes to me 
 under the wardship of an ovei-seeing fist. I 
 know nothing of the Hcencer, but that I have 
 his own hand here for his arrogance. Who shall 
 warrant me his judgement? The State Sir, 
 
AREOPAGITICA 57 
 
 replies the Stationer, but has a quick return : 
 The State shall be my governours, but not my 
 criticks; they may be mistak'n in the choice 
 of a licencer, as easily as this licencer may be 
 mistak'n in an author : This is some common 
 stufFe; and he might adde from Sir Francis 
 Bacon, That such authorized hooks are hut the 
 language of the times?- For though a Hcencer 
 should happ'n to be judicious more then ordnary, 
 which will be a great jeopardy of the next suc- 
 cession, yet his very office, and his commission 
 enjoyns him to let passe nothing but what is 
 vulgarly receiv'd already. Nay, which is more 
 lamentable, if the work of any deceased author, 
 though never so famous in his life time, and 
 even to this day, come to their hands for Ucence 
 to be Printed, or Reprinted, if there be found 
 in his book one sentence of a ventrous edge, 
 utter'd in the height of zeal, and who knows 
 whether it might not be the dictat of a divine 
 Spirit, yet not suiting with every low decrepit 
 humor of their own ; though it were Knox him- 
 self, the Reformer of a Kingdom that spake it, 
 they will not pardon him their dash : the sense 
 of that great man shall to all posterity be lost, 
 for the fearfalnesse, or the presumptuous rash- 
 
 ^ V. Bacon's tract on " The Controversies of the 
 Church " (published in 1640). 
 
 II. D 
 
58 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 nesse of a perfunctory licencer. And to what 
 an autlior this violence hath bin lately done, 
 and in what book of greatest consequence to be 
 faithfully pubUsht, I could now instance, but 
 shall forbear till a more convenient season. 
 Yet if these things be not resented seriously 
 and timely by them who have the remedy in 
 their power, but that such iron moulds as these 
 shall have autority to knaw out the choicest 
 periods of exquisitest books, and to commit 
 such a treacherous fi'aud against the orphan 
 remainders of worthiest men after death, the 
 more sorrow will belong to that haples race 
 of men, whose misfortune it is to have under- 
 standing. Henceforth let no man care to learn, 
 or care to be more then worldly wise ; for 
 certainly in higher matters to be ignorant and 
 slothfull, to be a common stedfast dunce will 
 be the only pleasant life, and only in request. 
 
 And as it is a particular disesteem of every 
 knowing person alive, and most injurious to the 
 writt'n labours and monuments of the dead, so to 
 me it seems an undervaluing and ^'ilifying of the 
 whole Nation. I cannot set so light by all the 
 invention, the art, the ^vit, the grave and sohd 
 judgement which is in England, as that it can 
 be comprehended in any twenty capacities how 
 good soever, much lesse that it should not passe 
 
AREOPAGITICA 59 
 
 except their superintendence be over it, except 
 it be sifted and strain'd with their strainers, 
 that it should be uncurrant without their 
 manuall stamp. Truth and understanding are 
 not such wares as to be monopoUz'd and traded 
 in by tickets and statutes, and standards. We 
 must not think to make a staple commodity of 
 all the knowledge in the Land, to mark and 
 Ucence it Hke our broad cloath, and our wooU 
 packs. What is it but a servitude like that 
 impos'd by the Philistims, not to be allow'd 
 the sharpning of our own axes and coulters, 
 but we must repair from all quarters to 
 twenty Ucencing forges. Had any one writt'n 
 and divulg'd erroneous things and scandalous 
 to honest life, misusing and forfeiting the 
 esteem had of his reason among men, if 
 after conviction this only censure were adjudg'd 
 him, that he should never henceforth write, 
 but what were first examin'd by an appointed 
 officer, whose hand should be annext to passe 
 his credit for him, that now he might be safely 
 read, it could not be apprehend lesse then a 
 disgracefuU punishment. Whence to include 
 the whole Nation, and those that never yet 
 thus offended, under such a diffident and sus- 
 pectfull prohibition, may plainly be understood 
 what a disparagement it is. So much the 
 
6o AREOPAGITICA 
 
 more, when as dettors and delinquents may 
 walk abroad without a keeper, but unoffensive 
 books must not stirre forth without a visible 
 jaylor in thir title. Nor is it to the common 
 people lesse then a reproach ; for if we so 
 jealous over them, as that we dare not trust 
 them with an EngUsh pamphlet, what doe we 
 but censure them for a giddy, vitious, and un- 
 grounded people ; in such a sick and weak 
 estate of faith and discretion, as to be able to 
 take nothing down but through the pipe of a 
 licencer. That this is care or love of them, we 
 cannot pretend, whenas in those Popish places 
 where the Laity are most hated and despis'd 
 the same strictnes is us'd over them. Wisdom 
 we cannot call it, because it stops but one 
 breach of licence, nor that neither ; whenas 
 those corruptions which it seeks to prevent, 
 break in faster at other dores which cannot be 
 shut. 
 
 And in conclusion it reflects to the disrepute 
 of our Ministers also, of whose labom-s we 
 should hope better, and of the proficiencie 
 which thir flock reaps by them, then that after 
 all this hght of the Gospel which is, and is 
 to be, and all this continual! preaching, they 
 should be still frequented with such an un- 
 principl'd, unedify'd, and laick rabble, as that 
 
AREOPAGITICA 6i 
 
 the wliifFe of every new pamphlet should 
 stagger them out of their catechism, and 
 Christian walking. This may have much 
 reason to discourage the Ministers when such 
 a low conceit is had of all their exhortations, 
 and the benefiting of their hearers, as that they 
 are not thought fit to be turn'd loose to three 
 sheets of paper without a licencer, that all 
 the Sermons, all the Lectures preacht, printed, 
 vented in such numbers, and such volumes, as 
 have now wellnigh made all other books un- 
 salable, should not be armor anough against 
 one single enchiridion,^ without the castle of 
 St Angelo ^ of an Imjyrimatur. 
 
 And lest som should perswade ye. Lords and 
 Commons, that these arguments of lerned mens 
 discouragement at this your order, are meer 
 flourishes, and not reall, I could recount what 
 I have seen and heard in other Countries, 
 where this kind of inquisition tyrannizes ; when 
 I have sat among their lerned men, for that 
 honor I had, and bin counted happy to be born 
 in such a place of Philosophic freedom, as they 
 suppos'd England was, while themselvs did 
 nothing but bemoan the servil condition into 
 
 ^ A play upon the word, which means both a manual 
 and a dagger. Milton may have stolen the pun from 
 Erasmus. V. Jorten's Life, i. 358. 
 
 2 The papal Prison, and once the papal fortress. 
 
62 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 which lerning amongst them was brought ; that 
 this was it which had dampt the glory of 
 Italian wits ; that nothing had bin there writt'n 
 now these many years but flattery and fustian. 
 There it was that I found and visited^ the 
 famous Galileo grown old, a prisner to the 
 Inquisition, for thinking in Astronomy other- 
 wise then the Franciscan and Dominican 
 licencers thought. And though I knew that 
 England then was groaning loudest under the 
 PrelaticaU yoak, neverthelesse I tooke it as a 
 pledge of future happines, that other Nations 
 were so perswaded of her liberty. Yet was it 
 beyond my hope that those Worthies were then 
 breathing in her air, who should be her leaders 
 to such a deliverance, as shall never be for- 
 gott'n by any revolution of time that this world 
 hath to finish. When that was once begun, it 
 was as little in my fear, that what words of 
 complaint I heard among lenied men of other 
 parts utter 'd against the Inquisition, the same 
 I should hear by as lerned men at home 
 utterd in time of Parlament against an order 
 of licencing ; and that so generally, that when 
 I disclos'd my self a companion of their dis- 
 content, I might say, if without envy, that he ' 
 1 In 1638. 
 
 ' Cicero was quffistor in Sicily, 75 b.c. V. the orations 
 in which he denounced Verres, the tyrannical proprsetor; 
 especially the first. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 63 
 
 whom an honest qucBstorship had indear'd to 
 
 the Sicilians, was not more by them impor- 
 
 tun'd against Verves, then the favourable 
 
 opinion which I had among many who honour 
 
 ye, and are known and respected by ye, loaded 
 
 me with entreaties and perswasions, that I 
 
 would not despair to lay together that which just 
 
 reason should bring into my mind, toward the 
 
 removal of an undeserved thraldom upon lern- 
 
 ing. That this is not therefore the disburdning 
 
 of a particular fancie, but the common grievance 
 
 of all those who had prepar'd their minds and 
 
 studies above the vulgar pitch to advance truth 
 
 in others, and from others to entertain it, thus 
 
 much may satisfie. And in their name I shall 
 
 for neither friend nor foe conceal what the 
 
 generall murmur is ; that if it come to inquisi- 
 
 tioning again, and licencing, and that we are so 
 
 timorous of our selvs, and so suspicious of all 
 
 men, as to fear each book, and the shaking of 
 
 every leaf, before we know what the contents 
 
 are, if some who but of late were little better 
 
 then sUenc't from preaching, shall come now to 
 
 silence us from reading, except what they please, 
 
 it cannot be guest what is intended by som but 
 
 a second tyranny over learning : and will soon 
 
 put it out of controversie that Bishops and 
 
 Presbyters are the same to us, both name and 
 
64 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 thing. That those evills of Prelaty which 
 before from five or six and twenty Sees were 
 ditributively charg'd upon the whole people, 
 will now light wholly upon learning, is not 
 obscure to us : whenas now the Pastor of a 
 small unlearned Parish, on the sudden shall be 
 exalted Archbishop over a large dioces of books, 
 and yet not remove, but keep his other cure 
 too, a mysticall pluraUst. He who but of late 
 cry'd down the sole ordination of every novice 
 Batchelor of Art, and deny'd sole jiu-isdiction 
 over the simplest Parishioner, shall now at 
 home in his privat chair assume both these over 
 worthiest and excellentest books and ablest 
 authors that write them. This is not, Yee 
 Covenants and Protestations that we have 
 made, this is not to put do^vn Prelaty, tliis is 
 but to chop an Episcopacy, this is but to 
 translate the Palace^ Metropolitan from one 
 kind of dominion into another, this is but an 
 old cannonicall slight of comm uting our penance. 
 To startle thus betimes at a meer unhcenc't 
 pamphlet will after a while be afraid of every 
 conventicle, and a while after will make a con- 
 venticle of every Christian meeting. But I am 
 certain that a State govern'd by the rules of 
 justice and fortitude, or a Church built and 
 
 ^ Lambeth Palace. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 6s 
 
 founded upon the rock of faith and true know- 
 ledge, cannot be so pusillanimous. While 
 things are yet not constituted in Religion, that 
 freedom of writing should be restrain'd by a 
 discipline imitated from the Prelats, and learnt 
 by them from the Inquisition to shut us up all 
 again into the brest of a licencer, must needs 
 give cause of doubt and discouragement to all 
 learned and religious men. Wlio cannot but 
 discern the finenes of this politic drift, and who 
 are the contrivers ; that while Bishops were to 
 be baited down, then all Presses might be open ; 
 it was the people's birthright and priviledge in 
 time of Parlament, it was the breaking forth of 
 light. But now the Bishops abrogated and 
 voided out of the Church, as if our Reformation 
 sought no more, but to make room for others 
 into their seats under another name, the Epis- 
 copall arts begin to bud again, the cruse of 
 truth must run no more oyle, liberty of Printing 
 must be enthrall'd again under a Prelaticall 
 commission of twenty, the privilege of the 
 people nullify'd, and which is wors, the freedom 
 of learning must groan again, and to her old 
 fetters ; all this the Parlament yet sitting. 
 Although their own late arguments and defences 
 against the Prelats might remember them that 
 this obstructing violence meets for the most 
 
66 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 part with an event utterly opposite to the end 
 which it drives at : instead of suppressing sects 
 and schisms, it raises them and invests them 
 with a reputation : The punishing of wits 
 enhaunces their autority, saith the Vicount St 
 Albans, and a forhidd'n writing is thought to 
 be a certain spark of truth that flies up in the 
 faces of them who seeke to tread it out?- This 
 order therefore may prove a nursing mother to 
 sects, but I shall easily show how it will be a 
 step-dame to Truth : and first by disinabhng us 
 to the maintenance of w^hat is known already. 
 
 Well knows he who uses to consider, that 
 our faith and knowledge thrives by exercise, as 
 well as our limbs and complexion. Truth is 
 compar'd in Scripture to a streaming fomitain ; 
 if her waters flow not in a perpetuall pro- 
 gression, they sick'n into a muddy pool of 
 conformity and tradition. A man may be a 
 heretick in the truth ; and if he beleeve things 
 only because his Pastor sayes so, or the 
 Assembly so determins, ^\ithout knoMdng other 
 reason, though his belief be true, yet the very 
 truth he holds, becomes his heresie. There is 
 not any burden that som would gladier post off 
 to another, then the charge and care of their 
 Religion. There be, who knows not that there 
 
 1 V. Bacon's ' Controversies of the Church.' 
 
AREOPAGITICA 67 
 
 be of Protestants and professors who live and 
 dye in as arrant and implicit faith, as any lay 
 Papist of Loretto. A wealthy man addicted to 
 his pleasure and to his profits, finds Religion 
 to be a traffick so entangl'd, and of so many 
 piddling accounts, that of all mysteries he can- 
 not skill to keep a stock going upon that trade. 
 What shoulde he doe ? fain he would have the 
 name to be religious, fain he would bear up 
 with his neighbours in that. What does he 
 therefore, but resolvs to give over toyling, and 
 to find himself out som factor, to whose care 
 and credit he may commit the whole managing 
 of his religious affairs ; som Divine of note 
 and estimation that must be. To him he 
 adheres, resigns the whole ware-house of his 
 religion, with all the locks and keyes into his 
 custody ; and indeed makes the very person of 
 that man his religion; esteems his associating 
 with him a sufficient evidence and commen- 
 datory of his own piety. So that a man may 
 say his religion is now no more within himself, 
 but is becom a dividuall movable, and goes and 
 comes neer him, according as that good man 
 frequents the house. He entertains him, gives 
 him gifts, feasts him, lodges him; his religion 
 comes home at night, praies, is liberally supt, 
 and sumptuously laid to sleep, rises, is saluted. 
 
68 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 and after the malmsey, or some well spic't 
 bruage, and better breakfasted then he whose 
 morning appetite would have gladly fed on 
 green figs between Bethany and Jerusalem, his 
 Religion walks abroad at eight, and leavs his 
 kind entertainer in the shop trading all day 
 without his religion. 
 
 Another sort there be who when they hear 
 that all things shall be order'd, all things re- 
 gulated and setl'd ; nothing writt'n but what 
 passes through the custom-house of certain 
 Publicans that have the tunaging and the 
 poundaging of all free sj)ok'n truth, will strait 
 give themselvs up into your hands, mak'em and 
 cut'em out what religion ye please ; there be 
 delights, there be recreations and jolly pastimes 
 that will fetch the day about from sun to sun, 
 and rock the tedious year as in a delightfuU 
 dream. What need they torture their heads 
 with that which others have tak'n so strictly, 
 and so unalterably into their own pourveying. 
 These are the fruits which a dull ease and 
 cessation of our knowledge will bring forth 
 among the people. How goodly, and how to 
 be wisht were such an obedient unanimity as 
 this, what a fine conformity would it starch us 
 all into ? doubtles a stanch and sohd peece of 
 framework, as any January could freeze together. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 69 
 
 Nor much better will be the consequence 
 ev'n among the Clergy themselvs ; it is no new 
 thing never heard of before, for a parochiall 
 Minister, who has his reward, and is at his 
 Hercules pillars^ in a warm benefice, to be 
 easily inclinable, if he have nothing else that 
 may rouse up his studies, to finish his circuit 
 in an English concordance and a topic folio,^ 
 the gatherings and savings of a sober graduat- 
 ship, a Harmony ^ and a Catena,'^ treading the 
 constant round of certain common doctrinall 
 heads, attended with their uses, motives, marks 
 and means, out of which as out of an alphabet 
 or sol fa by forming and transforaiing, joyning 
 and disjoyning variously a little book-craft, and 
 two hours meditation might furnish him un- 
 speakably to the performance of more then a 
 weekly charge of sermoning : not to reck'n up 
 the infinit helps of interlinearies, breviaries, 
 synopses, and other loitering gear. But as for 
 the multitude of Sermons ready printed and 
 pil'd up, on every text that is not difficult, our 
 London trading St Tliomas in his vestry, and 
 
 ^ I.e. the Straits of Gibraltar used here as a figure to 
 express the utmost bounds of desire. 
 
 2 A common-place book. 
 
 ^ A Harmony, i.e., a species of commentary attempting 
 to reconcile conflicting Scriptures. 
 
 ■* A chain or list of authorities. 
 
70 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 adde to boot St Martin, and St Hugh, have 
 not within their hallow'd limits more vendible 
 ware of all sorts ready made : so that penury 
 he never need fear of Pulpit provision, having 
 where so plenteously to refresh his magazin. 
 But if his rear and flanks be not impal'd, if 
 his back dore be not secur'd by the rigid 
 licencer, but that a bold book may now and 
 then issue forth, and give the assault to some 
 of his old collections in their trenches, it will 
 concern him then to keep waking, to stand 
 in watch, to set good guards and sentinells 
 about his receiv'd opinions, to walk the round 
 and counterround with his feUow inspectors, 
 fearing lest any of his flock be seduc't, who 
 also then would be better instructed, better 
 exercis'd and discipUn'd. And God send that 
 the fear of this diligence which must then 
 be us'd, doe not make us affect the lazines 
 of a licencing Church. 
 
 For if we be sure we are in the right, and 
 doe not hold the truth guiltily, which becomes 
 not, if we ourselves condemn not our own 
 weak and frivolous teaching, and the people 
 for an untaught and irreligious gadding rout, 
 what can be more fair, then when a man 
 judicious, learned, and of a conscience, for 
 ought we know, as good as theirs that taught 
 
AREOPAGITICA 71 
 
 us what we know, shall not privily from house 
 to house, which is more dangerous, but openly 
 by writing pubUsh to the world what his 
 opinion is, what his reasons, and wherefore 
 that which is now thought cannot be found. 
 Christ m-g'd it as wherewith to justifie himself, 
 that he preacht in publick ; yet writing is 
 more publick then preaching; and more easie 
 to refutation, if need be, there being so many 
 whose businesse and profession meerly it is, 
 to be the champions of Truth; which if they 
 neglect, what can be imputed but their sloth, 
 or inability ? 
 
 Thus much we are hinder'd and dis-inur'd 
 by this cours of licencing towards the true 
 knowledge of what we seem to know. For 
 how much it hurts and hinders the licencers 
 themselves in the calling of their Ministery, 
 more then any secular employment, if they 
 will discharge that office as they ought, so 
 that of necessity they must neglect either the 
 one duty or the other, I insist not, because 
 it is a particular, but leave it to their own 
 conscience, how they will decide it there. 
 
 There is yet behind of what I purpos'd to 
 lay open, the incredible losse, and detriment 
 that this plot of licencing puts us to, more 
 then if som enemy at sea should stop up all 
 
72 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 our hav'ns and ports, and creeks, it hinders 
 and retards the importation of our richest 
 Marcliandize, Truth ; nay it was first estabhsht 
 and put in practice by Antichristian mahce 
 and niysteiy on set purpose to extinguish, if 
 it were possible, the light of Reformation, 
 and to settle falshood ; little differing from 
 that policie wherewith the Turk upholds his 
 Alcoran,^ by the prohibition of Printing. 'Tis 
 not deny'd, bat gladly confest, we are to send 
 our thanks and vows to heav'n, louder then 
 most of Nations, for that great measure of 
 truth which we enjoy, especially in those main 
 points between us and the Pope, with his 
 appertinences the Prelats : but he who thinks 
 we are to pitch our tent here, and have attain'd 
 the utmost prospect of refomiation, that the 
 mortalle glasse wherein we contemplate, can 
 shew us, till we come to hcatific vision, that 
 man by this very opinion declares, that he 
 is yet farre short of Truth. 
 
 Truth indeed came once into the world with 
 her divine Master, and was a perfect shape 
 most glorious to look on : but when he 
 ascended, and his Apostles after him were 
 laid asleep, then strait arose a wicked race 
 of deceivers, who as that story goes of the 
 1 Usually Koran, without the definite article. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 73 
 
 Egyptian Typhon'^ with his conspirators, 
 how they dealt with the good Osiris, took 
 the virgin Truth, hewd her lovely form into 
 a thousand peeces, and scatter'd them to the 
 four winds. From that time ever since, the 
 sad friends of Truth, such as durst appear, 
 imitating the carefuU search that his made 
 for the mangl'd body of Osiris, went up and 
 down gathering up limb by limb still as they 
 could find them. We have not yet found 
 them all. Lords and Commons, nor ever shall 
 doe, till her Masters second comming ; he shall 
 bring together every joynt and member, and 
 shall mould them into an immortall feature of 
 loveliness and perfection. Suffer not these 
 licencing prohibitions to stand at every place 
 of opportunity forbidding and disturbing them 
 that continue seeking, that continue to do our 
 obsequies to the torn body of our martyr'd 
 Saint. We boast our light ; but if we look 
 not wisely on the Sun it self, it smites us into 
 darknes. Who can discern those planets that 
 are oft Combust,'^ and those stars of brightest 
 magnitude that rise and set with the Sun, untill 
 
 ^ The brother of Osiris, whom he murdered ; con- 
 sidered by the Egyptians as the type and cause of all 
 evil. Isis was sister of both, and wife of Osiris. 
 
 ^ Planets within eight degrees or so from the sun used 
 to be termed combust, or in a state of combustion. 
 
 II. E 
 
74 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 the opposite motion of their orbs bring them to 
 such a place in the firmament, where they may 
 be seen cvning or morning. The light which 
 we have gain'd, was giv'n us, not to be ever 
 staring on, but by it to discover onward things 
 more remote from our knowledge. It is not 
 the unfrocking of a Priest, the unmitring of a 
 Bishop, and the removing him from off the 
 Presbyterian shoulders that will make us a 
 happy Nation, no, if other things as great in 
 the Church, and in the rule of life both eco- 
 nomical! and political! be not lookt into and 
 reform'd, we have lookt so long upon the blaze 
 that Zuinglius ^ and Calvin hath beacon'd up 
 to us, that we are stark blind. Tliere be who 
 perpetually complain of scliisms and sects, and 
 make it such a calamity that any man dissents 
 from their maxims. 'Tis their own pride and 
 ignorance which causes the disturbing, who 
 neither will hear with mceknes, nor can con- 
 vince, yet all must be supprest which is not 
 found in their Syntagma. They are the 
 troublers, they are the dividers of unity, who 
 neglect and permit not others to unite those 
 dissever'd peeces which are yet wanting to the 
 body of Truth. To be still searching what we 
 
 lUlrich Zwingli, 1487-1531. The Luther of Switzer- 
 land. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 75 
 
 know not, by what we know, still closing up 
 truth to truth as we find it (for all her body is 
 homogeneal, and proportionall) this is the 
 golden rule in Theology as well as in Arith- 
 metick, and makes up the best harmony in 
 a Church ; not the forc't and outward union 
 of cold, and neutrall, and inwardly divided 
 minds. 
 
 Lords and Commons of England, consider 
 what Nation it is whereof ye are, and whereof 
 ye are the governours : a Nation not slow and 
 dull, but of a quick, ingenious, and piercing 
 spirit, acute to invent, suttle and sinewy to 
 discours, not beneath the reach of any point 
 the highest that human capacity can soar to. 
 Therefore the studies of learning in her deepest 
 Sciences have bin so ancient, and so eminent 
 among us, that Writers of good antiquity, and 
 ablest judgement have bin pers waded that ev'n 
 the school of Pythagoras, and the Persian 
 wisdom took beginning from the old Philo- 
 sophy of this Hand. And that wise and civill 
 Roman, Julius Agricola,^ who govern'd once 
 here for Cmsar, preferr'd the naturall wits of 
 Britain, before the labour'd studies of the 
 French. Nor is it for nothing that the grave 
 
 ^Julius Agricola was in Britain from 78-85 A.D., as 
 Tacitus (his son-in-law) tells us. 
 
76 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 and frugal Transilvanian sends out yearly from 
 as farre as the mountanous borders of Russia, 
 and beyond the Hercynian wildernes/ not their 
 youth, but their stay'd men, to learn our lan- 
 guage, and our theologic arts. Yet that which 
 is above all this, the favour and the love of 
 heav'n we have great argument to think in a 
 peculiar manner propitious and propending to- 
 wards us. Why else was this Nation chos'n 
 before any other, that out of her as out of Zion 
 should be proclam'd and sounded forth the 
 first tidings and trumpet of Refonnation to all 
 Europ. And had it not bin the obstinat per- 
 versnes of our Prelats against the di^^ne and 
 admirable spirit of Wicklef, to suppresse him 
 as a schismatic and innovator, perhaps neither 
 the Bohemian Husse and Jerom, no nor the 
 name of Luther, or of Calvin had bin ever 
 known : the glory of refonning all our neigh- 
 bours had bin compleatly om-s. But now, as 
 our obdurate Clergy have ^\^th violence de- 
 mean'd the matter, we are become hitherto the 
 latest and the backwardest Schollers, of whom 
 God oftcr'd to have made us the teachers. Now 
 once again by all concurrence of signs, and by 
 
 ^ Hercynia was Cfesar's mid and southern Germany, 
 including the great forests, the Harz, the Black-forest, 
 &c. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 77 
 
 the generall instinct of holy and devout men, as 
 they daily and solemnly expresse their thoughts, 
 God is decreeing to begin some new and great 
 period in his Church, ev'n to the reforming 
 of Reformation it self: what does he then 
 but reveal Himself to his servants, and as his 
 manner is, first to his English-men ; I say as his 
 manner is, first to us, though we mark not the 
 method of his counsels, and are unworthy. 
 Behold now this vast City ; a City of refuge, 
 the mansion house of liberty, encompast and 
 surrounded with his protection ; the shop of 
 warre hath not there more anvils and hammers 
 waking, to fashion out the plates and instru- 
 ments of armed Justice in defence of beleaguer'd 
 Truth, then there be pens and heads there, sit- 
 ting by their studious lamps, musing, searching, 
 revolving new notions and idea's wherewith to 
 present, as with their homage and their fealty 
 the approaching Reformation : others as fast 
 reading, trying all things, assenting to the force 
 of reason and convincement. What could a 
 man require more from a Nation so pliant and 
 so prone to seek after knowledge. What wants 
 there to such a towardly and pregnant soile, 
 but wise and faithfuU labourers, to make a 
 knowing people, a Nation of Prophets, of Sages, 
 and of Worthies. We reck'n more then five 
 
 ik 
 
78 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 months yet to harvest ; there need not be five 
 weeks, had we but eyes to lift up, the fields are 
 white already. Where there is much desire to 
 learn, there of necessity will be much arguing, 
 much writing, many opinions ; for opinion in 
 good men is but knowledge in the making. 
 Under these fantastic terrors of sect and schism, 
 we wrong the earnest and zealous thirst after 
 knowledge and understanding which God hath 
 stirr'd up in this City. What some lament of, 
 we rather should rejoyce at, should rather praise 
 this pious forwardnes among men, to reassume 
 the ill deputed care of their Religion into their 
 own hands again. A little generous prudence, 
 a little forbearance of one another, and som 
 grain of charity might ^vin all these dihgences 
 to joyn, and unite in one generall and brotherly 
 search after Truth ; could we but forgoe this 
 Prelaticall tradition of crowding free consciences 
 and Christian liberties into canons and precepts 
 of men. I doubt not, if some great and worthy 
 stranger should come among us, wise to discern 
 the mould and temper of a people, and how to 
 govern it, observing the high hopes and aims, 
 the diligent alacrity of our extended thoughts 
 and reasonings in the pursuance of truth and 
 freedom, but that he would cry out as Pirrhus 
 did, admiring the Roman docility and courage, 
 
AREOPAGITICA 79 
 
 if such were my Epirots,^ I would not despair 
 the greatest design that could be attempted to 
 make a Church or Kingdom happy. Yet these 
 are the men cry'd out against for schismaticks 
 and sectaries ; as if, while the Temple of the 
 Lord was building, some cutting, some squaring 
 the marble, others hewing the cedars, there 
 should be a sort of irrationall men who could 
 not consider there must be many schisms and 
 many dissections made in the quarry and in the 
 timber, ere the house of God can be built. And 
 when every stone is laid artfully together, it 
 cannot be united into a continuity, it can but 
 be contiguous in this world ; neither can every 
 peece of the building be of one form ; nay 
 rather the perfection consists in this, that out 
 of many moderat varieties and brotherly dis- 
 similitudes that are not vastly disproportionall 
 arises the goodly and the gracefull symmetry 
 that commends the whole pile and structure. 
 Let us therefore be more considerat builders, 
 more wise in spirituall architecture, when great 
 reformation is expected. For now the time 
 seems come, wherein Moses the great Prophet 
 may sit in heav'n rejoycing to see that memor- 
 
 1 Pirrhus (318-272 B.C.) Cf. Milton's Sonnet to Sir 
 Henry Vane : — 
 
 . . . " When gowns, not arms, repelled 
 The fierce Epirot and the African bold." 
 
8o AREOPAGITICA 
 
 able and glorious wish of his fulfill'd, when not 
 only our sev'nty Elders, but all the Lords people 
 are become Prophets. No marvell then though 
 some men, and some good men too perhaps, but 
 young in goodnesse, as Joshua then was, envy 
 them. They fret, and out of their own weaknes 
 are in agony, lest those divisions and subdi^^- 
 sions will undoe us. The adversarie again 
 applauds, and waits the hour, when they have 
 brancht themselves out, saith he, small anough 
 into parties and partitions, then "wdll be our 
 time. Fool ! he sees not the firm root, out of 
 which we all grow, though into branches : 
 nor will beware untill hee see om* small 
 divided maniples cutting through at every angle 
 of liis ill united and unweildy brigade. And 
 that we are to hope better of all these supposed 
 sects and schisms, and that we shall not need 
 that sohcitude honest perhaps though over 
 timorous of them that vex in his behalf, but 
 shall laugh in the end, at those malicious 
 applauders of our differences, I have these 
 reasons to perswade me. 
 
 First, when a City shall be as it w^re be- 
 sieg'd and blockt about, her navigable river 
 infested, inrodes and incursions round, defiance 
 and battell oft rumor'd to be marching up ev'n 
 to her walls, and suburb trenches, that then 
 
AREOPAGITICA 8i 
 
 the people, or the greater part, more then at 
 other times, wholly tak'n up with the study 
 of highest and most important matters to be 
 reform'd, should be disputing, reasoning, read- 
 ing, inventing, discoursing, ev'n to a rarity, 
 and admiration, things not before discourst or 
 writt'n of, argues first a singular good will, 
 contentednesse and confidence in your prudent 
 foresight, and safe government, Lords and 
 Commons ; and from thence derives it self to 
 a gallant bravery and well grounded contempt 
 of their enemies, as if there were no small 
 number of as great spirits among us, as his 
 was, who when Rome was nigh besieg'd by 
 Hanibal, being in the City, bought that peece 
 of ground at no cheap rate, whereon Hanibal 
 himself encampt his own regiment.^ Next it 
 is a lively and cherfull presage of our happy 
 successe and victory. For as in a body, when 
 the blood is fresh, the spirits pure and vigorous, 
 not only to vital, but to rationall faculties, and 
 those in the acutest, and the pertest operations 
 of wit and suttlety, it argues in what good 
 phght and constitution the body is, so when 
 the cheerfulnesse of the people is so sprightly 
 up, as that it has, not only wherewith to guard 
 well its own freedom and safety, but to spare, 
 
 ^ Of. Livy, xxvi. 11. 
 
82 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 and to bestow upon the solidest and sublimest 
 points of controversie, and new invention, it 
 bctok'n us not degenerated, nor drooping to a 
 fatall decay, but casting off the old and wrincl'd 
 skin of corruption to outHve these pangs and 
 wax young again, cntring the glorious waies of 
 Truth and prosperous vertue destin'd to be- 
 come great and honourable in these latter ages. 
 Methinks I see in my mind a noble and 
 puissant Nation rousing herself like a strong 
 man after sleep, and shaking her invincible 
 locks : Methinks I see her as an Eagle muing ^ 
 her mighty youth, and kindling her undazl'd 
 eyes at the full mid-day beam ; purging and 
 unsealing her long abused sight at the fountain 
 it self of heav'nly radiance, while the whole 
 noise of timorous and flocking birds, with those 
 also that love the twilight, flutter about, amaz'd 
 at what she means, and in their envious gabble 
 would prognosticat a year of sects and schisms. 
 What shoidd ye doe then, should ye sup- 
 presse all this flowry crop of knowledge and 
 new light sprung up and yet springing daily in 
 this City, should ye set an Oligarchy of twenty 
 ingrossers^ over it, to bring a famin upon our 
 
 1 Moulting; i.e. casting off; in the sense here of 
 attaining fuller plumage and maturity. 
 
 " Merchants who engross, or buy up, with the intention 
 of making a ' ring ' in some commodity. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 83 
 
 minds again, when we shall know nothing 
 but what is measur'd to us by their bushel? 
 Beleeve it, Lords and Commons, they who 
 counsell ye to such a suppressing, doe as good 
 as bid ye suppresse yourselves ; and I will 
 soon shew how. If it be desir'd to know the 
 immediat cause of all this free writing and free 
 speaking, there cannot be assign'd a truer then 
 your own mild, and free, and human govern- 
 ment ; it is the liberty, Lords and Commons, 
 which your own valorous and happy counsels 
 have purchast us, liberty which is the nurse of 
 all great wits ; this is that which hath rarify'd 
 and enhghtn'd our spirits like the influence of 
 heav'n ; this is that which hath enfranchis'd, 
 enlarg'd and lifted up our apprehensions degi'ees 
 . above themselves. Ye cannot make us now 
 lesse capable, lesse knowing, lesse eagarly pur- 
 suing of the truth, unlesse ye first make your 
 selves, that made us so, lesse the lovers, lesse 
 the founders of our true liberty. We can grow 
 ignorant again, brutish, formall, and slavish, 
 as ye found us ; but you then must first be- 
 come that which ye cannot be, oppressive, 
 arbitrary, and tyrannous, as they were from 
 whom ye have free'd us. That our hearts 
 are now more capacious, our thoughts more 
 erected to the search and expectation of greatest 
 
84 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 and exactest things, is the issue of your owne 
 vertu propagated in us ; ye cannot suppresse 
 tluit unlessc ye reinforce an abrogated and mer- 
 cilesse law, that fathers may dispatch at will 
 their own children. And who shall then sticke 
 closest to ye, and excite others? not he who 
 takes up armes for cote and conduct,^ and his 
 four nobles of Danegelt.^ Although I dispraise 
 not the defence of just immunities, yet love my 
 peace better, if that were all. Give me the 
 liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely 
 according to conscience, above all Hberties. 
 
 What would be best advis'd then, if it be 
 found so hurtfull and so unequall to suppresse 
 opinions for the newnes, or the unsutablenes 
 to a customary acceptance, will not be my task 
 to say ; I only shall repeat what I have learnt 
 from one of your o^vn honourable number, a 
 right noble and pious lord, who had he not 
 sacrific'd his life and fortunes to the Church 
 and Commonwealth, we had not now mist and 
 bewayl'd a worthy and undoubted patron of this 
 argument. Ye know him I am sure ; yet I 
 
 ^ I.e. for the sake of the money provided for the main- 
 tenance and conveyance of troops ; whether a soldier, for 
 pay and rations ; or a prince, for war grants. 
 
 - Danegelt was the old tax levied to raise supplies for 
 fighting the Danes. ' Four nobles of Danegelt ' here 
 means four nobles (noble = 63. 8d.) of ship money. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 85 
 
 for honours sake, and may it be eternall to him, 
 shall name him, the Lord Brook} He writing 
 of Episcopacy,^ and by the way treating of sects 
 and schisms, left Ye his vote, or rather now the 
 last words of his dying charge, which I know 
 will ever be of dear and honour'd regard with 
 Ye, so full of meeknes and breathing charity, 
 that next to his last testament, who bequeath'd 
 love and peace to his Disciples, I cannot call to 
 mind where I have read or heard words more 
 mild and peacefuU. He there exhorts us to hear 
 with patience and humility those, however they 
 be miscall'd, that desire to Uve purely, in such 
 a use of Gods Ordinances, as the best guidance 
 of their conscience gives them, and to tolerat 
 them, though in some disconformity to our 
 selves. The book it self will tell us more at 
 large being publisht to the world, and dedi- 
 cated to the Parlament by him who both for his 
 life and for his death deserves, that what advice 
 he left be not laid by without perusall. 
 
 And now the time in speciall is, by priviledge 
 to write and speak what may help to the furder 
 discussing of matters in agitation. The Temple 
 
 ^ The adoptive son of the more famous first Lord 
 Brooke : Fulke Grevill, Sidney's friend. He was shot at 
 "^ ichfield in action during the campaign of 1642-3. 
 
 2 « A Discotirse opening the nature of the Episcopacy,' 
 &c. (1643). 
 
86 ^ AREOPAGITICA 
 
 of Janus with his two controversal faces ^ 
 might now not unsignificantly be set open. 
 And though all the windes of doctrin were let 
 loose to play upon the earth, so Truth be in the 
 field, we do injuriously by licencing and pro- 
 hibiting to misdoubt her strength. Let her and 
 Falshood grapple ; who ever knew Truth put 
 to the wors, in a free and open encounter. Her 
 confuting is the best and surest suppressing. 
 He who hears what praying there is for light 
 and clearer knowledge to be sent down among 
 us, would think of other matters to be consti- 
 tuted beyond the discipline of Geneva, fram'd 
 and fabric't already to om' hands. Yet when 
 the new light which we beg for shines in upon 
 us, there be who en\7^, and oppose, if it come 
 not first in at their casements. What a 
 collusion is this, whenas we are exhorted by the 
 wise man to use dihgence, to seek for ivisdom 
 as for hidd'n treasures early and late, that 
 another order shall enjoy n us to know nothing 
 but by statute. When a man hath bin labour- 
 ing the hardest labour in the deep mines of 
 knowledge, hath furnisht out his findings in all 
 their equipage, drawn forth his reasons as it 
 were a battell raung'd, scatter'd and defeated 
 all objections in his way, calls out his adversary 
 
 1 Cf. Ovid, Fasti, i. 95. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 87 
 
 into the plain, offers him the advantage of wind 
 and sun, if he please ; only that he may try the 
 matter by dint of argument, for his opponents 
 then to sculk, to lay abushments, to keep a 
 narrow bridge of Ucencing where the challenger 
 should passe, though it be valour anough in 
 shouldiership, is but weaknes and cowardise 
 in the wars of Truth. For who knows not 
 that Truth is strong next to the Almighty ; she 
 needs no policies, no strategems, no Hcencings 
 to make her victorious, those are the shifts and 
 the defences that error uses against her power : 
 give her but room, and do not bind her when 
 she sleeps, for then she speaks not true, as 
 the old Proteus did, who spake oracles only 
 when he was caught and bound, but then 
 rather she turns herself into all shapes, except 
 her own, and perhaps tunes her voice accord- 
 ing to the time, as Micaiah did before Ahab,^ 
 untill she be adjur'd into her own hkenes. 
 Yet is it not impossible that she may have 
 more shapes then one. What else is all that 
 rank of things indifferent, wherein Truth may 
 be on this side, or on the other, without being 
 unhke her self. What but a vain shadow 
 else is the abolition of those ordinances, that 
 hand writing nay I'd to the crosse,^ what great 
 
 ^ 1 Kings xxii. - V. Colossians ii. 14, 
 
88 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 purchase is this Christian liberty which Paul 
 so often boasts of. His doctrine is, that he 
 who eats or eats not, regards a day, or re- 
 gards it not, may doe either to the Lord. 
 How many other things might be tolerated 
 in peace, and left to conscience, had we but 
 charity, and were it not the chiefstrong hold 
 of our hypocrisie to be ever judging one 
 another. I fear yet this iron yoke of outward 
 conformity hath left a slavish print upon our 
 necks; the ghost of a linnen decency^ yet 
 haunts us. We stumble and are impatient 
 at the least dividing of one \'isible congrega- 
 tion from another, though it be not in funda- 
 mentalls ; and through our forwardnes to 
 suppresse, and our backAvardnes to recover 
 any enthrall'd peece of truth out of the gripe 
 of custom, we care not to keep tnith separated 
 from truth, which is the fiercest rent and dis- 
 union of all. We doe not see that while we 
 still affect by all means a rigid externall for- 
 mality, we may as soon fall again into a grosse 
 conforming stupidity, a stark and dead con- 
 geahnent of wood and hay and stubble - forc't 
 and frozen together, which is more to the 
 sudden degenerating of a Church then many 
 
 ^ A mere decency of clothe?. 
 - 1 Corinthians iii. 12. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 89 
 
 subdichotomies^ of petty schisms. Not that 
 I can think well of every Ught separation, or 
 that all in a Church is to be expected gold 
 and silver and pretious stones : it is not pos- 
 sible for man to sever the wheat from the 
 tares, the good fish from the other frie; that 
 must be the Angels Ministery at the end of 
 mortall things. Yet if all cannot be of one 
 mind, as who looks they should be? this 
 doubtles is more wholsome, more prudent, 
 and more Christian that many be tolerated, 
 rather then all compell'd. I mean not toler- 
 ated Popery, and open superstition, which 
 as it extirpats all rehgions and civill supre- 
 macies, so it self should be extirpat, provided 
 first that aU charitable and compassionat means 
 be us'd to win and regain the weak and misled : 
 that also which is impious or evil absolutely 
 either against faith or maners no law can pos- 
 sibly permit, that intends not to unlaw it self: 
 but those neighboring differences, or rather indif- 
 ferences, of what I speak of, whether in some 
 point of doctrine or of discipline, which though 
 they may be many, yet need not interrupt the 
 unity of Spirit, if we could but find among us 
 the bond of peace. In the mean while if any 
 one would write, and bring his helpfuU hand to 
 
 ^ Subdivisions. 
 II. F 
 
90 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 the slow-moving Reformation we labour under, 
 if Truth have spok'n to him before others, or 
 but seem'd at least to speak, who hath so 
 bejesuitcd us that we should trouble that man 
 with asking licence to doe so worthy a deed ? 
 and not consider this, that if it come to pro- 
 hibiting, there is not ought more Hkely to be 
 prohibited then truth it self; whose first ap- 
 pearance to our eyes blear'd and dimm'd with 
 prejudice and custom, is more unsightly and 
 unplausible then many errors, ev'n as the 
 person is of many a great man sUght and 
 contemptible to see to. And what doe they 
 tell us vainly of new opinions, when this very 
 opinion of theirs, that none must be heard, 
 but whom they like, is the worst and newest 
 opinion of all others ; and is the cliief cause 
 why sects and schisms doe so much abound, 
 and true knowledge is kept at distance from 
 us ; besides yet a greater danger which is in 
 it. For when God shakes a Kingdome with 
 strong and healthfiill commotions to a generall 
 reforming, 'tis not untrue that many sectaries 
 and false teachers are then busiest in seduc- 
 ing ; but yet more true it is, that God then 
 raises to his own work men of rare abihties, 
 and more then common industry not only 
 to look back and re\dse what hath bin 
 
AREOPAGITICA 91 
 
 taught heretofore, but to gain furder and 
 goe on, some new enlighten'd steps in the dis- 
 covery of truth. For such is the order of Gods 
 enhghtning his Church, to dispense and deal out 
 by degrees his beam, so as our earthly eyes may 
 best sustain it. Neither is God appointed and 
 confin'd, where and out of what place these his 
 chosen shall be first heard to speak ; for he 
 sees not as man sees, chooses not as man 
 chooses, lest we should devote our selves again 
 to set places, and assemblies, and outward call- 
 ings of men ; planting our faith one while in the 
 old Convocation house, ^ and another while in 
 the Chappell ^ at Westminster ; when all the 
 faith and religion that shall be there canoniz'd, 
 is not sufficient without plain convincement, 
 and the charity of patient instruction to supple 
 the least bruise of conscience, to edifie the 
 meanest Christian, who desires to walk in the 
 Spirit, and not in the letter of human trust, for 
 all the number of voices that can be there made, 
 no, though Harry the 7. himself there, with all 
 his leige tombs about him, should lend them 
 voices from the dead, to swell their number. 
 And if the men be erroneous who appear to be 
 
 ^ The Chapter House at Westminster. 
 2 Henry VII. 's Chapel, where the Assembly of Divines 
 met at the time. 
 
92 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 the leading schismaticks, what witholds us but 
 our slotli, our self-will, and distrust in the right 
 cause, that we doe not give them gentle meet- 
 ings and gentle dismissions, that we debate not 
 and examin the matter throughly with liberall 
 and frequent audience ; if not for their sakes, 
 yet for our own ? seeing no man who hath 
 tasted learning, but will confesse the many 
 waies of profiting by those who not contented 
 with stale receits are able to manage, and set 
 forth new positions to the world. And were 
 they but as the dust and cinders of our feet, so 
 long as in that notion they may serve to polish 
 and brighten the armoury of Truth, ev'n for that 
 respect they were not utterly to be cast away. 
 But if they be of those whom God hath fitted 
 for the speciall use of these times with eminent 
 and ample gifts, and those perhaps neither 
 among the Priests, nor among the Pharisees, 
 and we in the hast of a precipitant zeal shall 
 make no distinction, but resolve to stop their 
 mouths, because we fear they come with new 
 and dangerous opinions, as we commonly 
 fore- judge them ere we understand them, 
 no lesse then woe to us, while thinking thus 
 to defend the Gospel, we are found the per- 
 secutors. 
 
 There have bin not a few since the beofinning 
 
AREOPAGITICA 93 
 
 of this Parlament, both of the Presbytery and 
 others who by their imlicenc't books to the con- 
 tempt of an Imprimatur first broke that triple 
 ice clung about our hearts, and taught the people 
 to see day : I hope that none of those were the 
 perswaders to renew upon us this bondage which 
 they themselves have wrought so much good 
 by contemning. But if neither the check that 
 Moses gave to young Joshua, nor the counter- 
 mand which our Saviour gave to young John,^ 
 who was so ready to prohibit those whom he 
 thought unlicenc't, be not anough to admonish 
 our Elders how unacceptable to God their testy 
 mood of prohibiting is, if neither their own re- 
 membrance what evill hath abounded in the 
 Church by this lett of licencing, and what good 
 they themselves have begun by transgressing it, 
 be not anough, but that they will perswade, 
 and execute the most Dominican part of the 
 Inquisition over us, and are already with one 
 foot in the stirrup so active at suppressing, it 
 would be no unequall distribution in the first 
 place to suppresse the suppressors themselves ; 
 whom the change of their condition hath puffc 
 up, more then their late experience of harder 
 times hath made wise. 
 
 1 V. St Luke ix. 49, 50. 
 
94 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 And as for regulating the Presse, let no man 
 think to have the honour of advising ye better 
 then your selves have done in that Order pub- 
 lisht next before this/ that no book be Printed, 
 unlesse the Printers and the Authors name, or 
 at least the Printers be register'd. Those which 
 otherwise come forth, if they be found mischiev- 
 ous and libellous, the fire and the executioner 
 will be the timeliest and the most effectuall 
 remedy, that mans prevention can use. For this 
 authentic Spanish policy of licencing books, if I 
 have said ought, will prove the most unlicenc't 
 book it self within a short while ; and was the im- 
 mediat image of a Star-chamber decree - to that 
 purpose made in those very times when that Court 
 did the rest of those her pious works, for which 
 she is now fall'n from the Starres with Lucifer. 
 Whereby ye may guesse what kiude of State 
 prudence, what love of the people, w^hat care of 
 Religion, or good manners there was at the 
 contriving, although with singular hypocrisie it 
 pretended to bind books to their good be- 
 haviour. And how it got the upper hand of 
 your precedent Order so well constituted before, 
 if we may beleeve those men whose profession 
 gives them cause to enquire most, it may be 
 
 ^ The Order made 29th January 1641-2. 
 2 The Decree of the 11th July 1637. 
 
AREOPAGITICA 95 
 
 doubted there was in it the fraud of some old 
 patentees and monopolizers in the trade of book- 
 selling ; who under pretence of the poor in 
 their Company not to be defrauded, and the 
 just retaining of each man his severall copy, 
 which God forbid should be gainsaid, brought 
 divers glosing colours to the House, which were 
 indeed but colours, and serving to no end ex- 
 cept it be to exercise a superiority over their 
 neighbours, men who doe not therefore labour 
 in an honest profession to which learning is in- 
 detted, that they should be made other mens 
 vassals. Another end is thought was aym'd at 
 by some of them in procuring by petition this 
 Order,^ that having power in their hands, ma- 
 lignant books might the easier scape abroad, as 
 the event shews. But of these Sophisms and 
 Elenchs^ of merchandize I skill not : This I 
 know, that errors in a good government and in 
 a bad are equally almost incident ; for what 
 Magistrate may not be mis-inform'd, and much 
 the sooner, if liberty of Printing be reduc't into 
 the power of a few ; but to redresse willingly 
 and speedily what hath bin err'd, and in highest 
 
 1 I.e. the Order of 9th March 1642-3. 
 
 2 A syllogism devised to lead one's opponent into con- 
 tradicting himself. 
 
<)6 AREOPAGITICA 
 
 autority to esteem a plain advertisement more 
 then others have done a sumptuous bribe, is 
 a vertue (honour'd Lords and Commons) 
 answerable to Your highest actions, and where- 
 of none can participat but greatest and wisest 
 men. 
 
II 
 
 A DISCOURSE ON ANCIENT AND 
 MODERN LEARNING. By Joseph 
 Addison.^ 
 
 A Discourse on Ancient and Modern 
 Learning. 
 
 The present Age seems to have a very true 
 Taste of polite Learning, and perhaps takes the 
 Beauties of an ancient Author, as much as 'tis 
 possible for it at so great a Distance of Time. 
 It may therefore be some Entertainment to us 
 to consider what Pleasure the Cotemporaries 
 and Countrymen of our old Writers found in 
 their Works, which we at present are not cap- 
 able of; and whether at the same Time the 
 Moderns mayn't have some Advantages peculiar 
 to themselves, and discover several Graces that 
 arise merely from the Antiquity of an Author. 
 
 And here the First and most general Advan- 
 tage, the Ancients had over us, was, that they 
 knew all the secret History of a Composure : 
 
 ^ Published as a posthumous pamphlet in 1737 ; written 
 probably thirty years earlier. 
 
98 A DISCOURSE ON ANCIENT 
 
 what was the Occasion of such a Discourse or 
 Poem, whom such a Sentence aim'd at, what 
 person lay disguis'd in such a character : For by 
 this Means they cou'd see their Author in a 
 Variety of Lights, and receive several diflFerent 
 Entertainments from the same Passage. We, on 
 the contrary, can only please ourselves with the 
 Wit or good Sense of a Writer, as it stands 
 stripp'd of all those accidental circumstances 
 that at first help'd to set it off: we have him 
 but in a single View, and only discover such 
 essential standing Beauties as no Time or Years 
 can possibly deface. 
 
 I don't question but Horner,^ who in the 
 Diversity of his Characters has far excell'd all 
 other Heroic Poets, had an Eye on some real 
 Persons who were then li%'iug, in most of 'em. 
 The Description of Thersitis is so spiteful and 
 particular, that I can't but tliink it one of his 
 own, or his Country's Enemies in disguise, as, 
 on the Contrary, his Nestor looks like the 
 Figure of some ancient and venerable Patriot : 
 An effeminate Fop, perhaps, of those times 
 lies hid in Paris, and a crafty Statesman in 
 
 ^ ' Virgil and Homer might compliment their heroes by 
 interweaving the actions of deities with their achieve- 
 ments, . . . 'Spectator, No. 523. Oct. 30, 1712. 
 
AND MODERN LEARNING 99 
 
 Ulysses: Patrodus may be a Compliment on 
 a celebrated Friend, and Agamemnon the 
 Description of a majestick Prince. Ajax, 
 Hector, and Achilles are all of 'em valiant, 
 but in so different a Manner, as perhaps has 
 characterized the different kinds of Heroism 
 that Homer had observed in some of his great 
 Cotemporaries. Thus far we learn from the 
 Poet's Life, that he endeavoured to gain 
 Favour and Patronage by his Verse ; and 'tis 
 very probable he thought on this Method of 
 ingratiating himself with particular Persons, as 
 he has made the Drift of the whole Poem a 
 Compliment on his Country in general. 
 
 And to shew us that this is not a bare 
 Conjecture only, we are told in the Account 
 that is left us of Homer, that he inserted the 
 very Names of some of his Cotemporaries. 
 Tychius and Mentor in particular are very 
 neatly celebrated in him. The First of these 
 was an honest Cobler, who had been very 
 kind and serviceable to the Poet, and is there- 
 fore advanc'd in his poem, to be Ajax's shield- 
 maker. The other was a great Man in Ithaca, 
 who for his Patronage and Wisdom has gain'd 
 a very honourable Post in the Odysses, where 
 he accompanies his great Country-man in his 
 
100 A DISCOURSE ON ANCIENT 
 
 Travels, and gains such a Reputation for his 
 Prudence, that Minerva took his Shape upon 
 her when she made herself visible. Themius 
 was the Name of Homer's school-master, but 
 the Poet has certainly drawn his own Character 
 under, when he sets him forth as a Favourite 
 of Apollo, that was deprived of his Sight, 
 and used to sing the noble Exploits of the 
 Grecians. 
 
 Virgil too may well be suppos'd to give 
 several Hints in his Poem, which we are not 
 able to take, and to have lain^ many bye- 
 designs and under-plots, which are too remote 
 for us to look into distinctly at so great a 
 Distance : But as for the Characters of such 
 as Hv'd in his own Time, I have not so much 
 to say of him as Homer. He is indeed very 
 barren in this Part of his Poem, and has 
 but little varied the Manners of the principal 
 Persons in it. His ^neas is a Compound of 
 Valour and Piety, Achates calls himself liis 
 Friend, but takes no occasion of shewing him- 
 self so ; Mnesteus,^ Sergestus,- Gyas, and 
 
 ' Addison uses ' lain ' for ' laid ' also in his notes on 
 Ovid, and in the Spectator. 
 
 - Mnestheus. One of the Trojan leaders. Mn., iv. 
 288, etc. 
 
 ^ Sergestus. jEn., i. 514, etc. 
 
AND MODERN LEARNING loi 
 
 Cloanthus, are all of 'em Men of the same 
 Stamp and Character. 
 
 Fortemq ; Gyan, fortemq ; Cloanthum.i 
 
 Besides, Virgil was so very nice and deli- 
 cate a Writer, that probably he might not 
 think his Compliment to Augustus so great, 
 or so artfully conceal'd, if he had scatter'd 
 his Praises more promiscuously and made his 
 Court to others in the same Poem. Had he 
 entertained any such Design Agrippa must in 
 justice have challenged the second Place, and 
 if Agrippa s Representative had been admitted, 
 iEneas wou'd have had very little to do ; 
 which wou'd not have redounded much to the 
 Honour of his Emperor. If therefore Virgil 
 has shadow'd any great Persons besides 
 Augustus in his Characters, they are to be 
 found only in the meaner Actors of his Poem, 
 among the Disputers for a petty Victory in the 
 fifth Book, and perhaps in some few other 
 Places. I shall only mention lopas, the philo- 
 sophical Musician at Didos Banquet, where I 
 cannot but fancy some celebrated Master com- 
 pHmented, for methinks the epithet Crinitus is 
 so wholly foreign to the Purpose, that it per- 
 
 ^ jEn., i. 226. 
 
I02 A DISCOURSE ON ANCIENT 
 
 fectly points at some particular Person ; who 
 perhaps (to pursue a wandring Guess,) was 
 one of the Grecian Performers, then in Rome, 
 for besides that they were the best Musicians 
 and Philosophers, the Termination of the Name 
 belongs to their Language, and the Epithet is 
 the same [Ka/o>/«:o/uoa)j/Te9] that Homer gives to 
 his Countrymen in general. 
 
 Now, that we may have a right Notion of 
 the Pleasure we have lost on this Account, let 
 us only consider the different Entertainment we 
 of the present Age meet with, in Mr Drydens 
 Absalom and Achitophel, from what an English 
 Reader will find a Himdred Years hence, when 
 the Figures of the Persons concern'd are not 
 so lively and fresh in the Minds of Posterity. 
 Nothing can be more delightfril than to see 
 two Characters facing each other all along and 
 running parallel through the whole Piece, to 
 compare Feature ^vith Feature, to find out the 
 nice Resemblance in every Touch, and to see 
 where the Copy fails, and where it comes up 
 to the Original. The Reader cann't but be 
 pleas'd to have an Acquaintance thus rising 
 by degrees in his Imagination, for whilst the 
 Mind is busy in applying every Particular, 
 and adjusting the several Parts of the De- 
 
AND MODERN LEARNING 103 
 
 scription, it is not a little delighted with its 
 Discoveries, and feels something like the Satis- 
 faction of an Author from his own Composure. 
 
 What is here said of Homer and Virgil 
 holds very strong in the ancient Satirists and 
 Authors of Dialogues, but especially of Come- 
 dies. What cou'd we have made of Aristo- 
 phanes's Clouds, had he not told us on whom 
 the Ridicule turn'd ; and we have good Reason 
 to believe we should have relish'd it more 
 than we do, had we known the Design of 
 each Character, and the secret Intimations in 
 every Line. Histories themselves often come 
 down to us defective on this Account where 
 the Writers are not full enough to give us 
 a perfect Notion of Occurrences, for the Tradi- 
 tion, which at first was a Comment on the 
 Story, is now quite lost and the Writing only 
 preserv'd for the Information of Posterity. 
 
 I might be very tedious on this Head, but 
 I shall only mention another Author who, I 
 believe, received no small Advantage from this 
 Consideration, and that is Theophrastus,^ who 
 probably has shown us several of his Cotem- 
 
 ^ Addison probably alludes to ' the divine speaker's ' 
 ' Characters.' —Of. The Spectator, No. 223. 
 
I04 A DISCOURSE ON ANCIENT 
 
 poraries in the Representation of his Passions 
 and Vices ; for we may observe in most of his 
 Characters something foreign to his Subject, 
 and some other Folly or Infirmity mixing itself 
 with the principal Argument of his Discourse. 
 His Eye seems to have been so attentively 
 fix'd on the Person in whom the Vanity reign'd, 
 that other Circumstances of hLs Behaviour be- 
 sides those he was to describe insinuated 
 themselves unawares, and crept insensibly into 
 the Character. It was hard for him to extract 
 a single FoUy out of the whole Mass with- 
 out leaving a little Mixtm-e in the separation : 
 So that his particular Vice appears something 
 discolour'd in the Description, and his Dis- 
 course, like a Glass set to catch the Image 
 of any single Object, gives us a Uvely Resem- 
 blance of what we look for ; but at the same 
 Time returns a little shadoAvy Landskip of the 
 Parts that lie about it. 
 
 And, as the Ancients enjoyed no small Pri\i- 
 lege above us, in knowing the Persons hinted 
 at in several of their Authors ; so they receiv'd 
 a great Advantage, in seeing often the Pictures 
 and Images that are frequently described in 
 many of their Poets. ^Vlien Phidias had 
 carved out his Jupiter, and the Spectators 
 
AND MODERN LEARNING 105 
 
 stood astonish'd at so awful and majestic a 
 Figure, he surprized them more, by teUing 
 them it was a Copy : and, to make his Words 
 true, shew'd them the Original, in that magni- 
 ficent Description of Jupiter, towards the 
 latter End of the first Iliad. The comparing 
 both together probably discover'd secret Graces 
 in each of 'em, and gave new Beauty to their 
 Performances: Thus in Virgil's first jEneid, 
 where we see the Representation of Rage 
 bound up, and chain'd in the temple of 
 Janus : 
 
 — Furor imjyius intus 
 Sceva sedens super arma, et centum vinctus ahenis 
 Post tergum nodis,fremit horridus ore cruento} 
 
 Tho' we are much pleas'd with so wonder- 
 ful a Description, how must the Pleasure 
 double on those who cou'd compare the Poet 
 and the Statuary together, and see which 
 had put most Horrour and Distraction into 
 his Figure. But we, who live in these lower 
 Ages of the World, are such entire Strangers 
 to this Kind of Diversion, that we often mis- 
 take the Description of a Picture for an 
 Allegory, and don't so much as know when 
 it is hinted at. Juvenal tells us, a Flatterer 
 
 1^71., i. 298-300. 
 II. G 
 
io6 A DISCOURSE ON ANCIENT 
 
 will not stick to compare a weak Pair of 
 Shoulders to those of Hercules, when he lifts 
 up Antceus from the Earth. Now, what a 
 forc'd, unnatural Similitude does this seem, 
 amidst the deep Silence of Scholiasts and 
 Commentators ! But how full of Life and 
 Humour, if we may suppose it alluded to 
 some remarkable Statue of these two Cham- 
 pions, that perhaps stood in a pubUck place 
 of the City? There is now in Borne a very 
 ancient Statue entangled in a Couple of 
 Marble Serpents, and so exactly cut in Lao- 
 coons Posture and Circumstances, that we 
 may be sure Virgil drew after the Statuary, 
 or the Statuary after Virgil: And if the Poet 
 was the Copyer, we may be sure it was no 
 small Pleasure to a Roman, that cou'd see 
 so celebrated an Image out-done in the 
 Description. 
 
 I might here expatiate largely on several 
 Customs that are now forgotten, tho' often 
 intimated by ancient Authors ; and particu- 
 larly, on many Expressions of their cotem- 
 porary Poets, which they had an Eye upon 
 in their Reflections, tho' we at present know 
 notliing of the Business. Thus Ovid begins 
 
AND MODERN LEARNING 107 
 
 the second book of his Elegies, with these 
 two lines : 
 
 H(BC quoque scribebam Pelignis natus aquosis, 
 Ille. ego nequitice Naso poeta mece. 
 
 How far these may prove the four verses pre- 
 fixed to Virgil's j^neid genuine, I shall not 
 pretend to determine : But I dare say Ovid in 
 this Place hints at 'em if they are so, and I 
 believe ev'ry Reader will agree that the Humour 
 of these Lines wou'd be very much heightened 
 by such an Allusion, if we suppose a Love 
 Adventure usher'd in with an Ille Ego, and 
 taking its Rise from something like a Preface 
 to the JEneid. Guesses might be numberless 
 on this Occasion, and tho' sometimes they may 
 be grounded falsly, yet they often give a new 
 Pleasure to the Reader and throw in abundance 
 of Light on the more intricate and obscure 
 Passages of an ancient Author. 
 
 But there is nothing we want more Direction 
 in at present than the Writings of such ancient 
 Authors as abound with Humour, especially 
 where the Humour runs in a Kind of Cant, and 
 a particular Set of Phrases. We may indeed 
 in many Places, by the Help of a good Scholiast, 
 and Skill in the Customs and Language of a 
 
io8 A DISCOURSE ON ANCIENT 
 
 Country, know that such Phrases are humorous, 
 and such a Metaphor drawn fi-om a ridiculous 
 Custom ; but at the same Time the Ridicule 
 flags, and the Mirth languishes to a modern 
 Reader, who is not so conversant and familiar 
 with the Words and Ideas that lie before him ; 
 so that the Spirit of the Jest is quite paU'd and 
 deaden'd, and the Briskness of an Expression 
 lost to an Ear that is so little accustomed to it.^ 
 This Want of discerning between the comical 
 and serious Stile of the Ancients, has run our 
 modern Editors and Commentators into a 
 senseless Affectation of Terences and Plautuss 
 Phrases, when they desu'e to appear pm'e and 
 classical in their language : So that you often 
 see the grave Pedant making a Buffoon of him- 
 self, where he least designs it, and running into 
 light and triffing Phrases, where he wou'd fain 
 appear solemn and judicious. 
 
 Another great Pleasm-e the Ancients had 
 beyond us, if we consider 'em as the Poet's 
 country-men, was, that they liv'd as it were 
 upon the Spot, and within the Verge of the 
 Poem ; their Habitations lay among the Scenes 
 of the j^neid ; they cou'd find out their own 
 
 1 Of. the end of Addison's paper in the Spectator on 
 translating Sappho (No. 223. Nov. 15, 1711). 
 
AND MODERN LEARNING 109 
 
 Country in Homer, and had every Day, per- 
 haps, in their Sight, the Mountain or Field 
 where such an Adventure happen'd, or such a 
 Battle was fought. Many of 'em had often 
 walk'd on the Banks of Helicon, or the Sides of 
 Parnassus, and knew all the private Haunts 
 and Retirements of the Muses : so that they 
 liv'd as it were on Fairy Ground, and convers'd 
 in an enchanted Region, where every Thing they 
 look'd upon appear'd Romantic, and gave a 
 thousand pleasing Hints to their Imaginations. 
 To consider Virgil only in this Respect : How 
 must a Roman have been pleas'd, that was well 
 acquainted with the Capes and Promontories, 
 to see the Original of their Names as they stand 
 derived from Misenus,'^ Palinurus,^ and Cajeta?^ 
 That cou'd follow the Poet's Motions and 
 attend his Hero in all his Marches from Place 
 to Place ! that was very well acquainted with 
 the lake Amsanctus,'^ where the Fury sunk, and 
 
 1 The trumpeter of Hector, who followed Jllneas. He 
 was drowned off the coast of the Campania, and buried 
 on C. Miseno. 
 
 2 The pilot of Eneas' ship, who was murdered on the 
 sea coast near Velia. Cf. uEn., 3, 513, 5, 840, and 6, 341. 
 
 3 Gaeta. So named from Caieta, Eneas' nurse, who was 
 buried there. jEn.,l,\. 
 
 * A sulphureous lake on the banks of which was a 
 temple to the goddess Mephitis. The lake is now called 
 L. Mufiti, and is close to the town of Fricenio. Fide 
 jEn., 7, 563. 
 
no A DISCOURSE ON ANCIENT 
 
 could lead you to the Mount of the Cave where 
 tineas took his Descent for Hell ? Their being 
 conversant with the Place, where the Poem was 
 transacted, gave 'em a greater Relish than we 
 can have at present of several Parts of it ; as it 
 affected their Imaginations more strongly, and 
 diffus'd through the whole Narration a greater 
 Air of Truth. The Places stood as so many 
 Marks and Testimonies to the Veracity of the 
 Story that was told of 'em, and help'd the 
 Reader to impose upon himself in the Credi- 
 bility of the Relation. To consider only that 
 Passage in the 8th u^neid, where the Poet 
 brings his Hero acquainted with Evander,^ and 
 gives him a Prospect of that Circuit of Ground, 
 which was afterwards cover'd with the metro- 
 polis of the world. The Story of Caeus, which 
 he there gives us at large, was probably raised 
 on some old confus'd Tradition of the Place, 
 and if so, was doubly entertaining to a Roman, 
 when he saw it work'd up into so noble a Piece 
 of Poetry, as it wou'd have pleas'd an English- 
 mail, to have seen in Prince Arthur any of the 
 old Traditions of Guy varied and beautified in 
 an Episode, had the Chronology suffered the 
 
 1 Evander was leader of the Pelasgi, and opposed to 
 Cacus, who was chief of a different sacerdotal faction. 
 yEiK, 8, 196. 
 
AND MODERN LEARNING iii 
 
 Author to have led his Hero into Warwickshire 
 on that Occasion. The Map of the Place, which 
 was afterwards the Seat of Borne, must have 
 been wonderfully pleasing to one that lived 
 upon it afterwards, and saw all the Alterations 
 that happen'd in such a Compass of Ground : 
 Two Passages in it are inimitably fine, which 
 I shall here transcribe, and leave the Reader 
 to judge what Impressions they made on the 
 Imagination of a Roman, who had every Day 
 before his Eyes the Capitol and the Forum. 
 
 Hinc ad Tar2:)eiam sedem et capitolia ducit 
 Aurea nunc, olim silvestribus horrida dumis. 
 Jain turn Religio pavidos terrebat agrestes 
 Dira loci, jam turn silvam saxumq ; tremehant. 
 Hoc 7iemus, hunc, inquit, frondoso vertice collem, 
 Quis Deus, incertum est, habitat Deus. Arcades 
 
 ipsum 
 Credunt se vidisse Jovem : Cum smpe nigrantem 
 jEgida concuteret dextrd, nimbosq ; cieret. 
 
 And afterwards, 
 
 — ad tecta subibatit 
 Pauperis Evandri, passimq ; armenta videbant 
 Romanoq ; foro et lautis mugire carinis. 
 
 There is another engaging Circumstance 
 that made Virgil and Homer more particularly 
 charming to their own Country-men, than they 
 can possibly appear to any of the Moderns ; 
 
112 A DISCOURSE ON ANCIENT 
 
 and this they took hold of by choosing their 
 Heroes out of tlieir own Nation : For by this 
 means they have humour'd and delighted the 
 Vanity of a Grecian or Roman Reader, they 
 have powerfully engaged him on the Heroe's 
 Side, and made him, as it were, a Party in 
 every Action : so that the Narration renders 
 him more intent, the happy Events raise a 
 greater Pleasure in him, the passionate Part 
 more moves him, and in a Word the whole 
 Poem comes more home, and touches him 
 more nearly, than it would have done, had 
 the Scene lain in another Country, and a 
 Foreigner been the Subject of it. No doubt 
 but the Inhabitants of Ithaca preferred the 
 Odysses to the Iliad, as the Mynnidons, on 
 the contrary, were not a little proud of their 
 Achilles. The Men of Pylos probably could 
 repeat Word for Word the wise sentences of 
 Nestor: and we may well suppose Agamem- 
 non's Country-men often pleased themselves 
 with their Prince's Superiority in the Greek 
 Confederacy. I believe, therefore, no Eng- 
 lishman reads Homer or Virgil with such an 
 inward Triumph of Thought, and such a 
 Passion of Glory, as those who saw in them 
 the Exploits of their own Country-men or 
 Ancestors. And here by the Way, our Milton 
 
AND MODERN LEARNING 113 
 
 has been more universally engaging in the 
 Choice of his Persons, than any other Poet 
 can possibly be. He has obliged all Mankind, 
 and related the whole Species to the two 
 chief Actors in his Poem. Nay, what is in- 
 finitely more considerable, we behold in him, 
 not only our Ancestors, but our Representa- 
 tives. We are really engaged in their Adven- 
 tures, and have a personal Interest in their 
 good, or ill Success. We are not only their 
 OfF-spring, but sharers in their Fortunes ; and 
 no less than our own eternal Happiness, or 
 Misery, depends on their single conduct : So 
 that ev'ry Reader will here find himself con- 
 cern'd, and have all his Attention and Solici- 
 tude rais'd, in every Turn and Circumstance 
 of the whole Poem. 
 
 If the Ancients took a greater Pleasure in 
 the Reading of their Poets than the Moderns 
 can, their Pleasure still rose higher in the 
 Perusal of their Orators ; tho' this I must 
 confess proceeded not so much from their 
 Precedence to us in respect of Time, as Judg- 
 ment. Every City among them swarm'd with 
 Rhetoricians, and every Senate-house was 
 almost filled with Orators ; so that they 
 were perfectly well vers'd in all the Rules of 
 
114 A DISCOURSE ON ANCIENT 
 
 Rhetoric, and perhaps knew several Secrets 
 in the Art that let 'em into such Beauties of 
 Demosthenes, or Cicero, as are not yet dis- 
 covered by a modern Reader. And this I 
 take to have been the chief Reason of that 
 wonderful Efficacy we find ascrib'd to the 
 ancient Oratory, from what we meet with 
 in the present ; for, in all Arts, every Man 
 is most mov'd with the Perfection of 'em, as 
 he understands 'em best. Now, the Rulers 
 of Greece and Rome had generally so well 
 accomplish'd themselves in the politer Parts 
 of Learning, that they had a high Rehsh of 
 a noble Expression, were transported with a 
 well-turn'd Period, and not a Little pleas'd to 
 see a Reason urged in its full Force. They 
 knew how proper such a Passage was to affect 
 the Mind, and by admu'ing it, insensibly begot 
 in themselves such a Motion as the Orator 
 desir'd. The Passion arose in 'em unawares, 
 from their considering the Aptness of such 
 Words to raise it. Accordingly, we find the 
 Force of Tulhjs Eloquence sliew'd itself most 
 on C(V.sar, who probably understood it best; 
 and Cicero himself was so affected with 
 Demosthenes, that 'tis no Wonder when he 
 was ask'd, which he thought the best of his 
 Orations, he shou'd reply. The Longest. But 
 
AND MODERN LEARNING 115 
 
 now the Generality of Mankind are so wholly 
 ignorant of the Charms of Oratory, that Tully 
 himself, who guided the Lords of the whole 
 Earth at his Pleasure, were he now living, 
 and a Speaker in a modern Assembly, wou'd 
 not, with all that divine Pomp and Heat of 
 Eloquence, be able to gain over one Man 
 to his Party. The Vulgar indeed of every 
 Age, are equally mov'd by false Strams of 
 Rhetoric, but they are not the Persons I am 
 here concern'd to account for. 
 
 The last Circumstance I shall mention, 
 which gave the Ancients a greater Pleasure in 
 the Reading of their own Authors than we are 
 capable of, is that Knowledge they had of the 
 Sound and Harmony of their language, which 
 the Moderns have at present a very imperfect 
 Notion of We find, ev'n in Music, that dif- 
 ferent Nations have different Tastes of it, and 
 those who most agree have some particular 
 Manner and Graces proper to themselves, that 
 are not so agreeable to a Foreigner : whether 
 or no it be that, as the Temper of the Climates 
 varies, it causes an Alteration in the animal 
 Spirits, and the Organs of Hearing ; or as such 
 Passions reign most in such a Country, so the 
 Sounds are most pleasing that most affect those 
 
ii6 A DISCOURSE ON ANCIENT 
 
 Passions ; or that the Sounds, which the Ear 
 lias ever been most accustom'd to, insensibly 
 conform the secret Texture of it to themselves, 
 and wear in it such Passages as are best fitted 
 for their own Reception ; or, in the last Place, 
 that our national Prejudice, and Narrowness of 
 Mind, makes everything appear odd to us that 
 is new and uncommon : Whether any one, or all 
 of these Reasons may be look'd upon as the 
 Cause, we find by certain Experience, that what 
 is tuneful in one Country, is harsh and ungrate- 
 fiil in another. And if this Consideration holds 
 in Musical Sounds, it does much more in those 
 that are Articulate, because there is a greater 
 Variety of Syllables than of Notes, and the Ear 
 is more accustom'd to Speech than Songs. But 
 had we never so good an Ear, we have still a 
 fault'ring tongue, and a Kind of Impediment in 
 our Speech. Our Pronunciation is without 
 doubt very ^videly different from that of the 
 Greeks and Romans ; and om* Voices, in respect 
 of theirs, are so out of Tmie, that, shou'd an 
 Ancient hear us, he wou'd think we were read- 
 inar in another Tongue, and scarce be able to 
 know his own Composure, by our Repetition 
 of it. We may be sure, therefore, whatever 
 imaginary Notions we may frame to ourselves, 
 of the Harmony of an Author, they are very 
 
AND MODERN LEARNING 117 
 
 difFerent from the Ideas which the Author him- 
 self had of his own Performance. 
 
 Thus we see how Time has quite worn out, 
 or decay 'd, several Beauties of our ancient 
 Authors ; but to make a little Amends for the 
 Graces they have lost, there are some few others 
 which they have gather'd from their great Age 
 and Antiquity in the World. And here we 
 may first observe, how very few Passages in 
 their Stile appear fiat and low to a modern 
 Reader, or carry in 'em a mean and vulgar Air 
 of Expression ; which certainly arises, in a great 
 Measure, from the Death and Disuse of the 
 Languages in which the Ancients compil'd their 
 Works. Most of the Forms of Speech made 
 use of in common Conversation, are apt to sink 
 the Dignity of a serious Stile, and to take off 
 from the Solemnity of the Composition that 
 admits them ; nay, those very Phrases, that are 
 in themselves highly proper and significant, and 
 were at first perhaps study'd and elaborate 
 Expressions, make but a poor Figure in Writing 
 after they are once adopted into common Dis- 
 course, and sound over-familiar to an Ear that 
 is everywhere accustomed to them. They are 
 too much dishonour'd by common Use, and 
 contract a meanness, by passing so frequently 
 
ii8 A DISCOURSE ON ANCIENT 
 
 through the Mouths of the Vulgar. For this 
 Reason, we often meet with something of a Base- 
 ness in the Stiles of our best English Authors, 
 which we can't be so sensible of in the Latin 
 and Greek writers ; because their Language is 
 dead, and no more us'd in our famiUar Conver- 
 sations ; so that they have now laid aside all 
 their natural Homeliness and Simplicity, and 
 appear to us in the Splendor and Formahty of 
 Strangers. We are not intimately enough 
 acquainted with them, and never met with their 
 Expressions but in Print, and that too on a 
 serious Occasion ; and therefore find nothing of 
 that Levity or Meanness in the Ideas they give 
 us, as they might convey into then- Minds, who 
 used 'em as their Mother-Tongue. To consider 
 the Latin Poets in this Light, Ovid, in his 
 Metamorphosis, and Lucan,^ in several Parts of 
 him, are not a little beholden to Antiquity, for 
 the Privilege I have here meution'd, who wou'd 
 appear but very plain JNIen without it ; as we 
 may the better find, if we take 'em out of their 
 Numbers, and see how naturally they fall into 
 low Prose. Claudian- and Statins,^ on the 
 
 1 M. Anna^us Lucanus, a.d. 38. Author of the ' Phar- 
 salia.' Executed by order of Nero, aged 27. 
 
 - Claudianus, born at Alexandria, a.d. 365. 
 
 ^ P. Papinius Statins. Author of the ' Thebaid,' and 
 a finer poet than Claudian. 
 
AND MODERN LEARNING 119 
 
 Contrary^ whilst they endeavour too much to 
 deviate from common and vulgar Phrases, clog 
 their Verse with unnecessary Epithets, and 
 swell their Stile with forced, unnatural Expres- 
 sions, till they have blown it up into Bombast ; 
 so that their Sense has much ado to struggle 
 through their Words. Virgil, and Horace in 
 his Odes, have run between these two Extremes, 
 and made their Expressions very sublime, but 
 at the same time very natural. This Considera- 
 tion, therefore, least affects them, for, tho' you 
 take their Verse to Pieces, and dispose of their 
 Words as you please, you still find such glorious 
 Metaphors, Figures, and Epithets, as give it too 
 great a Majesty for Prose, and look something 
 hke the ruin of a noble Pile, where you see 
 broken Pillars, scatter'd obelisks, maimed 
 statues, and a Magnificence in Confusion. 
 
 And as we are not much offended with the 
 low Idiotisms ^ of a dead Language, so neither 
 are we very sensible of any familiar Words that 
 are used in it ; as we may more particularly 
 observe in the names of Persons and Places. 
 We find in our English Writers, how much the 
 proper Name of one of our own Country-men 
 
 ^ Addison uses this word for 'idioms,' intending perhaps 
 a play upon the word. 
 
120 A DISCOURSE ON ANCIENT 
 
 % 
 
 pulls down the Language that surrounds it, 
 and familiarizeth a whole Sentence. For our 
 Ears are so often used to it, that we find some- 
 thing vulgar and common in the Sound and 
 Cant ; but fancy the Pomp and Solemnity of 
 stile too much humbled and depress'd by it. 
 For this Reason, the Authors of Poems and 
 Romances, who are not tied up to any particu- 
 lar Set of proper Names, take the Liberty of 
 inventing new ones, or, at least, of chusing such 
 as are not used in their own Country ; and, by 
 this Means, not a little maintain the Grandeur 
 and Majesty of their Language. Now the 
 proper Names of a Latin or Greek Author have 
 the same Effect upon us as those of a Romance, 
 because we meet ^\ith 'em no where else but in 
 Books. Cato, Pompey, and Marcellus, sound 
 as great in our Ears, who have none of their 
 Families among us, as Agamemnon, Hector, and 
 Achilles ; and therefore, tho' they might flatten 
 an Oration of Tully to a Roman, Reader, they 
 have no such Effiect upon an English one. 
 What I have here said, may perhaps give us 
 the Reason why Virgil, when he mentions the 
 Ancestors of three noble Roman Families, turns 
 Sergius, Memm,ius, and Cluentius, which might 
 have degraded his Verse too much, into Ser- 
 gest'us, 3Inestheus, and Cloanthiis, tho' the three 
 
AND MODERN LEARNING 121 
 
 first woii'd have been as high and sonorous to 
 us as the other. 
 
 But tho' the Poets cou'd make thus free with 
 the proper Names of Persons, and in that re- 
 spect enjoy'd a privilege beyond the Prose 
 Writers ; they lay both under an equal Obhga- 
 tion, as to the Names of Places : For there is 
 no Poetical Geography, Rivers are the same in 
 Prose and Verse ; and the Towns and Countries 
 of a Romance differ nothing from those of a 
 true History. How oddly, therefore, must the 
 Name of a paultry Village sound to those who 
 were well acquainted with the Meanness of the 
 Place ; and yet how many such Names are to 
 be met with in the Catalogues of Homer and 
 Virgil ? Many of their Words must, therefore, 
 very much shock the ear of a Roman or Greek, 
 especially whilst the Poem was new ; and ap- 
 pear as meanly to their own Country-men as 
 the Duke of Buckingham's Putney Pikes and 
 Chelsea Curiaseers do to an Englishman. But 
 these their Catalogues have no such disadvan- 
 tageous Sounds in 'em to the Ear of a Modern, 
 who scarce ever hears of the Names out of the 
 Poet, or knows anything of the Places that 
 belong to them. London may sound as well to 
 a Foreigner as Troy or Rome ; and Islington, 
 
 II. H 
 
122 A DISCOURSE ON ANCIENT 
 
 perhaps, better than London to them who have 
 no distinct Ideas arising from the Names. I 
 have here only mention'd the names of Men and 
 Places ; but we may easily carry the Obser- 
 vation further, to those of several Plants, 
 Animals, &c. Thus,^ where Virgil compares 
 the flight of Mercury to that of a Water-Fowl, 
 Servius'^ tells us, that he purposely omitted the 
 Word Mergus, that he might not debase his 
 Stile with it ; which, tho' it might have offended 
 the Niceness of a Roman ear, wou'd have 
 sounded more tolerably in ours. Scaliger, in- 
 deed, ridicules the old SchoHast for his Note ; 
 because, as he observes, the word Mergus is 
 used by the same Poet in his Georgics. But 
 the Critic shou'd have cousider'd that, in the 
 Georgics, Virgil studied Description more than 
 Majesty ; and therefore might justly admit a 
 low Word into that Poem, which wou'd have 
 disgraced his j^neid, especially, when a God 
 was to be join'd vrith. it in the Comparison. 
 
 As Antiquity thus conceals what is low and 
 vulgar in an Author, so does it draw a Kind of 
 
 ^ . . . avi similis, qu£e circum littora, circum Piscosos 
 scopulos, humilis volat ivquora juxta. jEn., iv. 254, 5. 
 
 - Maurus Honoratus Servius, a celebrated grammarian 
 of the 5th century. His Commentaries on Virgil are his 
 best known work. 
 
AND MODERN LEARNING 123 
 
 Veil over any Expression that is strain'd above 
 Nature, and recedes too much from the famihar 
 Forms of Speech. A violent Grecism, that 
 wou'd startle a Roman at the Reading of it, 
 sounds more natural to us, and is less dis- 
 tinguishable from other Parts of the Stile. An 
 obsolete, or a new Word, that made a strange 
 Appearance at first to the Reader's Eye, is now 
 incorporated into the Tongue, and grown of a 
 Piece with the rest of the Language. And 
 as for any bold Expressions in a celebrated 
 Ancient, we are so far from disliking 'em, that 
 most Readers single out only such Passages as 
 are most daring to commend ; and take it for 
 granted, that the Stile is beautiftQ and elegant, 
 where they find it hard and unnatural. Thus 
 has Time mellowed the Works of Antiquity, by 
 qualifying, if I may so say, the Strength and 
 Rawness of their Colours, and casting into 
 Shades the Light that was at first too violent 
 and glaring for the Eye to behold with Pleasure. 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM. Written 
 BY Mr Pope in the year mdccix.^ 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAET I. 
 
 Introduction. That 'tis as great a fault to judge 
 ill as to write ill, and a raore dangeroiis one to the 
 public, V. 1. That a true Taste is as rare to be found, 
 as a true Genius, v. 9 to 18. That rnost men are 
 born with some Taste, but spoil'd by false Education, 
 V. 19 to 25. The multitude of Critics, and causes of 
 them, V. 26 to 45. That we are to study our own 
 Taste, and know the Limits of it, v. 46 to 67. Nature 
 the best guide of judgment, x. 68 to 87. Improved by 
 Art and Rules, tvhich are but methodis'd Nature, 
 V. 88. Rules derived from the Practice of the Ancient 
 Poets, V. 88 to 110. That therefore the Ancients are 
 necessary to be study'd by a Critic, particularly Homer 
 and Virgil, v. 120 to 138. Of Licenses, and the use 
 of them by the Ancients, v. 140 to 180. Reverence 
 due to the Ancients, and praise of theyyi, v. 181, <fec. 
 
 ^ ' Si quid novisti rectius istis, 
 
 Candidus imperii ; si non, his utere, mecum.' 
 
 — Horat. 
 London : Printed for W, Lewis, in Russel- Street, Covent 
 Garden, &c., 1711. Lewis was a co-religionist, and an 
 old school-fellow of Pope's. 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 125 
 
 PART II. Ver. 203, &c. 
 
 Causes hindering a true Judgment. (1.) Pride, 
 V. 208. (2.) Imperfect learning, v. 215. (3.) Judging 
 by parts, and not by the whole, v. 233 to 288. Critics 
 in Wit, Language, Versification, only, v. 288, 305, 
 339, &c. (4.) Being too hard to please, or too apt to 
 admire, v. 384. (5.) Partiality— too much love to a 
 Sect — to the Ancients or Moderns, v. 324. (6.) Pre- 
 judice or Prevention, v. 408. (7.) Singularity, v. 
 424. (8.) Inconstancy, v. 430. (9.) Party, v. 452, 
 &c. (10.) Envy, v. 466. Against Envy and in praise 
 of Good nature, v. 508, &c. When Severity is chiefly 
 to be used by Critics, v. 576. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 Rules for the Conduct arid Manners in a Critic, 
 (1.) Candour, v. 563. Modesty, v. 566. Good 
 breeding, v. 572. Sincerity and freedom of advice, 
 V. 578. (2.) Whe7i one's Counsel is to be restrained, 
 V. 584. Character of an incorrigible Poet, v. 600. 
 And of an impertinent Critic, v. 610, <fec. Character 
 of a good Critic, v. 629. The History of Criticism, 
 and Characters of the best Critics, Aristotle, v. 645. 
 Horace, v. 653. Dionysius, v. 665. Petronius, v. 
 667. Quintilian, v. 670. Longinus, v. 675. Of the 
 Decay of Criticism, and its Revival; Erasmus, v. 
 693. Vida, v. 705. Boileau, v. 714. Lord Ros- 
 common, &c., V. 725. Conclusion. 
 
 'Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill 
 Appear in writing or in judging ill ; 
 But of the two, less dang'rous is th' offence 
 To tire our patience, than mislead our sense. 
 Some few in that, but numbers err in this, 
 
126 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 
 
 Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss ; 
 A fool might once himself alone expose, 
 Now one in verse makes many more in prose.^ 
 
 'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none 
 Go just alike, yet each believes his own. 10 
 In Poets as true genius is but rare, 
 True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share ; 
 Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light, 
 These born to judge, as well as those to write. 
 Let such teach others who themselves excel. 
 And censure freely who have written welL- 
 Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true, 
 But are not Critics to their judgment too ? 
 
 Yet if we look more closely, we shall find 
 Most have the seeds of judgment in their 
 
 mind : 20 
 
 Nature affords at least a gUmm'ring hght ; 
 The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn 
 
 right. 
 But as the slightest sketch, if justly trac'd, ^ 
 Is by ill-colouring but the more disgrac'd, V 
 So by false learning is good sense defac'd : ^ J 
 
 1 Cf. Dryden's Epilogue to All for Love: 
 ' This difference grows 
 Betwixt our fools in verse, and yours in prose.' 
 
 — Elvnn. 
 '^ ' Qui scribit artificiose, ab aliis commode scripta facile 
 intelligere proterit. — Cicero, ad Herenn., lib. 4. [Pope.] 
 ■' ' Plus sine doctrina prudentia, quam sine prudentia 
 valet doetrina.' Quin. — Pope. 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 127 
 
 Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools, 
 And some made coxcombs Nature meant but 
 
 fools. 
 In search of wit these lose their common sense, 
 And then turn Critics in their own defence : 
 Each burns aUke, who can, or cannot write, 30 
 Or with a Rival's, or an Eunuch's spite. 
 All fools have still an itching to deride. 
 And fain would be upon the laughing side. 
 If Masvius scribble in Apollo's spight,^ 
 There are, who judge still worse than he can 
 
 write. 
 Some have at first for Wits, then Poets past. 
 Turned Critics next, and proved plain Fools at 
 
 last. 
 Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass, 
 As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass. 
 Those half-leam'd witlings, num'rous in our 
 
 isle, 40 
 
 As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile ; 
 Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call, 
 Their generation's so equivocal ; 
 To tell 'em, would a hundred tongues require, 
 Or one vain wit's, that might a hundred tire.^ 
 But you who seek to give and merit fame, 
 
 ^ Gf. Dryden's Persius, Sat. i. 100 : 
 
 ' Who would be poets in Apollo's spite. ' 
 ^ Gf. Dryden's Persius, i. 36. 
 
128 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 
 
 And justly bear a Critic's noble name, 
 Be sure yourself and your own reach to know, 
 How far your genius, taste, and learning go ; ^ 
 Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet. 
 And mark that point where sense and dulness 
 meet. 51 
 
 Nature to all things fix'd the limits fit, 
 And wisely curbed proud man's pretending wit. 
 As on the land while here the ocean gains, 
 In other parts it leaves wide sandy plains ; 
 Thus in the soul while memory prevails, 
 The solid pow'r of understanding fails ; 
 Wliere beams of warm imagination play. 
 The memory's soft figures melt away. 
 One science only v>^ill one genius fit ; 60 
 
 So vast is art, so narrow human wit : 
 Not only bounded to peculiar arts. 
 But oft, in those confin'd to single parts. 
 Like Kings we lose the conquests gain'd before, 
 By vain ambition still to make them more : 
 Each might his sev'ral province well command, 
 Would all but stoop to what they understand. 
 
 First follow Nature, and your judgment frame 
 By her just standard, which is still the same : 
 Unerring Nature, still divinely bright, 70 
 
 One clear, unchang'd, and universal Ught, 
 
 1 Cf. Horace, Ars. Poet., 38 : 
 
 ' Sumite materiam vestris, qui scribitis,' etc' 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 129 
 
 Life, force, and beauty, must to all impart. 
 At once the source, and end, and test of Art. 
 Art from that fund each just supply provides ; 
 Works without show, and without pomp pre- 
 sides : 
 In some fair body thus th' informing soul 
 With spirits feeds, with vigour fills the whole, ^ 
 Each motion guides, and ev'ry nerve sustains ; 
 Itself unseen, but in th' effects remains. 
 Some, to whom Heav'n in wit has been profuse. 
 Want as much more, to turn it to its use ; ^ 81 
 For wit and judgment often are at strife, 
 Tho' meant each other's aid, like man and wife. 
 'Tis more to guide, than spur the Muse's steed ; 
 Restrain his fury, than provoke his speed ; 
 The winged courser, like a gen'rous horse. 
 Shows most true mettle when you check his 
 course. 
 
 Those Rules of old discover'd, not devis'd. 
 Are Nature still, but Nature methodiz'd ; 
 Nature, Hke Liberty, is but restrain'd 90 
 
 By the same Laws which first herself ordain'd. 
 
 Hear how learn'd Greece her useful rules 
 indites, 
 
 1 Gf. Dryden's Virgil, ^n., vi. 982. 
 
 2 Originally this couplet read : 
 
 ' There are whom Heav'n has blest with store of wit, 
 Yet want as much again to manage it.' 
 
130 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 
 
 When to repress, and when indulge our flights : 
 High on Parnassus' top her sons she show'd, 
 And pointed out those arduous paths they trod ; 
 Held from afar, aloft, th' immortal prize, 
 And urg'd the rest by equal steps to rise. 
 Just precepts thus from great examples giv'n,^ 
 She drew from them what they derived from 
 
 Heav'n. 
 The gen'rous Critic fanned the poet's fire, 100 
 And taught the world with Reason to admire. 
 Then Criticism the Muse's handmaid prov'd, 
 To dress her charms, and make her more be- 
 
 lov'd : 
 But following wits from that intention stray'd. 
 Who could not win the mistress, wooed the 
 
 maid; 
 Against the poets their own arms they turn'd. 
 Sure to hate most the men fi'om whom they 
 
 learn'd. 
 So modern 'Pothecaries, taught the art 
 By Doctor's bills "^ to play the Doctor's part. 
 Bold in the practice of mistaken rules, 110 
 
 Prescribe, apply, and call their masters fools. 
 Some on the leaves of ancient authors prey, 
 
 ^ ' Nee enim artibus editis factum est ut argumenta in- 
 veniremus, sed dicta sunt omnia antequam prjeciperentur ; 
 niox ea scriptores observata et collecta ediderunt.' Quin. 
 — Pope. 
 
 2 Doctor's Prescriptions used to be called 'bills.' 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 131 
 
 Nor time nor moths e'er spoil'd so much as they : 
 Some drily plain, without invention's aid, 
 Write dull receipts how poems may be made. 
 These leave the sense, their learning to display, 
 And those explain the meaning quite away. 
 You then whose judgment the right course 
 would steer. 
 Know well each ancient's proper character ; 
 His Fable, Subject, scope in ev'ry page ; 120 
 Religion, Country, genius of his Age : 
 Without all these at once before your eyes. 
 Cavil you may, but never criticize.^ 
 Be Homer's works your study and dehght. 
 Read them by day, and meditate by night : ^ 
 Thence from your judgment, thence your maxims 
 
 bring. 
 And trace the Muses upward to their spring. 
 Still with itself compar'd, his text peruse ; 
 And let your comment be the Mantuan Muse. 
 
 ^ The author after this verse originally inserted the 
 following, which he has, however, omitted in all the 
 editions : — 
 
 Zoilus, had these been known without a name, 
 Had died, and Perault ne'er been damned to fame ; 
 The sense of sound antiquity had reigned. 
 And sacred Homer yet been unprofaned. 
 None e'er had thought his comprehensive mind 
 To modern customs, modern rules confined ; 
 Who for all ages writ, and all mankind. — Pope. 
 2 Horace, Ars. Poet., 368 : 
 
 ' Nocturne versate manu, versate diurna.' 
 
132 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 
 
 When first young Maro in his boundless 
 mind ^ 130 
 
 A work t' outlast immortal Rome design'd, 
 Perhaps he seem'd above the Critic's law, 
 And but from Nature's fountains scorn'd to 
 
 draw; 
 But when t' examine ev'ry part he came, 
 Nature and Homer were, he found, the same. 
 Convinc'd, amaz'd, he checks the bold design ;) 
 And rules as strict his labour'd work confine, /• 
 As if the Stagirite ^ o'erlooked each line. ) 
 
 Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem; 
 To copy nature is to copy them. 140 
 
 Some beauties yet no Precepts can declare, 
 For there's a happiness as well as care. 
 Music resembles Poetry, in each ^ 
 
 If, where the rules not far enough extend,^ 
 (Since rules were made but to promote their end) 
 
 Are nameless graces which no methods teach. 
 And which a master hand alone can reach. 
 
 ^ Virgil, Eclog., vi. 3 : 
 
 ' Cum canerem reges et pra?lia, Cynthius aurem 
 Vellit.' 
 
 It is a tradition preserved by Servius, that Virgil began 
 with writing a poem of the Alban and Roman aflfairs ; 
 which he found above his years, and descended first to 
 imitate Theocritus on rural subjects, and afterwards to 
 copy Homer in heroic poetry. — Pope. 
 
 " Aristotle, b. at Stagyra B.C. 384. 
 
 3 Quintilian, lib. iii. c. 13. [Pope], 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 133 
 
 Some lucky License answer to the full 
 Th' intent propos'd, that License is a rule. 
 Thus Pegasus, a nearer way to take, 150 
 
 May boldly deviate from the common track ; 
 From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, 
 And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art, 
 Which, without passing thro' the judgment, 
 
 gains 
 The heart, and all its end at once attains. 
 In prospects thus, some objects please our] 
 
 eyes, 
 Which out of nature's common order rise, 
 The shapeless rock, or hanging precipice.^ 
 Great Wits sometimes may gloriously offend, 
 And rise to faults true Critics dare not mend. 160 
 But tho' the Ancients thus their rules invade, 
 (As kings dispense with laws themselves have 
 
 made) 
 Moderns, beware ! or if you must offend 
 Against the precept, ne'er transgress its end ; 
 Let it be seldom, and compeU'd by need ; 
 And have, at least, their precedent to plead. 
 The Critic else proceeds, without remorse. 
 Seizes your fame, and puts his laws in force. 
 
 ^ ' This allusion is perhaps inaccurate. The shapeless 
 rock and hanging precipice do not rise out of nature's 
 common order, &c. '■ — Bowles. [This was one of the critical 
 notes to Pope, contributed by Bowles, which led after- 
 wards to so much pamphlet warfare]. 
 
134 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 
 
 I know there are, to whose presumptuous 
 thoughts 169 
 
 Those freer beauties, ev'n in them, seem faults. 
 Some figures monstrous and mis-shap'd appear, 
 Consider'd singly, or beheld too near, 
 Which, but proportion'd to their light, or place, 
 Due distance reconciles to form and grace. ^ 
 A prudent chief not always must display 
 His pow'rs in equal ranks, and fair array. 
 But with th' occasion and the place comply. 
 Conceal his force, nay seem sometimes to fly. 
 Those oft are stratagems which errors seem. 
 Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.'- 180 
 Still green with bays each ancient Altar 
 stands, 
 Above the reach of sacrilegious hands ; 
 Secure from Flames, from Envy's fiercer rage, 
 Destructive War, and aU-invohing Age. 
 See from each clime the learn'd their incense 
 
 bring ! 
 Hear, in all tongues consenting Pa3ans ring ! 
 In praise so just let ev'ry voice be join'd, 
 And fill the gen'ral chorus of mankind. 
 
 1 Gf. Horace, Ar». Poetica, 1. 361, 
 
 - ' Modeste, et circumspecto judicio de tantis viris pro- 
 nunciandum est, ne (quod plerisque accidit) damnent 
 quod non intelligunt. Ac si necesse et in alteram errare 
 partem, omnia eorum legentibus placere, quam multa dis- 
 plicere nialuerim.' Quin. — Pope. 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 135 
 
 Hail, Bards triumphant ! born in happier days ; ^ 
 Immortal heirs of universal praise ! 190 
 
 Whose honours with increase of ages grow, 
 As streams roll down, enlarging as they flow ; 
 Nations unborn your mighty names shall sound, 
 And worlds applaud that must not yet be 
 
 found ! 
 O may some spark of your celestial fire, 
 The last, the meanest of your sons inspire, 
 (That on weak wings, from far, pursues your 
 
 flights ; 
 Glows while he reads, but trembles as he writes) 
 To teach vain wits a science little known, 199 
 T' admire superior sense, and doubt their own ! 
 
 Of all the Causes which conspire to blind 
 Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind, 
 What the weak head with strongest bias rules. 
 Is Pride, the nev'r-failing vice of fools. 
 Whatever Nature has in worth deny'd. 
 She gives in large recruits of needful Pride ; 
 For as in bodies, so in souls, we find 
 What wants in blood and spirits, swell'd with 
 
 wind : 
 Pride, where Wit fails, steps in to our defence. 
 And fills up all the mighty Void of sense. 210 
 If once right reason drives that cloud away, 
 Truth breaks upon us with resistless day. 
 
 1 C/". Virgil, Aen.,vi. 649. 
 
136 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 
 
 Trust not yourself; but your defects to know, 
 Make use of ev'ry friend — and ev'ry foe. 
 A little learning is a dang'rous thing ; 
 Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring : 
 There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, 
 And drinking largely sobers us again. 
 Fir'd at first sight with what the Muse imparts, 
 In fearless youth we tempt the heights of 
 
 Arts, 220 
 
 While from the bounded level of our mind, 
 Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind ; 
 But more advanc'd, behold with strange surprize 
 New distant scenes of endless science rise ! 
 So pleased at first the tow'ring Alps we try. 
 Mount o'er the vales, and seem to tread the sky, 
 Th' eternal snows appear already past, 
 And the first clouds and mountains seem the 
 
 last: 
 But, those attain'd, M^e tremble to survey 
 The growing labours of the lengthen'd way, 230 
 Th' increasing prospect tires om" wand'riug eyes. 
 Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise ! ^ 
 A perfect Judge will read each work of Wit- 
 
 1 Johnson declared this to be ' (perhaps) the best simile 
 in the language. ' 
 
 '^ ' Diligenter legendum est ac pa?ne ad scribendi soUici- 
 tudinem : nee per partes niodo scrutanda sunt omnia, sed 
 perlectus liber utique ex integro resumendus.' Quin. — 
 Pope. 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 137 
 
 With the same spirit that its author writ : 
 Survey the Whole, nor seek slight faults to 
 
 find 
 Where nature moves, and rapture warms the 
 
 mind; 
 Nor lose, for that mahgnant dull dehght, 
 The gen'rous pleasure to be charmed with 
 
 wit. 
 But in such lays as neither ebb, nor flow,^ 
 Correctly cold, and regularly low, 240 
 
 That shunning faults, one quiet tenor keep ; 
 
 We cannot blame indeed but we may sleep. 
 
 In Wit, as Nature, what affects our hearts 
 
 Is not th' exactness of peculiar parts ; 
 
 'Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call. 
 
 But the joint force and full result of all. 
 
 Thus when we view some well-proportioned 
 
 dome, 
 (The world's just wonder, and ev'n thine, O 
 
 Rome !) 
 No single parts unequally surprize. 
 All comes united to th' admiring eyes ; 250 
 
 No monstrous height, or breadth, or length 
 
 appear ; 
 The Whole at once is bold, and regular. 
 Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, 
 
 1 ' A frozen style that neither ebbs nor flows. '—2>ri/den. 
 II. I 
 
138 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 
 
 Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be.^ 
 In ev'ry work regard the writer's End, 
 Since none can compass more than they intend ; 
 And if the means be just, the conduct true, 
 Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due.^ 
 As men of breeding, sometimes men of wit, 
 T' avoid great errors, must the less commit : 260 
 Neglect the rules each verbal Critic lays, 
 For not to know some trifles, is a praise. 
 Most Critics, fond of some subservient art. 
 Still make the Whole depend upon a Part : 
 They talk of principles, but notions prize. 
 And aU to one lov'd Folly sacrifice. 
 
 Once on a time. La Mancha's Knight,^ they 
 say, 
 A certain Bard encount'ring on the way, 
 Discours'd in terms as just, with looks as sage. 
 As e'er could Dennis, of the Grecian stage ; 2/0 
 Concluding all were desp'rate sots and fools. 
 Who durst depart from Aristotle's rules. 
 Our Author, happy in a judge so nice, 
 
 ^ Dryden's Ovid's Metavi., b. xv. ; 
 
 ' Greater than whate'er was, or is, or e'er shall be.' 
 
 —[Holt White.'] 
 2 V. Horace, Ars Poet., 351. 
 
 ^ This incident is taken from an added second-part of 
 Don Quixote, written by Don Alonzo Fernandez de 
 Avellanada, and translated, or rather imitated by Le 
 Sage. 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 139 
 
 Produc'd his play, and begg'd the Knight's 
 
 advice ; 
 Made him observe the subject, and the plot, 
 The manners, passions, unities ; what not ? 
 All which, exact to rule, were brought about. 
 Were but a combat in the hsts left out. 
 ' What ! leave the Combat out ? ' exclaims the 
 
 Knight ; 
 Yes, or we must renounce the Stagirite. 280 
 ' Not so by Heav'n ' (he answers in a rage) 
 'Knights, squires, and steeds, must enter on 
 
 the stage.' 
 So vast a throng the stage can ne'er contain. 
 ' Then build a new, or act it in a plain.' 
 
 Thus Critics, of less judgment than caprice, 
 Curious not knowing,^ not exact but nice. 
 Form short Ideas ; and offend in arts, 
 (As most in manners) by a love to parts. 
 
 Some to Conceit alone their taste confine, 
 And glitt'ring thoughts struck out at ev'ry 
 
 line; 290 
 
 Pleas'd with a work where nothing's just or fit; 
 One glaring Chaos and wild heap of wit. 
 Poets hke painters, thus unskill'd to trace 
 The naked nature and the Hving grace. 
 With gold and jewels cover ev'ry part, 
 
 ^ ' . . . non doctus, sed curiosus.' Petronius. [Pope's 
 MS. note.] 
 
140 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 
 
 And hide with ornaments their want of art. 
 True Wit is Nature to advantage dress'd/ 
 What oft was thought, but ne'er so well ex- 
 
 press'd ; 
 Something, whose truth convinc'd at sight we 
 
 find, 
 That gives us back the image of our mind, 300 
 As shades more sweetly recommend the hght, 
 So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit. 
 For works may have more wit than does 'em 
 
 good, 
 As bodies perish thro' excess of blood. 
 
 Others for Language aU their care express. 
 And value books, as women men, for Dress : 
 Their Praise is still, — the Style is excellent : 
 The Sense, they humbly take upon content. 
 Words are like leaves ; and where they most 
 
 abound, 
 Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found. 310 
 False eloquence, like the prismatic glass. 
 Its gaudy colours spreads on ev'ry place ; 
 The face of Natm-e we no more survey, 
 All glares aUke, without distinction gay : 
 But true Expression, like tli' unchanging Sun, 
 Clears, and improves whate'er it shines upon, 
 
 ^ Naturam intueamur, banc sequamur : id facillime 
 accipiunt animi quod agnoscunt. Quiii. lib. 8. ch. 3. — 
 Pope. 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 141 
 
 It gilds all objects, but it alters none. 
 
 Expression is the dress of thought/ and still 
 
 Appears more decent, as more suitable ; 
 
 A vile conceit in pompous words express'd, 320 
 
 Is like a clown in regal purple dress'd : 
 
 For diff' rent styles with dilF'rent subjects sort, 
 
 As sev'ral garbs with country, town and court. 
 
 Some by old words to fame have made pretence.^ 
 
 Ancients in phrase, mere moderns in their sense ; 
 
 Such labour 'd nothings, in so strange a style. 
 
 Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned smile. 
 
 Unlucky, as Fungoso in the Play,^ 
 
 These sparks with aukward vanity display 
 
 What the fine gentleman wore yesterday ; 330 
 
 And but so mimic ancient wits at best. 
 
 As apes our grandsires, in their doublets drest. 
 
 In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold ; 
 
 AUke fantastic, if too new or old : 
 
 Be not the first by whom the new are try'd, 
 
 ^ ' Expressions are a modest clothing for our thoughts. ' 
 Dryden : Preface to ' All for Love.' 
 
 ^ Abolita et abrogata retinere, insolentise cujusdam est, 
 et frivolae in parvis jactantise. Quint, lib. i. c. 6. ' Opus 
 est, ut verba k vetustate repetita neque crebra sint, neque 
 manifesta, quia nil est odiosius affectatione, nee utique ab 
 ultimis repetita temporibus. Oratio cujus summa virtus 
 est perspicuitas, quam sit vitiosa, se egeat interprete ? 
 Ergo ut novorum optima erunt maxime vetera ita veterum 
 maxime nova.' Idem. — Pope. 
 
 3 See Ben Jonson's ' Every Man out of his Humour.' — 
 Pope. 
 
142 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 
 
 Nor yet the last to lay the old aside. 
 
 But most by Numbers judge a poet's song ;i 
 And smooth or rough, with them, is right or 
 
 wrong : 
 In the bright Muse tho' thousand charms con- 
 spire, 
 Her Voice is all these tuneful fooLs admire ; 340 
 Who haunt Parnassus but to please the ear, 
 Not mend their minds; as some to Church 
 
 repair, 
 Not for the doctrine, but the music there. 
 These equal syllables alone require. 
 Though oft the ear the open vowels tire ; ^ 
 While expletives their feeble aid do join ; 
 And ten low words oft creep in one dull line : 
 While they ring round the same imvary'd chimes, 
 With sure returns of still expected rhymes ; 350 
 Where'er you find " the cooUng western breeze," 
 In the next line, it " whispers thro' the trees ; " 
 If crystal streams " vnth pleasing murmurs 
 creep," 
 
 1 ' Quia populi aermo eat ? quia enim ? niai carmine 
 
 moUi 
 Nunc deinum numero fluere, ut per Ixve aeveroa 
 Effundat junctura ungues : acit tendere veraum 
 Non aecua ac si oculo rubricam dirigat uno." — Pers. 
 
 Sat, i. — Pope. 
 
 2 Fugiemus crebras vocalium concursiones, quaj vastam 
 atque hiantem orationem reddunt. Cic. ad Heren. lib. 4. 
 Vide etiam Quint, lib. 9, c. 4. — Pope. 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 143 
 
 The reader's threat'n'd (not in vain) with 
 
 ' sleep : ' 
 Then, at the last and only couplet fraught 
 With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, 
 A needless Alexandrine ends the song 
 That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow 
 
 length along. 1 
 Leave such to tune their own dull rhimes, and 
 
 know 
 What's roundly smooth or languishingly slow ; 
 And praise the easy vigour of a line, 360 
 
 Where Denham's ^ strength, and Waller's sweet- 
 ness join. 
 True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, 
 As those move easiest who have learn'd to 
 
 dance. 
 'Tis not enough no harshness give offence, 
 The sound must seem an Echo to the sense. 
 Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows. 
 And the smooth stream in smoother numbers 
 
 flows ; 
 But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, 
 The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent 
 
 roar. 
 When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to 
 
 throw, 370 
 
 ^ Cf. Dryden's Annus Mirabilis, 123. 
 2 Sir John Denham, author of 'Cooper's Hill' (1615- 
 1668). 
 
144 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 
 
 The line too labours, and the words move slow : 
 Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, 
 Flics o'er tli' unbending corn, and skims along 
 
 the main. 
 Hear how Timotheus' vary'd lays surprize,^ 
 And bid alternate passions fall and rise ! 
 While, at each change, the son of Libyan Jove 
 Now burns with glory, and then melts with 
 
 love ; 
 Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow, 
 Now sighs steal out, and tears begin to flow : 379 
 Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found. 
 And the world's victor stood subdued by Sound ! 
 The pow'r of Music all our hearts allow, 
 And what Timotheus was, is Deyden now. 
 
 Avoid Extremes ; and shun the fault of such, 
 Wlio still are pleas'd too little or too much. 
 At ev'ry trifle scorn to take off'ence, 
 That always shews great pride, or little sense ; 
 Those heads, as stomachs, are not sure the best, 
 Which nauseate aU, and nothing can digest. 
 Yet let not each gay Turn thy raptiu-e move ; 390 
 For fools admire, but men of sense approve : - 
 As things seem large which we thro' mists 
 
 descry, 
 
 1 See ' Alexander's Feast, or the Power of Music ; ' an 
 Ode by Mr Dryden. — Pope. 
 
 2 Cf. Horace, Ars Poet., 365. 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 145 
 
 Dulness is ever apt to magnify. 
 
 Some foreign writers, some our own despise ; 
 The Ancients only, or the Moderns prize ; 
 Thus Wit, like Faith, by each man is apply'd 
 To one small sect, and all are damn'd beside. 
 Meanly they seek the blessing to confine. 
 And force that sun but on a part to shine. 
 Which not alone the southern wit sublimes, 400 
 But ripens spirits in cold northern climes ; 
 Which from the first has shone on ages past, 
 Enlights the present, and shall warm the last ; 
 Tho' each may feel encreases and decays. 
 And see now clearer and now darker days. 
 Regard not then if Wit be old or new. 
 But blame the false, and value still the true. 
 
 Some ne'er advance a Judgment of their own. 
 But catch the spreading notion of the Town : 
 They reason and conclude by precedent, 410 
 And own stale nonsense which they ne'er invent. 
 Some judge of author's name, not works, and 
 
 then 
 Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men. 
 Of all this servile herd, the worst is he 
 That in proud dulness joins with Quality. 
 A constant Critic at the great man's board. 
 To fetch and carry nonsense for my Lord. 
 What woful stuff this madrigal would be. 
 In some starved hackney sonneteer, or me ? 
 
146 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 
 
 But let a Lord once own the happy lines/ 420 
 How the wit brightens ! how the style refines ! 
 Before his sacred name flies ev'ry fault, 
 And each exalted stanza teems with thought ! 
 
 The Vulgar thus thro' Imitation err ; 
 As oft the Lcarn'd by being singular ; 
 So much they scorn the croud, that if the throng 
 By chance go right, they purposely go wrong : 
 So Schismatics the plain believers quit. 
 And are but damn'd for having too much wit. 
 Some praise at morning what they blame at 
 
 night ; 430 
 
 But always think the last opinion right. 
 A Muse by these is Uke a mistress us'd, 
 This hour she's idoHz'd, the next abus'd ; 
 Wliile their weak heads Like to^vns unfortify'd, 
 'Twixt sense and nonsense daily change their 
 
 side. 
 Ask them the cause ; they're wiser still, they 
 
 say; 
 And still to-morrow's mser than to-day. 
 We think our fathers fools, so wise we grow ; 
 Our wiser sons, no doubt, will think us so. 
 Once School-di\'ines this zealous isle o'er- 
 
 sprcad ; 440 
 
 ^ ' You ought not to write verses,' said George II., 
 who had little taste, to Lord Hervey, ' 'tis beneath your 
 rank. Leave such work to little Mr Pope, it is his trade ! ' 
 — [ Wart07i. J 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 147 
 
 Who knew most Sentences was deepest read/ 
 Faith, Gospel all, seem'd made to be disputed. 
 And none had sense enough to be confuted : 
 Scotists and Thomists, now, in peace remain ; ^ 
 Amidst their kindred cobwebs in Duck-lane.^ 
 If Faith itself has diff'rent dresses worn, 
 What wonder modes in Wit should take their 
 
 turn ? 
 Oft, leaving what is natural and fit, 
 The current folly proves the ready wit ; 
 And authors think their reputation safe, 450 
 Which lives as long as fools are pleas'd to laugh. 
 Some valuing those of their own side or mind, 
 Still make themselves the measure of mankind : 
 Fondly we think we honour merit then. 
 When we but praise ourselves in other men. 
 Parties in Wit attend on those of State, 
 And public faction doubles private hate. 
 Pride, MaHce, Folly, against Dryden rose. 
 In various shapes of Parsons, Critics, Beaus ; * 
 
 ^ The ' Book of Sentences ' was a subtle disquisition on 
 theology, written by Peter Lombard, and commentated 
 by Thomas Aquinas. 
 
 2 The Scotists were the disciples of Johannes Duns Sco- 
 tus, the typical schoolman of the middle ages. 
 
 ^ A place where old and second-hand books were sold 
 formerly, near Smithfield. — Pope. 
 
 ^ The parson alluded to was Jeremy Collier, and the 
 Duke of Buckingham was the critic. 
 
148 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 
 
 But sense surviv'd, when merry jests were 
 past ; 460 
 
 For rising merit will buoy up at last. 
 Might he return, and bless once more our eyes, 
 NewBlackmores^ and new Milboums must arise: 
 Nay shonld great Homer lift his awful head, 
 Zoilus ^ again would start up from the dead. 
 Envy will merit, as its shade, pursue ; 
 But like a shadow, proves the substance true : 
 For envy'd Wit, like Sol echps'd, makes known 
 Th' opposing body's grossness, not its own. 
 When first that sun too pow'rful beams dis- 
 plays, 470 
 It draws up vapours which obscure its rays ; 
 But ev'n those clouds at last adorn its way. 
 Reflect new glories and augment the day. 
 Be thou the first true merit to befiiend ; 
 His praise is lost, who stays 'tiU aU commend. 
 Short is the date, alas, of modern rhymes. 
 And 'tis but just to let them live betimes. 
 No longer now that golden age appears, 
 
 ^ Blackmore attacked Drj'den in his ' Satire against 
 Wit,' 1700. Milbourn, a clergyman, wrote ' Notes to 
 Dryden's Virgil,' 1698, a foolish and vindictive satire. 
 
 " Zoilus was the critic on Homer. In the fifth book of 
 Vitruvius is an account of Zoilus coming to the Court of 
 Ptolemy at Alexandria, and presenting to him his viru- 
 lent and brutal censures of Homer, and begging to be 
 rewarded for his work. The King, it is said, 'ordered him 
 to be crucified, or, as some say, stoned.' — Warton. 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 149 
 
 When Patriarch-wits surviv'd a thousand years : 
 Now length of Fame (our second life) is lost, 480 
 And bare threescore is all ev'n that can boast ; 
 Our sons their father's faihng language see, 
 And such as Chaucer is, shall Dryden be. 
 So when the faithful pencil has design'd 
 Some bright Idea of the master's mind, 
 Where a new world leaps out at his command. 
 And ready Nature waits upon his hand ; 
 When the ripe colours soften and unite, 
 And sweetly melt into just shade and hght ; 
 When mellowing years their full perfection 
 give, 490 
 
 And each bold figure just begins to live. 
 The treach'rous colours the fair art betray, 
 And aU the bright creation fades away ! ^ 
 
 Unhappy Wit, Uke most mistaken things. 
 Atones not for that envy which it brings. 
 In youth alone its empty praise we boast. 
 But soon the short-liv'd vanity is lost : 
 Like some fair flow'r the early spring suppUes, 
 That gayly blooms, but ev'n in blooming dies. 
 What is this Wit, which must our cares employ ? 
 The owner's wife, that other men enjoy ; 500 
 Then most our trouble still when most admir'd. 
 And still the more we give, the more requir'd ; 
 
 1 ' And all the pleasing landscape fades away.' 
 
 — Addison. 
 
ISO AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 
 
 Whose fame with pains we guard, but lose with 
 
 ease, 
 Sure some to vex, but never all to please ; 
 'Tis what the vicious fear, the virtuous shun. 
 By fools 'tis hated, and by knaves undone ! 
 If Wit so much from Ign'rance undergo, 
 Ah, let not learning too commence its foe ! 
 Of old, those met rewards, who could excell, 510 
 And such were prais'd, who but endeavour'd 
 
 well;! 
 Tho' triumphs were to gen'rals only due. 
 Crowns were reserv'd to grace the soldiers too. 
 Now, they who reach Parnassus' lofty crown, 
 Employ their pains to spurn some others down ; 
 And while self-love each jealous writer rules, 
 Contending wits become the sport of fools : 
 But still the worst with most regret commend. 
 For each iU Author is as bad a Friend. 520 
 To what base ends, and by what abject ways. 
 Are mortals urg'd thro' sacred lust of praise ! ^ 
 Ah, ne'er so dire a thirst of glory boast, 
 Nor in the Critic let the man be lost. 
 Good-nature and good-sense must ever join : 
 To err is human, to forgive, divine. 
 
 ^ ' Be kind to wit, which but endeavours well, 
 And where j^ou judge, presumes not to excel.' 
 
 — Dryden. 
 ^ Virgil's ' Auri sacra fames.' — Pope. 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 151 
 
 But if in noble minds some dregs remain 
 Not yet purg'd off, of spleen and sour disdain ; 
 Discharge that rage on more provoking crimes, 
 Nor fear a dearth in these flagitious times. 
 No pardon vile Obscenity should find, 530 
 
 Tho' wit and art conspire to move your mind ; 
 But Dulness with Obscenity must prove 
 As shameful sure as impotence in love. 
 In the fat age of pleasure, wealth, and ease. 
 Sprung the rank weed, and thriv'd with large 
 
 increase : 
 When love was all an easy Monarch's care ; -^ 
 Seldom at council, never in a war : 
 Jilts rul'd the state, and statesmen farces writ ; ^ 
 Nay, wits had pensions, and young lords had Avit : 
 The Fair sate panting at a Courtier's play, 540 
 And not a Mask went unimprov'd away : ^ 
 The modest fan was hfted up no more. 
 And Virgins smil'd at what they blush'd before. 
 The following hcense of a Foreign reign 
 Did all the dregs of bold Socinus drain ; * 
 
 1 Charles II. 
 
 ^ He alludes to the Duke of Buckingham, who wrote 
 ' The Rehearsal. ' 
 
 ^ Ladies used at that time to wear masks at the play ; 
 probably on account of the immorality of the stage. 
 
 4 The reign of William III. The principles of the 
 Socinians are understood of course by 'Socinus.' War- 
 burton called some of the clergy of William's time Lati- 
 tudinarian divines. The author has omitted two lines 
 
152 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 
 
 Then unbelieving Priests reform'd the nation, 
 And taught more pleasant methods of salvation ; 
 Where Ileav'n's free subjects might their right 
 
 dispute, 
 Lest God himself should seem too absolute : 
 Pulpits their sacred satire learn'd to spare, 550 
 And Vice admired to find a flatt'rer there ! 
 Encourag'd thus, Wit's Titans brav'd the skies. 
 And the press groan'd with licens'd blasphemies. 
 These monsters. Critics ! with your darts engage, 
 Here point your thunder, and exhaust your rage ! 
 Yet shun their fault, who, scandalously nice. 
 Will needs mistake an author into vice ; 
 All seems infected that th' infected spy, 
 As all looks yellow to the jaundic'd eye, 
 
 Learn then what morals Critics ought to 
 
 show, 560 
 
 For 'tis but half a Judge's task, to know. 
 'Tis not enough, taste judgment, learning join; 
 In aU you speak, let truth and candour shine : 
 That not alone what to your sense is due 
 All may allow ; but seek your friendship too. 
 Be silent always when you doubt your sense; 
 
 which stood here, as containing a national reflection, 
 which in his stricter judgment he could not but dis- 
 approve on any people whatever. — Pope. 
 
 The cancelled couplet was : — 
 
 Then first the Belgian morals were extolled, 
 We their religion had, and tkey our gold. 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 153 
 
 And speak, tho' sure, with seeming diffidence : 
 Some positive, persisting fops we know, 
 Who if once wrong, will needs be always so ; 
 But you, with pleasure own your errors 
 past, 570 
 
 And make each day a Critique on the last. 
 
 'Tis not enough your counsel still be true ; 
 Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods 
 
 do ; 
 Men must be taught as if you taught them not, 
 And things unknown propos'd as things forgot. 
 Without Good-Breeding, truth is disapprov'd ; 
 That only makes superior sense belov'd. 
 
 Be niggards of advice on no pretence ; 
 For the worst avarice is that of sense. 
 With mean complacence ne'er betray your 
 trust, 580 
 
 Nor be so civil as to prove unjust. 
 Fear not the anger of the wise to raise ; 
 Those best can bear reproof, who merit praise. 
 
 'Twere well might Critics still this freedom 
 take. 
 But Appius reddens at each word you speak. 
 And stares, tremendous, with a threat'ning eye,^ 
 Like some fierce Tyrant in old tapestry. 
 
 1 This picture was taken to himself by John Dennis, a 
 furious old critic by profession, who, upon no other pro- 
 vocation, wrote against this essay and its author, in a 
 
 II. K 
 
154 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 
 
 Fear most to tax an Honourable fool, 
 Whose right it is, uncensur'd, to be dull ; 
 Such, without wit, are Poets when they 
 
 please, 590 
 
 As without learning they can take Degrees.^ 
 Leave dang'rous truths to unsuccessful Satires, 
 And flattery to fulsome Dedicators, 
 Whom, when they praise, the World beUeves 
 
 no more, 
 Than when they promise to give scribbling o'er. 
 Tis best sometimes your censure to restrain. 
 And charitably let the dull be vain : 
 Your silence there is better than your spite. 
 For wlio can rail so long as they can write ? 
 StiU humming on, their droiizy course they 
 
 keep, 600 
 
 And lash'd so long, like tops, are lash'd asleep. 
 False steps but help them to renew the race, 
 As, after stumbling. Jades will mend their pace. 
 What crouds of these, impertinently bold, 
 In sounds and jingHng syllables grown old, 
 Still run on Poets, in a raging vein, 
 
 manner perfectlj* lunatic : for, as to the mention made of 
 him in ver. '270, he took it as a compliment, and said it 
 was treacherously meant to cause him to overlook this 
 abuse of his person. — I'ope. 
 
 1 ' Noblemen and sons of noblemen are allowed to take 
 the degree of M. A. after keeping the terms for two years.' 
 [Wakefield.] The privilege is long abolished. 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 155 
 
 Ev'n to the dregs and squeezings of the brain, 
 Strain out the last dull droopings of their sense, 
 And rhyme with all the rage of Impotence. 
 Such shameless Bards we have ; and yet 'tis 
 
 true, 610 
 
 There are as mad, abandon'd Critics too. 
 The bookful blockhead, ignorantly read, 
 With loads of learned lumber in his head, 
 With his own tongue still edifies his ears, 
 And always list 'ning to himself appears. 
 AU books he reads, and all he reads assails. 
 From Dryden's Fables down to Durfey's Tales, 
 With him, most authors steal their works, or 
 
 buy; 
 Garth did not write his own Dispensary.^ 
 Name a new Play, and he's the Poet's 
 
 friend, 620 
 
 Nay, show'd his faults — but when would Poets 
 
 mend ? 
 No place so sacred from such fops is barr'd. 
 Nor is Paul's church more safe than Paul's 
 
 church-yard : 
 Nay, fly to Altars ; there they'll talk you dead ; 
 For Fools rush in where Angels fear to tread. 
 
 1 A common slander at that time in prejudice of that 
 deserving author. Our poet did him this justice, when 
 that slander most prevailed : and it is now (perhaps the 
 sooner for this very verse) dead and forgotten. — Pope. 
 
156 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 
 
 Distrustful sense with modest caution speaks,) 
 It still looks home, and short excursions makes; > 
 But rattling nonsense in full volleys breaks, ) 
 And never shock'd, and never tuni'd aside, 
 Bursts out, resistless, with a thund'ring tide. 630 
 
 But where's the man who counsel can bestow, 
 Still pleas'd to teach, and yet not proud to know? 
 Unbiass'd, or by favour, or by spite ; 
 Not dully prepossess'd, nor blindly right ; 
 Tho' learn'd, well-bred ; and tho' well-bred, 
 
 sincere ; 
 Modestly bold, and humanly severe : 
 Who to a friend his faults can freely show, 
 And gladly praise the merit of a foe ? 
 Blest with a taste exact, yet unconfin'd ; 
 A knowledge both of books and human 
 kind : 640 
 
 Gen'rous converse ; a soul exempt from pride ; 
 And love to praise, with reason on his side ? 
 
 Such once were Critics ; such the happy few, 
 Athens and Rome in better ages knew. 
 The mighty Stagirite first left the shore. 
 Spread all his sails, and durst the deeps explore: 
 He steer'd securely, and discover'd far, 
 Led by the Light of the Ma^onian Star. 
 Poets, a race long unconfin'd, and free, 
 Still fond and proud of savage hberty, 650 
 
 Receiv'd his laws ; and stood convinc'd 'twas fit, 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 157 
 
 Who conquer'd Nature,^ should preside o'er wit. 
 
 Horace still charms with graceful negligence, 
 And without method talks us into sense, 
 Will, like a friend, famiUarly convey 
 The truest notions in the easiest way. 
 He, who supreme in judgment, as in wit, 
 Might boldly censure, as he boldly writ. 
 Yet judg'd with coolness, tho' he sung with 
 
 fire ; 
 His Precepts teach but what his works 
 inspire. 660 
 
 Our Critics take a contrary extreme. 
 They judge with fiiry, but they write with 
 
 flegm : 
 Nor suffers Horace more in wrong Translations 
 By Wits, than Critics in as wrong Quotations. 
 
 See Dionysius,^ Homer's thoughts refine. 
 And call new beauties forth from every line ! 
 
 Fancy and art in gay Petronius please,^ 
 The scholar's learning, with the courtier's ease. 
 
 In grave Quintilian's copious work we find * 
 
 ^ When Aristotle wrote his history of animals, Alexander 
 ordered the creatures of the different countries he con- 
 quered should be sent to Aristotle for inspection. 
 
 ■^ Dionysius, of Halicarnassus. — Pope. 
 
 ^ Titus Petronius Arbiter, Poet and favourite of Nero. 
 Being suspected of a conspiracy against the tyrant, he 
 destroyed himself characteristically, A.D. 65. 
 
 ^ Quintilian (died at Rome a.d. 60.) v. his 'Institu- 
 tiones Oratoricse.' 
 
158 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 
 
 The justest rules, and clearest method 
 join'd : 670 
 
 Thus useful arms in magazines we place, 
 All rang'd in order, and dispos'd with grace, 
 But less to please the eye than arm the hand, 
 Still fit for use, and ready at command. 
 
 Thee, bold Longinus ! ^ aU the Nine inspire. 
 And bless their Critic with a Poet's fire. 
 An ardent Judge, who zealous in his trust, 
 With warmth gives sentence, yet is always just; 
 Whose own example strengthens aU his laws ; 
 And is himself that great Sublime he 
 draws. 680 
 
 Thus long succeeding Critics justly reigu'd 
 License repress'd, and useful laws ordain'd. 
 Learning and Rome ahke in empire grew ; 
 And arts still foUow'd where her Eagles flew ; 
 From the same foes, at last, both felt their doom, 
 And the same age saw Learning fall, and Rome.'^ 
 With Tyranny, then Supei-stition join'd, 
 As that the body, this enslav'd the mind ; 
 Much was believ'd, but httle imderstood, 
 And to be dull was constru'd to be good ; 690 
 A second deluge Learning thus o'er-run, 
 And the Monks finished what the Goths begun. 
 
 ^ Longinus, (died 273 a. D.) whose treatise on the Sublime 
 Pope refers to. 
 
 - Commonly then pronounced ' Room.' 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 159 
 
 At length Erasmus, that great injur'd name, 
 (The glory of the Priesthood, and the shame !) ? 
 Stem'd the wild torrent of a barb'rous age, 
 And drove those holy Vandals off the stage. 
 
 But see ! each Muse, in Leo's golden days,i 
 Starts from her trance, and trims her wither'd 
 
 bays, 
 Rome's ancient Genius, o'er its ruins spread, 
 Shakes oflf the dust, and rears his rev'rend head. 
 Then sculpture and her sister-arts revive : 701 
 Stones leap'd to form, and rocks began to live ; 
 With sweeter notes each rising Temple rung ; 
 A Raphael painted, and a Vida sung.^ 
 Immortal Vida : on whose honour'd brow 
 The Poet's bays and Critic's ivy grow : 
 Cremona now shall ever boast thy name, 
 As next in place to Mantua, next in fame ! 
 
 But soon by impious arms from Latium 
 chas'd, 709 
 
 Their ancient bounds the banish'd Muses pass'd ; 
 Thence Arts o'er all the northern world advance. 
 But Critic-learning flourish'd most in France ; 
 The rules a nation, born to serve, obeys ; 
 And Boileau stiU in right of Horace sways. 
 But we, brave Britons, foreign laws despis'd, 
 
 ^Leo X., son of Lorenzo de' Medici, born at Florence 
 1475, died 1521. 
 
 2 Vida [born at Cremona 1470. ] ' An excellent Latin poet,' 
 [Pope,] His works were the Ars Poetica, Christiad, &c. 
 
i6o AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 
 
 And kept unconquer'd and unciviliz'd ; 
 Fierce for the liberties of wit, and bold, 
 We still defy'd the Romans, as of old. 
 Yet some there were, among the sounder few 
 Of those who less presum'd, and better knew, 
 Who durst assert the juster ancient cause, 721 
 And here restor'd Wit's fundamental laws. 
 Such was the Muse, whose rules and practice 
 teU,i 
 
 ^ ' Essay on Poetry,' by the Duke of Buckixigham. Our 
 poet is not the only one of his time who complimented 
 this essay, and its noble author. Mr Dryden had done it 
 very largely in the dedication to his translation of the 
 ^neid : and Dr Garth in the first edition of his ' Dispen- 
 sary ' says, — 
 
 ' The Tiber now no courtly Gallus sees, 
 But smiling Thames enjoys his Normanbys ;' 
 
 though afterwards omitted, when parties were carried so 
 high in the reign of Queen Anne, as to allow no commen- 
 dation to an opposite in politics. The Duke was all his 
 life a steady adherent to the Church of England party, 
 yet an enemy to the extravagant measures of the court in 
 the reign of Charles II. On which account after having 
 strongly patronized Mr Dryden, a coolness succeeded 
 between them on that poet's absolute attachment to the 
 court, which carried him some lengths beyond what the 
 Duke could approve of. This nobleman's true character 
 had been very well marked by Mr Dryden before, 
 
 ' The muse's friend, 
 Himself a muse. In Sanadrin's debate 
 True to his prince, but not a slave of state.' — Abs. 
 and Achit. 
 Our author was more happy, he was honoured very young 
 with his friendship, and it continued till his death in all 
 the circumstances of a familiar esteem. — Pope. 
 
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM i6i 
 
 'Nature's chief Master-piece is writing well.' 
 Such was Roscommon/ not more learn'd than 
 
 good, 
 With manners gen'rous as his noble blood ; 
 To him the wit of Greece and Rome was known, 
 And ev'ry author's merit but his own. 
 Such late was Walsh ^ — the Muse's judge and 
 
 friend, 
 Wlio justly knew to blame or to commend ; 730 
 To faiUngs mild, but zealous for desert ; 
 The clearest head, and the sincerest heart. 
 This humble praise, lamented shade ! receive, 
 This praise at least a gi^ateful Muse may give : 
 The Muse, whose early voice you taught to sing, 
 Prescrib'dher heights, and prun'd her tender wing, 
 (Her guide now lost) no more attempts to rise. 
 But in low numbers short excursions tries : 
 Content, if hence th' unlearn'd their wants may 
 
 view, 739 
 
 The learn'd reflect on what before they knew : 
 Careless of Censure, nor too fond of fame ; 
 Still pleas'd to praise, yet not afraid to blame ; 
 Averse alike, to flatter or offend ; 
 Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.^ 
 
 1 Lord Roscommon, author of an ' Essay on Translated 
 Verse.' [1633-1684]. 
 
 2 Walsh [1663-1709], a very poor writer, but of service 
 to Pope ; praised by both Pope and Dryden. 
 
 * Gf. the last lines in Boileau's ' Art of Poetry.' 
 
IV 
 
 LETTER TO JOHN MURRAY, ESQ., ON 
 THE REV. W. L. BOWLES'S STRIC- 
 TURES ON THE LIFE AND WRIT- 
 INGS OF POPE. By Lord Byron.i 
 
 Ravenxa, Ftbrvxxry 7, 1821. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 In the different pamphlets - which you have 
 had the goodness to send me, on the Pope 
 and Bowles's ^ controversy, I perceive that my 
 name is occasionally introduced by both parties. 
 Mr Bowles refers more than once to what he 
 is pleased to consider 'a remarkable circum- 
 stance,' not only in liis letter to Mr Campbell, 
 
 ^ ' I'll play at Bowls with the sun and moon.' — Old 
 Song. 
 
 ' My mither's auld, Sir, and she has rather forgotten 
 hersel in speaking to my Leddy, that canna weel bide to 
 be contradickit (as I ken naebody likes it, if they could 
 help themsels).' — Tahs of My Landlord ; Old Mortality, 
 vol. ii. p. 163. 
 
 " Some seven appear in the pages of The Pamphleteer 
 alone. 
 
 ^ His much debated edition of Pope appeared some 
 fifteen years earlier. 
 
STRICTURES ON LIFE OF POPE 163 
 
 but in his reply to the Quarterly. The 
 Quarterly also, and Mr Gilchrist have con- 
 ferred on me the dangerous honour of a 
 quotation ; and Mr Bowles indirectly makes 
 a kind of appeal to me personally, by saying, 
 'Lord Byron, if he remembers the circum- 
 stance, will witness' — {witness in italic, an 
 ominous character for a testimony at present). 
 
 I shall not avail myself of a 'non mi 
 ricordo,' even after so long a residence in 
 Italy ; — I do ' remember the circumstance,' 
 — and have no reluctance to relate it (since 
 called upon so to do), as correctly as the 
 distance of time and the impression of inter- 
 vening events will permit me. In the year 
 1812, more than three years after the pubKca- 
 tion of English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, 
 I had the honour of meeting Mr Bowles, in 
 the house of our venerable host^ of Human 
 Life, etc. the last Argonaut of classic EngHsh 
 poetry, and the Nestor of our inferior race 
 of living poets. Mr Bowles calls this 'soon 
 after ' the publication ; ^ but to me three years 
 appear a considerable segment of the immor- 
 tality of a modern poem. I recollect nothing 
 
 1 Samuel Rogers, whose poem. Human Life, appeared 
 in 1819. 
 
 2 V. Bowles's Invariable Principles of Poetry (1819), 
 p. 33. 
 
1 64 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 of ' the rest of the company going into another 
 room,' — nor, though I well remember the topo- 
 grapliy of our host's elegant and classically- 
 furnished mansion, could I swear to the very 
 room where the conversation occurred, though 
 the ' taking down the poem ' seems to fix it 
 in the hbrary. Had it been Haken up,' it 
 would probably have been in the drawing- 
 room. I presume also that the 'remarkable 
 circumstance ' took place after dinner ; as I 
 conceive that neither Mr Bowles's poHteness 
 nor appetite would have allowed him to de- 
 tain ' the rest of the company ' standing 
 round their chairs in the 'other room,' while 
 we were discussing 'the woods of Madeira,' 
 instead of circulating its ^^ntage. Of Mr 
 Bowles's ' good humour ' I have a fuU and 
 not ungrateful recollection ; as also of his 
 gentlemanly manners and agreeable conversa- 
 tion. I speak of the whole, and not of par- 
 ticulars ; for whether he did or did not use 
 the precise words printed in the pamphlet, I 
 cannot say, nor could he with accuracy. Of 
 ' the tone of seriousness ' I certainly recol- 
 lect nothing : on the contmry, I thought Mr 
 Bowles rather disposed to treat the subject 
 hghtly ; for he said (I have no objection to 
 be contradicted, if incorrect) that some of his 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 165 
 
 good-natured friends had come to him and 
 exclaimed, 'Eh! Bowles! how came you to 
 make the woods of Madeira?' etc. etc. and 
 that he had been at some pains and pulling 
 down of the poem to convince them that he 
 had never made ' the woods ' do anything of 
 the kind. He was right, and / was wrong, 
 and have been wrong still up to this acknow- 
 ledgment; for I ought to have looked twice 
 before I wrote that which involved an in- 
 accuracy capable of giving pain. The fact 
 was, although I had certainly before read the 
 Spirit of Discovery,^ I took the quotation 
 from the review. But the mistake was mine, 
 and not the review's, which quoted the passage 
 correctly enough, I believe. I blundered — 
 God knows how — into attributing the tremors 
 of the lovers to 'the woods of Madeira,' ^ by 
 which they were surrounded. And I hereby 
 do fully and freely declare and asseverate, 
 that the woods did not tremble to a kiss, and 
 that the lovers did. I quote from memory — 
 ' A kiss 
 
 Stole on the listening silence, etc. etc. 
 
 They [the lovers] trembled, even as if the power,' 
 
 etc. 
 
 1 The Spirit of Discovery, a poem in blank verse by 
 Bowles, appeared in 1804. 
 
 2 ' Thy woods, Madeira, trembled to a kiss,' Ung. 
 Bards and S. Reviewers. 
 
1 66 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 And if I had been aware that this declaration 
 would have been in the smallest degree satis- 
 factory to Mr Bowles, I should not have 
 waited nine years to make it, notwithstand- 
 ing that English Bards and Scotch Reviewers 
 had been suppressed some time previously to 
 my meeting him at Mr Rogers's. Our worthy 
 host might indeed have told him as much, 
 as it was at his representation that I sup- 
 pressed it. A new edition of that lampoon 
 was preparing for the press, when Mr Rogers 
 represented to me, that ' I was now ac- 
 quainted with many of the persons mentioned 
 in it, and with some on terms of intmiacy ; ' 
 and that he knew ^one family in particular 
 to whom its suppression would give pleasure.' 
 I did not hesitate one moment, it was can- 
 celled instantly ; and it is no fault of mine 
 that it has ever been republished. Wlien I 
 left England, in April, 1816, vdt\\ no very 
 violent intentions of troubhng that country 
 again, and amidst scenes of various kinds to 
 distract my attention, — almost my last act, 
 I believe, was to sign a power of attorney, 
 to yourself, to prevent or suppress any attempts 
 (of which several had been made in Ireland) 
 at a republication. It is proper that I should 
 state, that the persons with whom I was 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 167 
 
 subsequently acquainted, whose names had 
 occurred in that pubHcation, were made my 
 acquaintances at their own desire, or through 
 the unsought intervention of others. I never, 
 to the best of my knowledge, sought a per- 
 sonal introduction to any. Some of them to 
 this day I know only by correspondence ; and 
 with one of those it was begun by myself, in 
 consequence, however, of a poUte verbal com- 
 munication from a third person. 
 
 I have dwelt for an instant on these circum- 
 stances, because it has sometimes been made 
 a subject of bitter reproach to me to have 
 endeavoured to suppress that satire. I never 
 shrunk, as those who know me know, from 
 any personal consequences which could be 
 attached to its publication. Of its subsequent 
 suppression, as I possessed the copyright, I 
 was the best judge and the sole master. The 
 circumstances which occasioned the suppres- 
 sion I have now stated ; of the motives, each 
 must judge according to his candour or 
 malignity. Mr Bowles does me the honour 
 to talk of ' noble mind,' and ' generous 
 magnanimity ; ' and all this because ' the 
 circumstance would have been explained had 
 not the book been suppressed.' I see no 
 ' nobility of mind ' in an act of simple justice ; 
 
i68 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 and I hate the word * magnanimity,' because 
 I have sometimes seen it apphed to the grossest 
 of impostors by the greatest of fools ; but I 
 would have * explained the circumstance,' 
 notwithstanding * the suppression of the book/ 
 if Mr Bowles had expressed any desire that I 
 should. As the ' gallant Galbraith ' says to 
 * Bailie Jarvie,' ^ * Well, the devil take the 
 mistake, and aU that occasioned it.' I have 
 had as great and greater mistakes made about 
 me personally and poetically, once a month 
 for these last ten years, and never cared very 
 much about correcting one or the other, at 
 least after the first eight-and-forty hours had 
 gone over them. 
 
 I must now, however, say a word or two 
 about Pope, of whom you have my opinion 
 more at large in the unpublished letter on or 
 to (for I forget which) the editor of Blackwood's 
 Edinburgh Magazine ; — and here I doubt that 
 Mr Bowles will not approve of my sentiments. 
 
 Although I regret ha^^ng pubhshed English 
 Bards and Scotch Bevieivers, the part which 
 I regret the least is that which regards Mr 
 Bowles with reference to Pope. ^Vliilst I 
 was writing that publication, in 1807 and 
 1808, Mr Hobhouse was desirous that I 
 
 1 Mr Scott's Boh-Boy. 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 169 
 
 should express our mutual opinion of Pope, 
 and of Mr Bowles's edition of his works. 
 As I had completed my outline, and felt lazy, 
 I requested that he would do so. He did it. 
 His fourteen hues on Bowles's Pope are in 
 the first edition of English Bards and Scotch 
 Reviewers; and are quite as severe and much 
 more poetical than my own in the second. 
 On reprinting the work, as I put my name to 
 it, I omitted Mr Hobhouse's lines,^ and re- 
 placed them with my own, by which the work 
 gained less than Mr Bowles. I have stated 
 this in the preface to the second edition. It is 
 many years since I have read that poem ; but 
 the Quarterly Review, Mr Octavius Gilchrist,^ 
 and Mr Bowles himself, have been so obHging 
 as to refresh my memory, and that of the 
 pubUc. I am grieved to say, that in reading 
 over those lines, I repent of their having so far 
 fallen short of what I meant to express upon 
 the subject of Bowles's edition of Popes 
 
 1 Only one of Hobhouse's lines was retained by Byron : 
 
 ' Stick to thy sonnets, man !— at least they sell.' 
 
 The rest are, despite Byron's disclaimer, far inferior to 
 those that now stand. 
 
 •2 Octavius Graham Gilchrist (1779-1823), who wrote to 
 Bowles a vigorous Letter (1820), in the controversy. He 
 was mainly a 'literary archaeologist.' 
 
 II. L 
 
lyo STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 Works.^ Mr Bowles says, that 'Lord Byron 
 knows he does not deserve this character.' I 
 know no such thing. I have met Mr Bowles 
 occasionally, in the best society in London ; he 
 appeared to me an amiable, well-informed, and 
 extremely able man. I desire nothing better 
 than to dine in company with such a mannered 
 man every day in the week : but of ' his char- 
 acter' I know nothing personally; I can only 
 speak to his manners, and these have my 
 warmest approbation. But I never judge from 
 manners, for I once had my pocket picked by 
 the civilest gentleman I ever met with ; and 
 one of the mildest persons I ever saw was Ah 
 Pacha. Of Mr Bowles's 'character' I vtill not 
 do him the injustice to judge from the edition 
 of Pope, if he prepared it heedlessly ; nor the 
 justice, should it be otherwise, because I would 
 neither become a literary executioner nor a 
 personal one. Mr Bowles the indi\'idual, and 
 Mr Bowles the editor, appear the two most 
 opposite things imaginable. 
 
 ' And he himself one antithesis.' 
 
 I won't say Snle,' because it is harsh; nor 
 'mistaken,' because it has two syllables too 
 
 1 Published in 1802. Bowles received £300 for the 
 edition. 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 171 
 
 many : but every one must fill up the blank as 
 he pleases. 
 
 What I saw of Mr Bowles increased my 
 surprise and regret that he should ever have 
 lent his talents to such a task. If he had been 
 a fool, there would have been some excuse for 
 him ; if he had been a needy or a bad man, his 
 conduct would have been intelligible : but he is 
 the opposite of all these ; and thinking and 
 feeling as I do of Pope, to me the whole thing 
 is unaccountable. However, I must call things 
 by their right names. I cannot call his edition 
 of Pope a ' candid ' work ; and I still think that 
 there is an affectation of that quality not only 
 in those volumes, but in the pamphlets lately 
 published. 
 
 ' Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners ! ' 
 
 Mr Bowles says, that ' he has seen passages in 
 his letters to Martha Blount which were never 
 pubhshed by me, and I hope never will be by 
 others ; which are so gross as to imply the 
 grossest licentiousness.' Is this fair play? It 
 may, or it may not, be that such passages 
 exist; and that Pope, who was not a monk, 
 although a Catholic, may have occasionally 
 sinned in word and deed with woman in his 
 youth : but is this a sufficient ground for such 
 a sweeping denunciation? Where is the un- 
 
172 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 married Englishman of a certain rank of life, 
 who (provided he has not taken orders) has 
 not to reproach himself between the ages of 
 sixteen and thirty with far more licentiousness 
 than has ever yet been traced to Pope ? Pope 
 Uved in the public eye from his youth upwards ; 
 he had all the dunces of his own time for his 
 enemies, and, I am sorry to say, some, who 
 have not the apology of dulness for detraction, 
 since his death ; and yet to what do all their 
 accumulated hints and charges amount ? — to 
 an equivocal liaison with Martha Blomit, 
 which might arise as much from his infirmities 
 as from his passions ; to a hopeless flirtation 
 with Lady Mary W. jNIontagu ; to a story of 
 Gibber's ; ^ and to two or three coai"se passages 
 in his works. Who could come forth clearer 
 from an invidious inquest on a life of fifty-six 
 years ? Why are we to be officiously reminded 
 of such passages in his letters, provided that 
 they exist ? Is Mr Bowles aware to what such 
 rummaging among ' letters ' and ' stories ' might 
 lead ? I have myself seen a collection of letters 
 M another eminent, nay, pre-eminent, deceased 
 poct,'^ so abominably gross, and elaborately 
 
 1 ' I disdained to make any allusion to Gibber's well- 
 known anecdote.' — Bowles's Repl}-. 
 
 - Burns. Byron also refers to the letters in his Journal, 
 Dec. 13, 1813, q.v. 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 173 
 
 coarse, that I do not believe that they could 
 be paralleled in our language. What is more 
 strange is, that some of these are couched as 
 postscripts to his serious and sentimental letters, 
 to which are tacked either a piece of prose, or 
 some verses, of the most hyperbolical indecency. 
 He himself says, that if 'obscenity (using a 
 much coarser word) be the sin against the 
 Holy Ghost, he most certainly cannot be 
 saved.' These letters are in existence, and 
 have been seen by many besides myself; but 
 would his editor have been 'candid' in even 
 alluding to them? Nothing would have even 
 provoked me, an indifferent spectator, to aUude 
 to them, but this further attempt at the de- 
 preciation of Pope. 
 
 What should we say to an editor of Addison, 
 who cited the following passage from Walpole's 
 letters to George Montagu ? ^ ' Dr Young has 
 published a new book, etc. Mr Addison sent 
 for the young Earl of Warwick, as he was 
 dying, to show him in what peace a Christian 
 could die ; unluckily he died of brandy : 
 nothing makes a Christian die in peace hke 
 being maudling ! but don't say this in Gath 
 where you are.' Suppose the editor intro- 
 
 1 V. Young's Conjectures on Original Composition. 
 Works, p. 136. 
 
174 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 duced it with this preface : ' One circumstance 
 is mentioned by Horace Walpole, which, if 
 true, was indeed flagitious. Walpole informs 
 Montagu that Addison sent for the young Earl 
 of Warwick, when dying, to show him in what 
 peace a Christian could die ; but unluckily he 
 died drunk,' etc. etc. Now, although there 
 might occur on the subsequent, or on the same 
 page, a faint show of disbelief, seasoned with 
 the expression of the ' same candour ' (the 
 same exactly as throughout the book), I should 
 say that this editor was either foohsh or false 
 to his trust ; such a stoiy ought not to have 
 been admitted, except for one brief mark of 
 crushing indignation, unless it were completely 
 proved. Wliy the words ' if true ? ' that ' if 
 is not a peace-maker. "^Vhy talk of 'Gibber's 
 testimony ' to his licentiousness ? to what does 
 this amount ? that Pope when very young was 
 once decoyed, by some noblemen and the player, 
 to a house of carnal recreation. JNIr Bowles 
 was not always a clergyman ; and when he 
 was a very young man, was he never seduced 
 into as much ? If I were in the humour for 
 story-telling, and relating little anecdotes, I 
 could tell a much better story of iNIr Bowles 
 than Cibber's, upon much better authority, 
 viz. that of Mr Bowles himself. It was not 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 175 
 
 related by him in my presence, but in that of 
 a third person, whom Mr Bowles names oftener 
 than once in the course of his replies.^ This 
 gentleman related it to me as a humorous and 
 witty anecdote ; and so it was, whatever its 
 other characteristics might be. But should I, 
 for a youthful frolic, brand Mr Bowles with a 
 ' Hbertine sort of love,' or with ' licentiousness ? ' 
 Is he the less now a pious or a good man, for 
 not having always been a priest? No such 
 thing ; I am willing to believe him a good 
 man, almost as good a man as Pope, but no 
 better. 
 
 The truth is, that in these days the grand 
 'primum mobile' of England is cant; cant 
 poUtical, cant poetical, cant religious, cant 
 moral ; but always cant, multipUed through 
 aU the varieties of life. It is the fashion, and 
 while it lasts will be too powerful for those 
 who can only exist by taking the tone of the 
 time. I say cant, because it is a thing of words, 
 without the smallest influence upon human 
 actions ; the Enghsh being no wiser, no better, 
 and much poorer, and more divided amongst 
 themselves, as well as far less moral, than 
 they were before the prevalence of this verbal 
 
 1 Moore confesses, in a note to Byron's Letters, that he 
 was the anecdotist. 
 
176 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 decorum. This hysterical horror of poor Pope's 
 not very well ascertained and never fully proved 
 amours (for even Cibber owns that he prevented 
 tlie somewhat perilous adventure in which Pope 
 was embarking) sounds very virtuous in a con- 
 troversial pamphlet ; but all men of the world 
 who know what Ufe is, or at least what it was 
 to them in their youth, must laugh at such a 
 ludicrous foundation of the charge of ' a hber- 
 tine sort of love ' ; while the more serious will 
 look upon those who bring forward such charges 
 upon an insulated fact as fanatics or hypocrites, 
 perhaps both. The two are sometimes com- 
 pounded in a happy mixture. 
 
 Mr Octavius Gilchrist speaks rather irre- 
 verently of a 'second tumbler of hot white- 
 wine negus.' ^ What does he mean ? Is there 
 any harm in negus ? or is it the worse for being 
 hot ? or does Mr Bowles drink negus ? I had 
 a better opinion of him. I hoped that what- 
 ever wine he drank was neat ; or, at least, 
 that, like the ordinary in Jonathan Wild, * he 
 preferred punch, the rather as there was 
 nothing against it in Scripture.' I should be 
 sorry to believe that Mr Bowles was fond of 
 negus ; it is such a ' candid ' liquor, so hke a 
 wishy-washy compromise between the passion 
 
 ^ V. The London Magazine, v. 9, p. 162. 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 177 
 
 for wine and the propriety of water. But 
 different writers have divers tastes. Judge 
 Blackstone composed his Commentaries (he 
 was a poet too in his youth) with a bottle 
 of port before him.^ Addison's conversation 
 was not good for much till he had taken 
 a similar dose. Perhaps the prescription of 
 these two great men was not inferior to the 
 very different one of a soi-discmt poet of this 
 day,2 who, after wandering amongst the hills, 
 returns, goes to bed, and dictates his verses, 
 being fed by a by-stander with bread and 
 butter during the operation. 
 
 I now come to Mr Bowles's ' invariable prin- 
 ciples of poetry. '2 These Mr Bowles and some 
 of his correspondents pronounce 'unanswer- 
 able ' ; and they are ' unanswered,' at least by 
 Campbell, who seems to have been astounded 
 by the title. The sultan of the time being 
 offered to ally himself to a king of France 
 because ' he hated the word league ; ' which 
 proves that the Padishah understood French. 
 Mr Campbell has no need of my aUiance, nor 
 shall I presume to offer it ; but I do hate that 
 word 'invariable.' What is there of human, 
 
 ^ V. Croker, Boswell, iv. 465. 
 ^ Wordsworth. 
 
 ^ ' The Invariable Principles of Poetry, in a Letter 
 addressed to Thomas Campbell,' etc. (Bath, 1819.) 
 
178 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 be it poetry, philosophy, wit, wisdom, science, 
 power, glory, mind, matter, life, or death, which 
 is ' invariable 1 ' Of course I put things divine 
 out of the question. Of all arrogant baptisms 
 of a book, this title to a pamphlet appears 
 the most complacently conceited. It is Mr 
 Campbell's part to answer the contents of 
 this performance, and especially to vindi- 
 cate his own 'ship,'^ which Mr Bowles most 
 triumphantly proclaims to have struck to his 
 very first fire : 
 
 ' Quoth he, there was a ship ; 
 Now let me go, thou grey-hair'd loon. 
 Or my staff shall make thee skip.' 
 
 It is no afi'air of mine, but ha\ing once begun 
 (certainly not by my own "«dsh, but called upon 
 by the frequent recurrence to my name in the 
 pamphlets), I am like an Irishman in a 'row,' 
 'any body's customer.' I shall therefore say a 
 word or two on the 'ship.' 
 
 Mr Bowles asserts that Campbell's 'ship of 
 the line' derives aU its poetry, not from '■art,' 
 but from 'nature.' 'Take away the waves, the 
 winds, the sun, etc. etc. one mil become a 
 stripe of blue bunting ; and the other a piece 
 of coarse canvass on three tall poles.' Very 
 true; take away the 'waves,' ' the winds,' and 
 
 1 V. Campbell's Specimens of the British Poets. 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 179 
 
 there will be no ship at all, not only for poetical, 
 but for any other purpose ; and take away ' the 
 sun,' and we must read Mr Bowles's pamphlet 
 by candle-light. But the ' poetry ' of the ' ship ' 
 does not depend on ' the waves,' etc. ; on the 
 contrary, the ' ship of the line ' confers its own 
 poetry upon the waters, and heightens theirs. 
 I do not deny, that the 'waves and winds,' and 
 above all Hhe sun,' are highly poetical; we 
 know it to our cost, by the many descriptions 
 of them in verse : but if the waves bore only 
 the foam upon their bosoms, if the winds 
 wafted only the sea-weed to the shore, if the 
 sun shone neither upon pyramids, nor fleets, 
 nor fortresses, would its beams be equally 
 poetical ? I think not : the poetry is at least 
 reciprocal. Take away ' the ship of the Une ' 
 'swinging round' the 'calm water,' and the 
 calm water becomes a somewhat monotonous 
 thing to look at, particularly if not trans- 
 parently clear; witness the thousands who 
 pass by without looking on it at all. What 
 was it attracted the thousands to the launch ? 
 they might have seen the poetical ' calm water ' 
 at Wapping, or in the 'London Dock,' or in 
 the Paddington Canal, or in a horse-pond, or in 
 a slop-basin, or in any other vase. They might 
 have heard the poetical winds howling through 
 
i8o STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 the chinks of a pigsty, or the garret window ; 
 they might have seen the sun shining on a 
 footman's livery, or on a brass warming-pan ; 
 but coukl the 'calm water,' or the 'wind,' or 
 the 'sun,' make all, or any of these 'poetical?' 
 I think not. Mr Bowles admits ' the ship ' to 
 be poetical, but only from those accessaries : 
 now if they confer poetry so as to make one 
 thing poetical, they would make other things 
 poetical; the more so, as Mr Bowles calls a 
 ' ship of the line ' without them, — that is to say, 
 its ' masts and sails and streamers,' — ' blue 
 bunting,' and ' coarse canvass,' and ' tall poles.' 
 So they are ; and porcelain is clay, and man is 
 dust, and flesh is grass, and yet the two latter 
 at least are the subjects of much poesy. 
 
 Did Mr Bowles ever gaze upon the sea ? I 
 presume that he has, at least upon a sea-piece. 
 Did any painter ever paint the sea only, with- 
 out the addition of a ship, boat, wreck, or 
 some such adjunct? Is the sea itself a more 
 attractive, a more moral, a more poetical 
 object, with or ^vithout a vessel, breaking its 
 vast but fatiguing monotony ? Is a stonn more 
 poetical without a ship ? or, in the poem of Tlie 
 Shipwreck, is it the storm or the ship which 
 most interests ? both much undoubtedly ; but 
 without the vessel, what should we care for 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE i8i 
 
 the tempest ? It would sink into mere de- 
 scriptive poetry, which in itself was never 
 esteemed a high order of that art. 
 
 I look upon myself as entitled to talk of 
 naval matters, at least to poets : — with the 
 exception of Walter Scott, Moore, and Southey, 
 perhaps, who have been voyagers, I have swam 
 more miles than all the rest of them together 
 now living ever sailed, and have lived for 
 months and months on shipboard ; and, during 
 the whole period of my life abroad, have scarcely 
 ever passed a month out of sight of the ocean : 
 besides being brought up from two years till ten 
 on the brink of it. I recollect, when anchored 
 off Cape Sigaeum in 1810, in an English frigate, 
 a violent squall coming on at sunset, so violent 
 as to make us imagine that the ship would part 
 cable, or drive from her anchorage. Mr Hobhouse 
 and myself, and some officers, had been up the 
 Dardanelles to Abydos, and were just returned 
 in time. The aspect of a storm in the Archipel- 
 ago is as poetical as need be, the sea being par- 
 ticularly short, dashing, and dangerous, and the 
 navigation intricate and broken by the isles and 
 currents. Cape Sig^um, the tumuli of the 
 Troad, Lemnos, Tenedos, all added to the 
 associations of the time. But what seemed the 
 most 'poeticaV of all at the moment, were the 
 
1 82 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 numbers (about two hundred) of Greek and 
 Turkish craft, which were obliged to ' cut 
 and run' before the wind, from their unsafe 
 anchorage, some for Tenedos, some for other 
 isles, some for the main, and some, it might 
 be, for eternity. The sight of these little scud- 
 ding vessels, darting over the foam in the 
 twihght, now appearing and now disappearing 
 between the waves in the cloud of night, with 
 their pecuharly white sails, (the Levant sails not 
 being of ' coarse canvass,' but of white cotton), 
 skimming along as quickly, but less safely, than 
 the sea-mews which hovered over them ; their 
 evident distress, their reduction to fluttering 
 specks in the distance, their crowded succession, 
 their littleness, as contending ^-ith the giant ele- 
 ments which made our stout forty-four's teak 
 timbers (she was built in India) creak again ; 
 their aspect and their motion, aU struck me as 
 something far more ' poetical ' than the mere 
 broad, brawling, shipless sea, and the suUen 
 winds, could possibly have been without them. 
 The Euxine is a noble sea to look upon, and 
 the port of Constantinople the most beautifal 
 of harbours, and yet I cannot but think that 
 the twenty sail of the line, some of one hundred 
 and forty guns, rendered it more ' poetical ' by 
 day in the sun, and by night perhaps still more, 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 183 
 
 for the Turks illuminate their vessels of war in 
 a manner the most picturesque : and yet all 
 this is artificial. As for the Euxine, I stood 
 upon the Symplegades — I stood by the broken 
 altar stiU exposed to the winds upon one of 
 them — I felt all the 'poetry ' of the situation, 
 as I repeated the first lines of Medea; but 
 would not that ' poetry ' have been heightened 
 by the Argo ? It was so even by the appear- 
 ance of any merchant-vessel arriving from 
 Odessa. But Mr Bowles says, 'Why bring 
 your ship off the stocks ? ' for no reason that I 
 know except that ships are built to be launched. 
 The water, etc. undoubtedly heightens the 
 poetical associations, but it does not make them ; 
 and the ship amply repays the obhgation : they 
 aid each other ; the water is more poetical with 
 the ship — the ship less so without the water. 
 But even a ship laid up in dock is a grand and 
 poetical sight. Even an old boat, keel upwards, 
 wrecked upon the barren sand, is a ' poetical ' 
 object (and Wordsworth, who made a poem 
 about a washing-tub and a blind boy, may tell 
 you so as well as I), whilst a long extent of sand 
 and unbroken water, without the boat, would 
 be as like dull prose as any pamphlet lately 
 published. 
 
 What makes the poetry in the image of the 
 
184 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 ^marble waste of Tadmor,' of Grainger's Ode 
 to Solitude,'^ so much admired by Johnson ? Is 
 it the ^marble' or the ^ waste,' the artificial 
 or the natural object ? The ' waste ' is like 
 all other wastes ; but the ' marble ' of Palmyra 
 makes the poetry of the passage as of the place. 
 The beautiful but baiTen Hymettus, the whole 
 coast of Attica, her hills and mountains, Pente- 
 licus, Anchesmus, Philopappus, etc. etc. are in 
 themselves poetical, and would be so if the 
 name of Athens, of Athenians, and her very 
 ruins, were swept from the earth. But I am to 
 be told that the ' nature ' of Attica would be 
 more poetical without the ' art ' of the Acro- 
 polis ? of the Temple of Theseus ? and of the 
 still all Greek and glorious monuments of her 
 exquisitely artificial genius ? Ask the traveller 
 what strikes him as most poetical, the Par- 
 thenon, or the rock on which it stands ? The 
 COLUMNS of Cape Colonna, or the Cape itself? 
 The rocks at the foot of it, or the recollection 
 that Falconer's ship was bulged upon them ? ^ 
 There are a thousand rocks and capes far more 
 
 1 James Grainger, M.D. (1723-1767), Author of The 
 Sugar Cane, etc. 
 
 " V. note to Childe Harold, c. ii., ' Colonua has yet an 
 additional interest as the actual spot of Falconer's ship- 
 wreck, i.e. in the poem. Falconer's own end was by 
 shipwreck, in the Straits of Magellan. 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 185 
 
 picturesque than those of the Acropohs and 
 Cape Sunium, in themselves ; what are they to 
 a thousand scenes in the wilder parts of Greece, 
 of Asia Minor, Switzerland, or even of Cintra in 
 Portugal, or to many scenes of Italy, and the 
 Sierras of Spain ? But it is the ' art,' the 
 columns, the temples, the wrecked vessel, which 
 give them their antique and their modern poetry, 
 and not the spots themselves. Without them, 
 the spots of earth would be unnoticed and un- 
 known ; buried, Hke Babylon and Nineveh, in 
 indistinct confusion, without poetry, as without 
 existence ; but to whatever spot of earth these 
 ruins were transported, if they were capable of 
 transportation, hke the obelisk, and the sphinx, 
 and the Memnon's head, there they would still 
 exist in the perfection of their beauty, and in 
 the pride of their poetry. I opposed, and will 
 ever oppose, the robbery of ruins from Athens, 
 to instruct the English in sculpture ; but why 
 did I do so ? The ruins are as poetical in Picca- 
 dilly as they were in the Parthenon ; but the 
 Parthenon and its rock are less so without them. 
 Such is the poetry of art. 
 
 Mr Bowles contends, again, that the pyra- 
 mids of Egypt are poetical, because of ' the 
 association with boundless deserts,' and that a 
 'pyramid of the same dimensions' would not 
 
 II. M 
 
1 86 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 be sublime in ' Lincoln's Inn Fields : ' not so 
 poetical certainly ; but takeaway the 'pyramids/ 
 and what is the ' desert ? ' Take away Stone- 
 henge from Salisbury plain, and it is nothing 
 more than Hounslow-heath, or any other unen- 
 closed down. It appears to me that St Peter's, 
 the Coliseum, the Pantheon, the Palatine, the 
 Apollo, the Laocoon, the Venus di MedicLs, the 
 Hercules, the dying Gladiator, the Moses of 
 Michael Angelo, and all the liigher works of 
 Canova (I have ah'eady spoken of those of 
 ancient Greece, still extant in that country, or 
 transported to England), are as i^oetical as 
 Mont Blanc or Mont ^tna, perhaps still more 
 so, as they are direct manifestations of mind, 
 and presiqypose poetry in their very conception ; 
 and have, moreover, as being such, a something 
 of actual Hfe, which camiot belong to any part 
 of inanimate natm*e, unless we adopt the system 
 of Spinosa, that the world is the Deity. Tliere 
 can be nothing more poetical in its aspect than 
 the city of Venice : does this depend upon the 
 sea, or the canals ? — 
 
 ' The dirt and sea- weed whence proud Venice rose ? ' ^ 
 
 Is it the canal which runs between the palace 
 and the prison, or the ' Bridge of Sighs, 'which 
 
 1 Cf. Childe Harold, c. iv. 13, 6. 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 187 
 
 connects them, that renders it poetical? Is 
 it the ' Canale Grande/ or the Rialto which 
 arches it, the churches which tower over it, 
 the palaces which Kne, and the gondolas which 
 glide over, the waters, that render this city 
 more poetical than Rome itself? Mr Bowles 
 will say, perhaps, that the Rialto is but marble, 
 the palaces and churches only stone, and the 
 gondolas a 'coarse' black cloth, thrown over 
 some planks of carved wood, with a shining bit 
 of fantastically-formed iron at the prow, ' with- 
 out ' the water. And I tell him that, without 
 these, the water would be nothing but a clay- 
 coloured ditch ; and whoever says the contrary 
 deserves to be at the bottom of that, where 
 Pope's heroes are embraced by the mud nymphs. 
 There would be nothing to make the canal of 
 Venice more poetical than that of Paddington, 
 were it not for the artificial adjuncts above men- 
 tioned ; although it is a perfectly natural canal, 
 formed by the sea, and the innumerable islands 
 which constitute the site of this extraordinary 
 city. 
 
 The very Cloaca of Tarquin at Rome are as 
 poetical as Richmond Hill ; many will think 
 more so : take away Rome, and leave the Tiber 
 and the seven hills, in the nature of Evander's 
 time. Let Mr Bowles, or Mr Wordsworth, or 
 
1 88 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 Mr Southey, or any of the other 'naturals,' 
 make a poem upon them, and then see which is 
 most poetical, their production, or the common- 
 est guide-book, which tells you the road from 
 St Peter's to the Cohseum, and informs you 
 what you will see by the way. The ground 
 interests in Virgil, because it will be Rome, and 
 not because it is Evander's rural domain. 
 
 Mr Bowles then proceeds to press Homer into 
 his service, in answer to a remark of Mr Camp- 
 bell's, that ' Homer was a gi-eat describer ^ of 
 works of art.' Mr Bowles contends, that aU 
 his great power, even in this, depends upon 
 their connection with nature. The 'shield of 
 Achilles derives its poetical interest from the 
 subjects described on it.' And from what does 
 the spear of AchiUes derive its interest ? and 
 the helmet and the mail worn by Patroclus, and 
 the celestial armour, and the very brazen greaves 
 of the well-booted Greeks ? Is it solely from 
 the legs, and the back, and the breast, and the 
 human body, which they enclose ? In that case, 
 it would have been more poetical to have made 
 them fight naked ; and GuUey and Gregson, as 
 being nearer to a state of nature, are more 
 poetical, boxing in a pair of drawei-s, than 
 
 1 Campbell said a ' minute,' not a great describer, and 
 so Bowles quotes him. 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 189 
 
 Hector and Achilles in radiant armour, and 
 with heroic weapons. 
 
 Instead of the clash of helmets, and the rush- 
 ing of chariots, and the whizzing of spears, and 
 the glancing of swords, and the cleaving 
 of shields, and the piercing of breast-plates, 
 why not represent the Greeks and Trojans 
 like two savage tribes, tugging and tearing, 
 and kicking and biting, and gnashing, foam- 
 ing, grinning, and gouging, in all the poetry 
 of martial nature, unencumbered with gross, 
 prosaic, artificial arms ; an equal superfluity to 
 the natural warrior, and his natural poet? Is 
 there any thing unpoetical in Ulysses striking the 
 horses of Rhesus with his how (having forgotten 
 his thong), or would Mr Bowles have had him 
 kick them with his foot, or smack them with 
 his hand, as being more unsophisticated ? 
 
 In Gray's Elegy, is there an image more 
 striking than his ' shapeless sculpture ? ' Of 
 sculpture in general, it may be observed, that 
 it is more poetical than nature itself, inasmuch 
 as it represents and bodies forth that ideal 
 beauty and sublimity which is never to be 
 found in actual nature. This, at least, is the 
 general opinion. But, always excepting the 
 Venus di Medicis, I differ from that opinion, at 
 least as far as regards female beauty ; for the 
 
1 90 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 head of Lady Charlemont (when I first saw her 
 nine years ago) seemed to possess all that sculp- 
 ture could require for its ideal. I recollect 
 seeing something of the same kind in the head of 
 an Albanian girl, who was actually employed in 
 mending a road in the mountains, and in some 
 Greek, and one or two Jtalian, faces. But of 
 sublimity, I have never seen any thing in human 
 nature at all to approach the expression of sculp- 
 ture, either in the Apollo, the Moses, or other 
 of the sterner works of ancient or modem art. 
 
 Let us examine a httle further this ' babble 
 of green fields ' and of bare nature in general 
 as superior to artificial imageiy, for the poetical 
 purposes of the fine arts. In landscape-painting, 
 the great artist does not give you a literal copy 
 of a country, but he invents and composes one. 
 Nature, in her actual aspect, does not furnish 
 him with such existing scenes as he requires. 
 Even where he presents you with some famous 
 city, or celebrated scene from mountain or other 
 nature, it must be taken from some particular 
 point of view, and ^vith such Kght, and shade, 
 and distance, etc. as serve not only to heighten 
 its beauties, but to shadow its deformities. The 
 poetry of nature alone, exactly as she appears, 
 is not sufficient to bear him out. The very sky 
 of his painting is not the portrait of the sky of 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 191 
 
 nature ; it is a composition of different skies, 
 observed at different times, and not the whole 
 copied from any particular day. And why? 
 Because nature is not lavish of her beauties ; 
 they are widely scattered, and occasionally dis- 
 played, to be selected with care, and gathered 
 with difficulty. 
 
 Of sculpture I have just spoken. It is the 
 great scope of the sculptor to heighten nature 
 into heroic beauty, i.e. in plain English, to sur- 
 pass his model. When Canova forms a statue, 
 he takes a limb from one, a hand from another, 
 a feature from a third, and a shape, it may be, 
 from a fourth, probably at the same time im- 
 proving upon all, as the Greek of old did in 
 embodying his Venus. 
 
 Ask a portrait-painter to describe his agonies 
 in accommodating the faces, with which nature 
 and his sitters have crowded his painting-room, 
 to the principles of his art : with the exception 
 of perhaps ten faces in as many millions, there 
 is not one which he can venture to give with- 
 out shading much and adding more. Nature, 
 exactly, simply, barely nature, will make no 
 great artist of any kind, and least of all a 
 poet — the most artificial, perhaps, of all artists 
 in his very essence. With regard to natural 
 imagery, the poets are obhged to take some of 
 
192 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 their best illustrations from art. You say that 
 a 'fountain is as clear or clearer than glass,' to 
 express its beauty : — 
 
 ' O fons Blandusise, splendidior vitro ! ' ^ 
 In the speech of Mark Antony, the body of 
 Ca3sar is displayed, but so also is his mantle : — 
 ' You all do know this mantle,^ etc. 
 
 ' Look ! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through.' 
 If the poet had said that Cassius had run his 
 fist through the rent of the mantle, it would 
 have had more of Mr Bowles's ' nature ' to help 
 it ; but the artificial dagger is more poetical 
 than any natural hand without it. In the sub- 
 lime of sacred poetry, ' "Who is this that cometh 
 from Edom ? with dyed garments from Bozrah ? ' 
 Would ' the comer ' be poetical without his 
 ' dyed garments ? ' which strike and startle the 
 spectator, and identify the approacliiug object. 
 
 The mother of Sisera is represented listening 
 for the ' wheels of his chariot.' Solomon, in 
 his Song, compares the nose of his beloved to 
 'a tower,' which to us appeal's an eastern ex- 
 aggeration. If he had said, that her statiu*e 
 was like that of a 'tower's,' it would have been 
 as poetical as if he had compared her to a tree. 
 ' The virtuous Mareia toivers above her sex,' 
 
 1 Horace, Odes, 13, 1. 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 193 
 
 is an instance of an artificial image to express a 
 moral superiority. But Solomon, it is probable, 
 did not compare his beloved's nose to a ' tower ' 
 on account of its length, but of its symmetry ; 
 and making allowance for eastern hyperbole, and 
 the difficulty of finding a discreet image for a 
 female nose in nature, it is perhaps as good a 
 figure as any other. 
 
 Art is not inferior to nature for poetical pur- 
 poses. What makes a regiment of soldiers a 
 more noble object of view than the same mass 
 of mob ? Their arms, their dresses, their 
 banners, and the art and artificial symmetry of 
 their position and movements. A Highlander's 
 plaid, a Mussulman's turban, and a Roman 
 toga, are more poetical than the tattooed or un- 
 tattooed buttocks of a New Sandwich savage, 
 although they were described by WilHam Words- 
 worth himself like the ' idiot in his glory.' 
 
 I have seen as many mountains as most men, 
 and more fleets than the generality of landsmen ; 
 and, to my mind, a large convoy, with a few 
 sail of the line to conduct them, is as noble and 
 as poetical a prospect as all that inanimate 
 nature can produce. I prefer the 'mast of 
 some great ammiral,' with all its tackle, to the 
 Scotch fir or the alpine tannen ; and think that 
 more poetry has been made out of it. In what 
 
194 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 does the infinite superiority of Falconer's Ship- 
 wreck over all other shipwrecks consist ? In 
 his admirable application of the terms of his 
 art ; in a poet-sailor's description of the sailor's 
 fate. These very terms, by his apphcation, 
 make the strength and reality of his poem. 
 Why ? Because he was a poet ; and, in the 
 hands of a poet, art will not be found less orna- 
 mental than nature. It is precisely in general 
 nature, and in stepping out of his element, that 
 Falconer fails ; where he digresses to speak of 
 ancient Greece, and ' such branches of learning.' 
 In Dyer's Grongar Hill,^ upon which his 
 fame rests, the very appearance of nature her- 
 self is moralised into an artificial image : — 
 
 ' Thus is nature's vesture wrought, 
 To instruct our wandering thought ; 
 Thus she dresses green and gay, 
 To disperse our cares away.' 
 
 And here also we have the telescope ; the 
 
 misuse of which, by ]Milton,- has rendered ]Mr 
 
 Bowles so triumphant over JNIr Campbell ^ : — 
 
 ^ Byron was freely criticised at the time for his far- 
 fetched charge of Campbell's plagiarising from Dyer. 
 ^ ' . . . . . whose orb 
 
 Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views 
 At evening, from the top of Fesole.' 
 
 — Paradise Lost., b. 1. 
 ^ Cf. Campbell's essay prefixed to his Specimens of the 
 British Poets (ed. 1841), p. Ixxxvii., and Bowles's Invari- 
 able Principles, p. 17. 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 195 
 
 ' So we mistake the future's face, 
 Eyed through Hope's deluding glass.' 
 
 And here a word, en passant, to Mr Camp- 
 bell :— 
 
 ' As yon summits, soft and fair, 
 Clad in colours of the air, 
 Which to those who journey near 
 Barren, brown, and rough appear. 
 Still we tread the same coarse way — 
 The present's still a cloudy day.' 
 
 Is not this the original of the far-famed — 
 
 ' 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, 
 And robes the mountain in its azure hue '? ' 
 
 To return, once more, to the sea. Let any 
 one look on the long wall of Malamocco, which 
 curbs the Adriatic, and pronounce between the 
 sea and its master. Surely that Roman work 
 (I mean Roman in conception and performance), 
 which says to the ocean, ' Thus far shalt thou 
 come, and no further,' and is obeyed, is not less 
 sublime and poetical than the angry waves 
 which vainly break beneath it. 
 
 Mr Bowles makes the chief part of a ship's 
 poesy depend upon the ' wind : ' then why is a 
 ship under sail more poetical than a hog in a 
 high wind ? The hog is all nature, the ship is 
 all art, 'coarse canvass,' 'blue bunting,' and 
 ' tall poles ; ' both are violently acted upon by 
 
196 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 the wind, tossed here and there, to and fro : 
 and yet nothing but excess of hunger could 
 make me look upon the pig as the more poetical 
 of the two, and then only in the shape of a 
 griskin. 
 
 Will Mr Bowles tell us that the poetry of an 
 aqueduct consists in the water which it conveys ? 
 Let him look on that of Justinian, on those of 
 Rome, Constantinople, Lisbon, and Elvas, or 
 even at the remains of that in Attica. 
 
 We are asked, 'What makes the venerable 
 towers of Westminster Abbey more poetical, as 
 objects, than the tower for the manufactory of 
 patent shot, surrounded by the same scenery ? ' 
 I will answer — the architecture. TmTi West- 
 minster Abbey, or Saint Paul's, into a powder- 
 magazine, their poetry, as objects, remains the 
 same ; the Parthenon was actually converted 
 into one by the Turks, dming jMorosini's 
 Venetian siege, and part of it destroyed in con- 
 sequence. Cromwell's di-agoons stalled their 
 steeds in Worcester cathedral ; was it less 
 poetical as an object than before ? Ask a 
 foreigner, on his approach to Loudon, what 
 strikes him as the most poetical of the towers 
 before him : he will point out Saint Paul's and 
 Westminster Abbey, without, perhaps, knowing 
 the names or associations of either, and pass 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 197 
 
 over the " tower for patent shot/' — not that, for 
 any thing he knows to the contrary, it might 
 not be the mausoleum of a monarch, or a 
 Waterloo column, or a Trafalgar monument, but 
 because its architecture is obviously inferior. 
 
 To the question, ' Whether the description of 
 a game of cards be as poetical, supposing the 
 execution of the artists equal, as a description 
 of a walk in a forest ? ' it may be answered, that 
 the materials are certainly not equal ; but that 
 ' the artist ' who has rendered the ' game of 
 cards poetical,' is hy far the greater of the two. 
 But all this ' ordering ' of poets is purely arbi- 
 trary on the part of Mr Bowles. There may or 
 may not be, in fact, different ' orders ' of poetry, 
 but the poet is always ranked according to his 
 execution, and not according to his branch of 
 the art. 
 
 Tragedy is one of the highest presumed 
 orders. Hughes has written a tragedy,^ and a 
 very successful one ; Fenton another,^ and Pope 
 none. Did any man, however, — will even Mr 
 Bowles himself, — rank Hughes and Fenton as 
 poets above Pope 1 Was even Addison (the 
 author of Cato), or Rowe (one of the higher 
 
 ^ 'The Siege of Damascus,' produced Feb. 17, 1720; 
 on the day of its author's death. 
 
 2 I.e., Elijah Fenton. The play was ' Mariamne,' 
 produced in 1723. 
 
198 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 order of dramatists, as far as success goes), or 
 Young, or even Otway and Southerne, ever 
 raised for a moment to the same rank with 
 Pope in the estimation of the reader or the 
 critic, before his death or since ? If Mr Bowles 
 will contend for classifications of this kind, let 
 him recollect that descriptive poetry has been 
 ranked as among the lowest branches of the art, 
 and description as a mere ornament, but which 
 should never form the 'subject' of a poem. 
 The Italians, with the most poetical language, 
 and the most fastidious taste in Europe, possess 
 now five great poets, they say, Dante, Petrarch, 
 Ariosto, Tasso, and, lastly, Alfieri ; ^ and whom 
 
 ^ Of these there is one ranked with the others for his 
 Sonnets, and two for compositions ■n-hich belong to no da-ss 
 at all. Where is Dante ? His poem is not an ejnc ; then 
 what is it ? He himself calls it a ' divine comedy ; ' and 
 why ? This is more than all his thousand commentators 
 have been able to explain. Ariosto's is not an epic poem ; 
 and if poets are to be classed according to the genus of 
 their poetry, where is he to be placed ? Of these five, 
 Tasso and Alfieri only come within Aristotle's arrange- 
 ment, and Mr Bowles's class-book. But the whole posi- 
 tion is false. Poets are classed by the power of their 
 performance, and not according to its rank in a gradus. 
 In the contrary case, the forgotten epic poets of all 
 countries would rank above Petrarch, Dante, Ariosto, 
 Burns, Gray, Dry den, and the highest names of various 
 countries. Mr Bowles's title of ' invariable principles of 
 poetry,' is, perhaps, the most arrogant ever prefixed to a 
 volume. So far are the principles of poetry from being 
 ' invarialle,' that they never were nor ever will be 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 199 
 
 do they esteem one of the highest of these, and 
 some of them the very highest ? Petrarch the 
 sonneteer : it is true that some of his Canzoni 
 are not less esteemed, but not more; who ever 
 dreams of his Latin Africa ? ^ 
 
 Were Petrarch to be ranked according to the 
 ' order ' of the compositions, where would the 
 best of sonnets place him ? with Dante and the 
 others ? no ; but, as I have before said, the poet 
 who executes best is the highest, whatever his 
 department, and will ever be so rated in the 
 world's esteem. 
 
 Had Gray written nothing but his Elegy, high 
 as he stands, I am not sure that he would not 
 stand higher ; it is the corner-stone of his glory : 
 
 settled. These ' principles ' mean nothing more than the 
 predilections of a particular age ; and every age has its 
 own, and a different from its predecessor. It is now 
 Homer, and now Virgil ; once Dryden, and since Walter 
 Scott ; now Corneille, and now Racine ; nowCr6billon, now 
 Voltaire. The Homerists and Virgilians in France dis- 
 puted for half a century. Not fifty years ago the Italians 
 neglected Dante — Bettinelli reproved Monti for reading 
 ' that barbarian ; ' at present they adore him. Shak- 
 speare and Milton have had their rise, and they will have 
 their decline. Already they have more than once fluctu- 
 ated, as must be the case with all the dramatists and 
 poets of a living language. This does not depend upon 
 their merits, but upon the ordinary vicissitudes of human 
 opinions. Schlegel and Madame de Stael have en- 
 deavoured also to reduce poetry to two systems, classical 
 and romantic. The effect is only beginning. (Byron. ) 
 1 Of. Daniel's reference to Petrarch's ^/rica, vol. i. p. 210. 
 
200 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 without it, his odes would be insufficient for 
 his fame. The depreciation of Pope is partly 
 founded upon a false idea of the dignity of his 
 order of poetry, to which he has partly contri- 
 buted by the ingenuous boast, 
 
 ' That not in fancy's maze he wander'd long, 
 But stoofjd to truth, and moralised his song.' ^ 
 
 He should have written ' rose to truth.' In 
 my mind, the highest of all poetry is ethical 
 poetry, as the highest of all earthly objects must 
 be moral truth. Religion does not make a part 
 of my subject ; it is something beyond human 
 powers, and has failed in all human hands, 
 except Milton's and Dante's : and even Dante's 
 powers are involved in his delineation of human 
 passions, though in supernatural cu'cumstances. 
 What made Socrates the greatest of men ? His 
 moral truth — his ethics. What proved Jesus 
 Christ the Son of God hardly less than his 
 miracles ? His moral precepts. And if ethics 
 have made a philosopher the first of men, and 
 have not been disdained as an adjimct to his 
 Gospel by the Deity himself, are we to be told 
 that ethical poetry, or didactic poetry, or by 
 whatever name you term it, whose object is 
 to make men better and wiser, is not the verj 
 first order of poetry ; and are we to be told this, 
 
 1 Satires : Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot, 1. 340-1. 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 201 
 
 too, by one of the priesthood ? It requires more 
 mind, more wisdom, more power, than all the 
 ' forests ' that ever were ' walked ' for their 
 ' description/ and all the epics that ever were 
 founded upon fields of battle. The Georgics 
 are indisputably, and, I believe, undisputedly , 
 even a finer poem than the JEneid. Virgil 
 knew this ; he did not order them to be burnt. 
 
 ' The proper study of mankind is man.' 
 
 It is the fashion of the day to lay great stress 
 upon what they call ' imagination ' and ' in- 
 vention,' the two commonest of qualities : an 
 Irish peasant with a little whiskey in his head 
 mil imagine and invent more than would furnish 
 forth a modern poem. If Lucretius had not 
 been spoiled by the Epicurean system, we 
 should have had a far superior poem to any 
 now in existence. As mere poetry, it is the 
 first of Latin poems. What then has ruined 
 it ? His ethics. Pope has not this defect ; his 
 moral is as pure as his poetry is glorious. 
 
 In speaking of artificial objects, I have 
 omitted to touch upon one which I will now 
 mention. Cannon may be presumed to be as 
 highly poetical as art can make her objects, Mr 
 Bowles will, perhaps, tell me that this is because 
 they resemble that grand natural article of sound 
 
 II. 
 
 N 
 
202 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 in heaven, and simile upon earth — thunder. I 
 sliall be told triumphantly, that Milton made 
 sad work with his artillery, when he armed 
 his devils therewithal. He did so ; and this 
 artificial object must have had much of the sub- 
 lime to attract his attention for such a conflict. 
 He has made an absurd use of it ; but the 
 absurdity consists not in using cannon against 
 the angels of God, but any material weapon. 
 The thunder of the clouds would have been as 
 ridiculous and vain in the hands of the devils, 
 as the ' villanous saltpetre : ' the angels were as 
 impervious to the one as to the other. The 
 thunderbolts become sublime in the hands of the 
 Almighty, not as such, but because he deigns 
 to use them as a means of repelling the rebel 
 spirit ; but no one can attribute their defeat to 
 this grand piece of natural electricity : the 
 Almighty willed, and they fell ; his word would 
 have been enough ; and Milton is as absurd 
 (and, in fact, blasjjhemous,) in putting material 
 lightnings into the hands of the Godhead, as in 
 mviufiT him hands at all. 
 
 The artillery of the demons was but the first 
 step of his mistake, the thunder the next, and 
 it is a step lower. It would have been fit for 
 Jove, but not for Jehovah. The subject al- 
 together was essentially unpoetical ; he has 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 203 
 
 made more of it than another could, but it is 
 beyond him and all men. 
 
 In a portion of his reply, Mr Bowles asserts 
 that Pope ' envied PhilKps,' because he quizzed 
 his Pastorals in the Guardian,^ in that most 
 admirable model of irony, his paper on the 
 subject. If there was any thing enviable about 
 Phillips, it could hardly be his pastorals.^ They 
 were despicable, and Pope expressed his con- 
 tempt. If Mr Fitzgerald ^ pubhshed a volume 
 of sonnets, or a Spirit of Discovery, or a Mis- 
 sionary, and Mr Bowles wrote in any periodical 
 journal an ironical paper upon them, would 
 this be ' envy ? ' The authors of the Rejected 
 Addresses have ridiculed the sixteen or twenty 
 ' first living poets ' of the day, but do they 
 ' envy ' them ? ' Envy ' writhes, it don't laugh. 
 The authors of the Rejected Addresses may 
 despise some, but they can hardly ' envy ' any 
 of the persons whom they have parodied ; and 
 Pope could have no more envied PhiUips than 
 he did Welsted, or Theobald, or Smedley,* 
 
 1 27th April 1713. 
 
 2 Was the Splendid Shilling referred to by Byron, p. 
 206, imputed by him to Ambrose Philips ? 
 
 ^ William T. Fitzgerald, a, jingo poetaster. Gf. ' English 
 Bards and Scotch Reviewers,' 1, 2. 
 
 ^ V. The Dunciad, ii. 207 ; iii. 169 ; i. 133, 286 ; ii. 
 291, &c., for allusions respectively to Welsted, Theobald 
 (Sibbald), and Smedley. 
 
204 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 or any other given hero of the Dunciad. He 
 could not have envied him, even had he him- 
 self not been the greatest poet of his age. Did 
 Mr Ings 'envy' Mr Phillips when he asked 
 him, 'How came your Pyrrhus to drive oxen, 
 and say I am goaded on by loveV^ This 
 question silenced poor Phillips ; but it no more 
 proceeded from ' envy ' than did Pope's ridicule. 
 Did he envy Swift ? Did he envy Bohngbroke ? 
 Did he envy Gay the unparalleled success of 
 his Beggars Opera ? We may be answered 
 that these were his fiiends — true : but does 
 friendship prevent envy ? Study the first 
 woman you meet with, or the first scribbler, 
 let Mr Bowles himself (whom I acquit fully of 
 such an odious quality) study some of his own 
 poetical intimates : the most envious man I 
 ever heard of is a poet, and a high one ; besides, 
 it is a universal passion. Goldsmith envied 
 not only the puppets for theii* dancing, and 
 broke his shins in the attempt at rivalry, but 
 was seriously angry because two pretty women 
 received more attention than he did. This is 
 envy ; but where does Pope show a sign of the 
 passion ? In that case Dryden envied the hero 
 of his Mac Flecknoe. Mr Bowles compares, 
 
 1 V. 'Johnson's Lives' (Mr Waugh's edn.), v., vi., 
 p. 49. 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 205 
 
 when and where he can, Pope with Cowper — 
 (the same Cowper whom in his edition of Pope 
 he laughs at for his attachment to an old woman, 
 Mrs Unwin; search and you wiU find it; I 
 remember the passage, though not the page ;) 
 in particular he requotes Cowper's Dutch de- 
 lineation of a wood, drawn up, like a seed- 
 man's catalogue,^ with an affected imitation of 
 
 ^ I will submit to Mr Bowles's own judgment a passage 
 from another poem of Cowper's, to be compared with the 
 same writer's Sylvan Sampler. In the lines To Mary, — 
 
 ' Thy needles, once a shining store, 
 For my sake restless heretofore, 
 Now rust disused, and shine no more, 
 
 My Mary,' 
 
 contain a simple, household, ' indoor,' artificial, and 
 ordinary image ; I refer Mr Bowles to the stanza, and 
 ask if these three lines about ' needles ' are not worth all 
 the boasted twaddling about trees, so triumphantly re- 
 quoted ? and yet, in fact, what do they convey ? A 
 homely collection of images and ideas, associated with the 
 darning of stockings, and the hemming of shirts, and the 
 mending of breeches ; but will any one deny that they 
 are eminently poetical and pathetic, as addressed by 
 Cowper to his nurse ? The trash of trees reminds me of 
 a saying of Sheridan's. Soon after the Rejected Address 
 scene in 1812, I met Sheridan. In the course of dinner, 
 he said, ' Lord Byron, did you know that, amongst the 
 writers of addresses, was Whitbread himself?' I an- 
 swered by an inquiry of what sort of an address he had 
 made. 'Of that,' replied Sheridan, 'I remember little, 
 except that there was a phoenix in it.' — ' A phoenix ! ! 
 Well, how did he describe it?' — ^ Like a poulterer,' an- 
 swered Sheridan : ' it was green, and yellow, and red, 
 and blue : he did not let us off for a single feather.' And 
 
2o6 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 Milton's style, as burlesque as the Splendid 
 Shilling. These two writers, for Cowper is no 
 poet, come into comparison in one great work, 
 the translation of Homer. Now, with all the 
 great, and manifest, and manifold, and reproved, 
 and acknowledged, and uncontroverted faults 
 of Pope's translation, and all the scholarship, 
 and pains, and time, and trouble, and blank 
 verse of the other, who can ever read Coivper ? 
 and who will ever lay do\vn Pope, unless for 
 
 just such as this poulterer's account of a phcenix is 
 Cowper's stick-picker's detail of a wood, with all its petty 
 minutife of this, that, and the other. 
 
 One more poetical instance of the power of art, and 
 even its superiority over nature, in poetry ; and I have 
 done: — the bust of Antinou^ ! Is there any thing in 
 nature like this marble, excepting the Venus ? Can there 
 be more poetry gathered into existence than in that won- 
 derful creation of perfect beauty ? But the poetry of this 
 bust is in no respect derived from nature, nor from any 
 association of moral exaltedness ; for what is there in 
 common with moral nature, and the male minion of 
 Adrian ? The very execution is not natural, but super- 
 natural, or rather siiper-a7iijicia^, for nature has never 
 done so much. 
 
 Away, then, with this cant about nature, and ' invari- 
 able principles of poetry ! ' A great artist will make a 
 block of stone as sublime as a mountain, and a good poet 
 can imbue a pack of cards with more poetry than inhabits 
 the forests of America. It is the business and the proof 
 of a poet to give the lie to the proverb, and sometimes to 
 ' make a silken ptLr.'<e out of a sow's ear ; ' and, to conclude 
 with another homely proverb, ' a good workman will not 
 find fault with his tools.' (Byron.) 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 207 
 
 the original? Pope's was 'not Homer, it 
 was Spondanus ; ' but Cowper's is not Homer 
 either, it is not even Cowper. As a child I 
 first read Pope's Homer with a rapture which 
 no subsequent work could ever afford, and 
 children are not the worst judges of their own 
 language. As a boy I read Homer in the 
 original, as we have all done, some of us by 
 force, and a few by favour ; under which de- 
 scription I come is nothing to the purpose, it 
 is enough that I read him. As a man I have 
 tried to read Cowper's version, and I found 
 it impossible. Has any human reader ever 
 succeeded ? 
 
 And now that we have heard the Catholic 
 reproached with envy, duplicity, licentious- 
 ness, avarice — what was the Calvinist ? He 
 attempted the most atrocious of crimes in the 
 Christian code, viz. suicide — and why ? because 
 he was to be examined whether he was fit for an 
 office which he seems to wish to have made a 
 sinecure. His connection with Mrs Unwin was 
 pure enough, for the old lady was devout, and 
 he was deranged; but why then is the infirm 
 and then elderly Pope to be reproved for his 
 connection with Martha Blount ? Cowper was 
 the almoner of Mrs Throgmorton ; but Pope's 
 charities were his own, and they were noble 
 
2o8 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 and extensive, far beyond his fortune's warrant. 
 Poi)c was the tolerant yet steady adherent of 
 the most bigoted of sects ; and Cowper the 
 most bigoted and despondent sectary that ever 
 anticipated damnation to himself or others. 
 Is this harsh ? I know it is, and I do not 
 assert it as my opinion of Cowper personally, 
 but to show what might be said, with just as 
 great an appearance of truth and candour, as 
 all the odium which has been accumulated upon 
 Pope in similar speculations. Co^\'per was a 
 good man, and lived at a fortunate time for liis 
 works. 
 
 Mr Bowles, apparently not relying entu'ely 
 upon his own arguments, has, in person or by 
 proxy, brought forward the names of Southey 
 and Moore. Mr Southey ' agrees entirely with 
 Mr Bowles in his invariable principles of poetry.' 
 The least that Mr Bowles can do, in return, is 
 to approve the 'invariable principles of Mr 
 Southey.' I should have thought that the 
 word ' invariable ' might have stuck in 
 Southey 's throat, like INIacbeth's ' Amen ! ' I 
 am sure it did in mine, and I am not the least 
 consistent of the two, at least as a voter. 
 Moore (et tu, Brute !) also approves, and a Mr 
 J. Scott. There is a letter, also, of two lines 
 from a gentleman in asterisks, who, it seems, is 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 209 
 
 a poet of ' the highest rank : ' — who can this 
 be ? not my friend, Sir Walter, surely. Camp- 
 bell it can't be ; Rogers it won't be. 
 
 ' You have hit the nail in the head, and * * * * 
 [Pope, I presume] on the head also. 
 
 ' I remain yours, affectionately,^ 
 
 ' (Five Asterisks).'' 
 
 And in asterisks let him remain. Whoever 
 this person may be, he deserves, for such a 
 judgment of Midas, that ' the nail ' which Mr 
 Bowles has ' hit in the head,' should be driven 
 through his own ears ; I am sure that they are 
 long enough. 
 
 The attempt of the poetical populace of the 
 present day to obtain an ostracism against Pope, 
 is as easily accounted for as the Athenian's shell 
 against Aristides ; they are tired of hearing 
 him always called ' the Just.' They are also fight- 
 ing for life ; for, if he maintains his station, they 
 will reach their own by falling. They have 
 raised a mosque by the side of a Grecian temple 
 of the purest architecture ; and, more barbarous 
 than the barbarians from whose practice I have 
 borrowed the figure, they are not contented 
 with their own grotesque edifice, unless they 
 destroy the prior and purely beautiful fabric 
 
 1 ' I learn from some private letters of Bowles's, that 
 you were " the gentleman in asterisks." Who would have 
 believed it.' — Lord Byron's Letters to Moore (June 4, 1821). 
 
210 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 which preceded, and which shames them and 
 theirs for ever and ever. I shall be told that 
 amongst those I have been (or it may be, still 
 aum) conspicuous — true, and I am ashamed of 
 it. I have been amongst the builders of this 
 Babel, attended by a confusion of tongues, but 
 never amongst the envious destroyers of the 
 classic temple of our predecessor. I have loved 
 and honoured the fame and name of that illus- 
 trious and unrivalled man, far more than my 
 own paltry renown, and the trashy jingle of the 
 crowd of ' schools ' and upstarts, who pretend 
 to rival, or even surpass him. Sooner than a 
 single leaf should be torn from his laurel, it 
 were better that aU which these men, and that 
 I, as one of their set, have ever wiitten, should 
 
 ' Line trunks, clothe spice, or, fluttering in a row, 
 Befringe the rails of Bedlam, or Soho ! ' 
 
 There are those who will believe tliis, and 
 those who will not. You, sir, know how far 
 I am sincere, and whether my opinion, not only 
 in the short work intended for publication, and 
 in private letters which can never be pubHshed, 
 has or has not been the same. I look upon 
 this as the declining age of English poetry ; no 
 regard for others, no selfish feeling, can prevent 
 me from seeing this, and expressing the truth. 
 There can be no worse sign for the taste of the 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 211 
 
 times than the depreciation of Pope. It would 
 be better to receive for proof Mr Cobbett's 
 rough but strong attack upon Shakspeare and 
 Milton, than to allow this smooth and ' candid ' 
 undermining of the reputation of the most per- 
 fect of our poets, and the purest of our moralists. 
 On his power in the imssions, in description, in 
 the mock-heroic, I leave others to descant. I 
 take him on his strong ground, as an ethical 
 poet : in the former none excel, in the mock- 
 heroic and the ethical none equal, him ; and in 
 my mind, the latter is the highest of all poetry, 
 because it does that, in verse, which the greatest 
 of men have wished to accomplish in prose. If 
 the essence of poetry must be a lie, throw it to 
 the dogs, or banish it from your republic, as Plato 
 would have done. He who can reconcile poetry 
 with truth and wisdom, is the only true ' poet ' 
 in its real sense, ' the maker,' ' the creator,' — 
 why must this mean the ' liar,' the ' feigner,' 
 the ' tale-teller ? ' A man may make and create 
 better things than these. 
 
 I shall not presume to say that Pope is as 
 high a poet as Shakspeare and Milton, — though 
 his enemy, Warton, places him immediately 
 under them.^ I would no more say this than 
 
 1 If the opinions cited by Mr Bowles, of Dr Johnson 
 against Pope, are to be taken as decisive authority, they 
 
212 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 I would assert in the mosque (once Saint 
 Sophia's), that Socrates was a greater man than 
 Mahomet. But if I say that he is very near 
 them, it is no more than has been asserted of 
 Burns, who is supposed 
 
 ' To rival all Vjut Shakspeare's name below.' 
 
 I say nothing against this opinion. But of what 
 ' order,' according to the poetical aiistocracy, are 
 Burns's poems ? There are his opus magnum, 
 Tarn O'Shanter, a tcde ; the Cotters Saturday 
 Night, a descriptive sketch ; some others in the 
 same style : the rest are songs. So much for 
 the rank of his productions ; the rank of Burns 
 is the very first of his art. Of Pope I have 
 expressed my opinion elsewhere, as also of the 
 effect which the present attempts at poetry 
 have had upon om- literature. If any great 
 national or natural convulsion could or should 
 overwhelm your country, in such sort as to 
 sweep Great Britain from the kingdoms of the 
 earth, and leave only that, after all, the most 
 living of human things, a dead language, to be 
 
 will also hold good against Gray, Milton, Swift, Thom- 
 son, and Dryden : in that case what becomes of Gray's 
 poetical, and Milton's moral character ? even of Milton's 
 poetical character, or, indeed, of English poetry in general? 
 for Johnson strips many a leaf from every laurel. Still 
 Johnson's is the finest critical work extant, and can never 
 be read without instruction and delight. [Byron.] 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 213 
 
 studied and read, and imitated by the wise of 
 future and far generations, upon foreign shores ; 
 if your literature should become the learning of 
 mankind, divested of party cabals, temporary 
 fashions, and national pride and prejudice ; an 
 Englishman, anxious that the posterity of 
 strangers should know that there had been such 
 a thing as a British epic and tragedy, might 
 wish for the preservation of Shakspeare and 
 Milton ; but the surviving world would snatch 
 Pope from the wreck, and let the rest sink with 
 the people. He is the moral poet of all civiUsa- 
 tion ; and as such, let us hope that he will one 
 day be the national poet of mankind. He is 
 the only poet that never shocks ; the only poet 
 whose faultlessness has been made his reproach. 
 Cast your eye over his productions ; consider 
 their extent, and contemplate their variety : 
 — pastoral, passion, mock-heroic, translation, 
 satire, ethics, — aU excellent, and often perfect. 
 If his great charm be his melody, how comes 
 it that foreigners adore him, even in their 
 diluted translations? But I have made this 
 letter too long. — Give my comphments to 
 Mr Bowles. 
 
 Yours ever, very truly, 
 
 BYRON. 
 To John Murray, Esq. 
 
214 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 Post Scriptum. — Long as this letter has 
 grown, I find it necessary to append a post- 
 script ; if possible, a short one. Mr Bowles 
 denies that he has accused Pope of 'a sordid 
 money-getting passion ; ' but, he adds, ' if I 
 had ever done so, I should be glad to find 
 any testimony that might show he was not 
 so.' This testimony he may find, to his heart's 
 content, in Spence ^ and elsewhere. First, 
 there is Martha Blount, who, Mr Bowles 
 charitably says, 'probably thought he did 
 not save enough for her, as legatee.' What- 
 ever she thought upon this point, her words 
 are in Pope's favour. Then there is Alderman 
 Barber ; see Spence s Anecdotes.^ There is 
 Pope's cold answer to HaHfax^ when he pro- 
 posed a pension : his behaviom- to Craggs 
 and to Addison upon like occasions, and his 
 o'wn two lines — 
 
 ' And, thanks to Homer, since I live and thrive, 
 Indebted to no prince or peer alive ; ' 
 
 written when princes would have been proud 
 to pension, and peers to promote him, and 
 
 ^ ' Pope never flattered anj'body for money.' Spence's 
 Anecdotes, p. 308. 
 
 "Idem., p. 308. 
 
 3 December 1, 1714 (r. Pope's Works (Courthope's ed.), 
 v. 10, p. 203). 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 215 
 
 when the whole army of dunces were in array 
 against him, and would have been but too 
 happy to deprive him of this boast of inde- 
 pendence. But there is something a little 
 more serious in Mr Bowles's declaration, that 
 he ' would have spoken ' of his ' noble 
 generosity to the outcast Richard Savage,' 
 and other instances of a compassionate and 
 generous heart, ^had they occurred to his 
 recollection when he wrote.' What ! is it 
 come to this? Does Mr Bowles sit down to 
 write a minute and laboured life and edition 
 of a great poet ? Does he anatomise his 
 character, moral and poetical? Does he pre- 
 sent us with his faults and with his foibles? 
 Does he sneer at his feelings, and doubt of 
 his sincerity? Does he unfold his vanity 
 and duplicity ? and then omit the good 
 quaUties which might, in part, have 'covered 
 this multitude of sins ? ' and then plead that 
 ' they did not occur to his recollection ? ' Is 
 this the frame of mind and of memory 
 with which the illustrious dead are to be 
 approached ? If Mr Bowles, who must have 
 had access to aU the means of refresliing his 
 memory, did not recollect these facts, he is 
 unfit for his task ; but if he did recollect, 
 and omit them, I know not what he is fit 
 
2i6 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 for, but I know what would be fit for him. 
 Is the plea of 'not recollecting' such pro- 
 minent facts to be admitted ? Mr Bowles 
 has been at a public school, and as I have 
 been publicly educated also, I can sympathise 
 with his predilection. When we were in the 
 third form even, had we pleaded, on the 
 Monday morning, that we had not brought 
 up the Saturday's exercise, because 'we had 
 forgotten it,' what would have been the 
 reply? And is an excuse, wliich would not 
 be pardoned to a schoolboy, to pass current 
 in a matter which so nearly concerns the 
 fame of the first poet of his age, if not of 
 his country ? If Mr Bowles so readily forgets 
 the virtues of others, why complain so griev- 
 ously that others have a better memory for 
 his own faults ? They are but the faults of 
 an author ; while the virtues he omitted from 
 his catalogue are essential to the justice due 
 to a man. 
 
 Mr Bowles appears, indeed, to be sus- 
 ceptible beyond the pri\dlege of authorship. 
 There is a plaintive dedication to Mr Gifford, 
 in which he is made responsible for aU the 
 articles of the Quarterly. Mr Southey, it 
 seems, 'the most able and eloquent writer 
 in that Review,' approves of Mr Bowles's 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 217 
 
 publication. Now it seems to me the more 
 impartial, that notwithstanding that ' the 
 great writer of the Quarterly' entertains 
 opinions opposite to the able article on 
 Spence,^ nevertheless that essay was per- 
 mitted to appear. Is a review to be devoted 
 to the opinions of any one man? Must it 
 not vary, according to circumstances, and 
 according to the subjects to be criticised? 
 I fear that writers must take the sweets and 
 bitters of the pubHc journals as they occur, 
 and an author of so long a standing as Mr 
 Bowles might have become accustomed to 
 such incidents ; he might be angry, but not 
 astonished. I have been reviewed in the 
 Quarterly almost as often as Mr Bowles, and 
 have had as pleasant things said, and some 
 as unpleasant, as could well be pronounced. 
 In the review of The Fall of Jerusalem, it 
 is stated that I have devoted 'my powers, 
 etc. to the worst parts of Manicheism ; ' 
 which, being interpreted, means that I wor- 
 ship the devil. Now, I have neither written 
 a reply, nor complained to Gilford. I believe 
 that I observed, in a letter to you, that I 
 thought ' that the critic might have praised 
 Milman without finding it necessary to abuse 
 
 1 V. Q. Review, vol. 16, Oct. 1816. 
 II. 
 
2i8 STRICTURES ON THE LIFE 
 
 me;' but did I not add, at the same time 
 or soon after, (apropos of the note in the 
 book of Travels), that I would not, if it 
 were even in my power, have a single line 
 cancelled on my account in that nor in any 
 other publication ? Of course, I reserve to 
 myself the privilege of response when neces- 
 sary. Mr Bowles seems in a whimsical state 
 about the author of the article on Spence. 
 You know very well that I am not in your 
 confidence, nor in that of the conductor of 
 the journal. The moment I saw that article, 
 I was morally certain that I knew the author 
 'by his style.' You will tell me that I do 
 not know him : that is all as it should be ; 
 keep the secret, so shall I, though no one 
 has ever intrusted it to me. He is not the 
 person whom Mr Bowles denounces. Mr 
 Bowles's extreme sensibility reminds me of a 
 circumstance which occurred on board of a 
 frigate, in which Ifwas a passenger and guest 
 of the captain's for a considerable time. The 
 surgeon on board, a very gentlemanly young 
 man, and remarkably able in his profession, 
 wore a wig. Upon this ornament he was 
 extremely tenacious. As naval jests are some- 
 times a httle rough, his brother officers made 
 occasional allusions to this delicate appendage 
 
AND WRITINGS OF POPE 219 
 
 to the doctor's person. One day a young 
 lieutenant, in the course of a facetious dis- 
 cussion, said, ' Suppose now, doctor, I should 
 take oflF your hatJ — 'Sir,' replied the doctor, 
 'I shall talk no longer with you; you grow 
 scurrilous" He would not even admit so 
 near an approach as to the hat which pro- 
 tected it. In like manner, if any body 
 approaches Mr Bowles's laurels, even in his 
 outside capacity of an editor, 'they grow 
 scurrilous.' You say that you are about 
 to prepare an edition of Pope; you cannot 
 do better for your own credit as a publisher, 
 nor for the redemption of Pope from Mr 
 Bowles, and of the pubhc taste from rapid 
 degeneracy. 
 
VI 
 
 A LETTER TO A FRIEND OF ROBERT 
 BURNS. By William Wordsworth.^ 
 
 TO 
 JAMES GRAY, ESQ.,'' EDINBURGH, 
 
 Dear Sir, — I have carefully perused the 
 Review of the Life of your friend Robert 
 Burns,^ which you kindly transmitted to me; 
 the author has rendered a substantial service 
 to the poet's memoiy ; and the annexed lettei*s 
 are all important to the subject. After having 
 expressed this opinion, I shall not trouble you 
 
 1 ' Occasioned by an intended republication of the 
 account of the life of Burns, by Dr Currie : and of the 
 selection made by him from his letters. London : 
 Printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme & Brown, 
 Paternoster-row, 1816.' 
 
 - Afterwards the Re\^ Jas. Gray, formerly school- 
 master at Dumfries, and an old friend of Burns. He 
 died in (1830) in India, whither he had gone as the first 
 British tutor ever appointed to the charge of an Indian 
 Prince. 
 
 3 A Review of the Life of Robert Burns, and of various 
 criticisms on his character and writings, by Alexander 
 Peterkin, 1814. (W.) 
 
LETTER TO A FRIEND OF BURNS 221 
 
 by commenting upon the publication ; but will 
 confine myself to the request of Mr Gilbert 
 Burns/ that I would furnish him with my 
 notions upon the best mode of conducting the 
 defence of his brother's injured reputation ; 
 a favourable opportunity being now afforded 
 him to convey his sentiments to the world, 
 along with a republication of Dr Currie's book, 
 which he is about to superintend. From the 
 respect which I have long felt for the character 
 of the person who has thus honoured me, and 
 from the gratitude which, as a lover of poetry, 
 I owe to the genius of his departed relative, I 
 should most gladly comply with this wish ; if I 
 could hope that any suggestions of mine would 
 be of service to the cause. But, really, I feel 
 it a thing of much delicacy, to give advice upon 
 this occasion, as it appears to me, mainly, not 
 a question of opinion, or of taste, but a matter 
 of conscience. Mr Gilbert Burns must know, 
 if any man living does, what his brother was ; 
 and no one will deny that he, who possesses 
 this knowledge, is a man of unimpeachable 
 veracity. He has already spoken to the world 
 in contradiction of the injurious assertions that 
 have been made, and has told why he forbore 
 
 ^ The poet's younger brother, born in 1760, who long 
 outlived him, dying in 1827. 
 
222 A LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 to do this on their first appearance. If it 
 be deemed advisable to reprint Dr Currie's 
 narrative, without striking out such passages 
 as the author, if he were now ahve, would 
 probably be happy to efface, let there be notes 
 attached to the most obnoxious of them, in 
 which the misrepresentations may be corrected, 
 and the exaggerations exposed. 
 
 I recommend this course if Dr Currie's Life 
 is to be repubhshed ^ as it now stands, in 
 connection with the poems and letters, and 
 especially if prefixed to them ; but, in my 
 judgment it would be best to copy the example 
 which Mason has given in his second edition of 
 Gray's Works.^ 
 
 There, inverting the order which had been 
 properly adopted when the Life and Letters 
 were new matter, the poems are placed first ; 
 and the rest takes its place as subsidiary to 
 them. If this were done in the intended 
 edition of Burns's works, I should strenuously 
 recommend, that a concise Hfe of the poet be 
 prefixed, from the pen of Gilbert Burns, who 
 has already given public proof how well 
 qualified he is for the undertaking. I know 
 
 1 It was eventually so republished in 1820, without 
 adopting Wordsworth's suggestion. 
 
 2 In 1776. 
 
OF ROBERT BURNS 223 
 
 no better model as to proportion, and the 
 degree of detail required, nor, indeed, as to 
 the general execution, than the Ufe of Milton 
 by Fenton,^ prefixed to many editions of the 
 Paradise Lost. But a more copious narrative 
 would be expected from a brother ; and 
 some allowance ought to be made, in this 
 and other respects for an expectation so 
 natural.^ 
 
 In this prefatory memoir, when the author 
 has prepared himself by reflecting that fraternal 
 partiality may have rendered him in some 
 points not so trust-worthy as others less 
 favoured by opportunity, it will be incumbent 
 upon him to proceed candidly and openly, as 
 far as such a procedure will tend to restore to 
 liis brother that portion of public estimation, 
 of which he appears to have been unjustly 
 deprived. Nay, when we recal to mind the 
 black things that have been written of this 
 great man, and the frightful ones that have 
 been insinuated against him ; and, as far as 
 the pubhc knew, till lately, without complaint, 
 remonstrance, or disavowal from his nearest 
 
 1 Elijah Fenton, Pope's collaborator and imitator. His 
 life of Milton first appeared in the ed. of 1725. 
 
 ^ From whatever cause it may have been, Gilbert 
 Burns never wrote a memoir ; and his notes, contributed 
 finally to Currie's edition, were very few. 
 
2 24 A LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 relatives ; I am not sure that it would not be 
 best, at this day, explicitly to declare to what 
 degree Robert Burns had given way to per- 
 nicious habits, and, as nearly as may be, to fix 
 the point to which his moral character had 
 been degraded. It is a disgraceful feature of 
 the times that this measure should be necessary : 
 most painful to think that a brother should 
 have such an office to perform. But, if Gilbert 
 Burns be conscious that the subject will bear 
 to be so treated, he has no choice ; the duty 
 has been imposed upon him by the errors into 
 which the former biographer has fallen, in 
 respect to the very principles upon which his 
 work ought to have been conducted. 
 
 I weU remember the acute sorrow with 
 which, by my own fireside, I first perused 
 Dr Currie's narrative, and some of the letters, 
 particularly of those composed in the latter 
 part of the poet's Hfe. If my pity for Burns 
 was extreme, this pity did not preclude a 
 strong indignation, of which he was not the 
 object. If, said I, it were in the power of 
 a biographer to relate the truth, the ivhole 
 truth, and nothing hut the truth, the friends 
 and surviving kindred of the deceased, for 
 the sake of general benefit to mankind, might 
 endure that such heart-rending communica- 
 
OF ROBERT BURNS 225 
 
 tion should be made to the world. But in 
 no case is this possible; and in the present, 
 the opportunities of directly acquiring other 
 than superficial knowledge have been most 
 scanty; for the writer has barely seen the 
 person who is the subject of his tale : ^ nor 
 did his avocations allow him to take the pains 
 necessary for ascertaining what portion of the 
 information conveyed to him was authentic.^ 
 So much for facts and actions ; and to what 
 purpose relate them even were they true, if 
 the narrative cannot be heard without extreme 
 pain; unless they are placed in such a light, 
 and brought forward in such order, that they 
 shall explain their own laws, and leave the 
 reader in as httle uncertainty as the mysteries 
 of our nature will allow, respecting the spirit 
 from which they derived their existence, and 
 which governed the agent? But hear on this 
 pathetic and awful subject, the poet himself, 
 pleading for those who have transgressed ! 
 
 1 Dr Currie in his Dedication says he had a ' single 
 interview,' in the summer of 1792. 
 
 2 Much of Currie's information came from John Syme, 
 stamp distributor, a fellow-member with Burns at a small 
 club in Dumfries. A letter of Syme's, quoted in extenso 
 by Currie, vol. 1 v. p. 206-13 (ed. 1800) was probably one 
 of the passages which most roused Wordsworth's in- 
 dignation. 
 
226 A LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 ' One point must still be greatly dark, 
 
 The moving v)hy they do it, 
 And just as lamely can ye mark 
 How far perhaps they rue it. 
 
 ' Who made the heart, 'tis he alone 
 
 Decidedly can try us ; 
 He knows each chord— its various tone, 
 Each spring, its various bias. 
 
 * Then at the balance let's be mute, 
 
 We never can adjust it ; 
 What's done we partly may compute, 
 But know not what's resisted.' ^ 
 
 How happened it that the recollection of this 
 affecting passage did not check so amiable a 
 man as Dr Currie, while he was revealing to 
 the world the infirmities of its author ? He 
 must have known enough of human nature 
 to be assured that men would be eager to 
 sit in judgment, and pronounce decidedly 
 upon the guilt or innocence of Burns by his 
 testimony ; nay, that there were multitudes 
 whose main interest in the allegations would 
 be derived from the incitements which they 
 found therein to undertake this presumptuous 
 office. And where hes the collateral benefit, 
 or what ultimate advantage can be expected 
 to counteract the injury that the many are 
 thus tempted to do to their own minds ; and 
 
 ^ Concluding lines of Burns's " Address to the unco guid." 
 
OF ROBERT BURNS 227 
 
 to compensate the sorrow which must be fixed 
 in the hearts of the considerate few, by 
 language that proclaims so much and pro- 
 vokes conjectures as unfavourable as imagina- 
 tion can furnish? Here, said I, being moved 
 beyond what would become me to express, 
 here is a revolting account of a man of 
 exquisite genius, and confessedly of many 
 high moral quahties, sunk into the lowest 
 depths of vice and misery ! But the painful 
 story, notwithstanding its minuteness, is in- 
 complete, — in essentials it is deficient ; so that 
 the most attentive and sagacious reader cannot 
 explain how a mind, so well established by 
 knowledge, fell, and continued to fall, with- 
 out power to prevent or retard its own ruin. 
 
 Would a bosom friend of the author, his 
 counsellor and confessor, have told such 
 things, if true, as this book contains? and 
 who, but one possessed of the intimate know- 
 ledge which none but a bosom friend can 
 acquire, could have been justified in making 
 these avowals? Such a one, himself a pure 
 spirit, having accompanied, as it were, upon 
 wings the pilgrim along the sorrowful road 
 which he trod on foot ; such a one, neither 
 hurried down by its shppery descents, nor 
 entangled among its thorns, nor perplexed by 
 
228 A LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 its windings, nor discomfited by its founderous 
 passages — for the instruction of others — might 
 liave delineated, almost as in a map, the way 
 which the afflicted pilgrim had pursued till 
 the sad close of his diversified journey. In 
 this manner the venerable spirit of Isaac 
 Walton was qualified to have retraced the 
 unsteady course of a highly gifted man, who, 
 in this lamentable point, and in versatility 
 of genius, bore no unobvious resemblance to 
 the Scottish bard ; I mean his friend Cotton,^ 
 whom, notwithstanding all that the sage must 
 have disapproved in his Life, he honoured with 
 the title of son. Nothing like this, however, 
 has the biographer of Burns accomplished; 
 and, with liis means of obsen'ation, copious 
 as in some respects they were, it would have 
 been absurd to attempt it. The only motive, 
 therefore, which could authorise the writing 
 and publishing matter so distressing to read 
 — is wantmg ! 
 
 Nor is Dr Curries performance censurable 
 from these considerations alone; for infonna- 
 tion, which would have been of absolute worth 
 if in his capacity of biographer and editor he 
 
 ^ Cotton was certainly improvident, and fond of ^ood 
 liquor ; but Walton's feeling about his failings was hardly 
 what Wordsworth suggests. 
 
OF ROBERT BURNS 229 
 
 had known when to stop short, is rendered un- 
 satisfactory and inefl&cacious through the absence 
 of this reserve, and from being coupled with 
 statements of improbable and irreconcilable 
 facts. We have the author's letters discharged 
 upon us in showers ; but how few readers will 
 take the trouble of comparing those letters with 
 each other, and with the other documents of 
 the publication, in order to come at a genuine 
 knowledge of the writer's character ! The life 
 of Johnson, by Boswell, had broken through 
 many pre-existing delicacies, and afforded the 
 British public an opportunity of acquiring ex- 
 perience, which before it had happily wanted ; 
 nevertheless, at the time when the ill-selected 
 medley of Burns's correspondence first appeared, 
 little progress had been made (nor is it likely 
 that, by the mass of mankind, much ever will 
 be made) in determining what portion of these 
 confidential communications escapes the pen in 
 courteous, yet often innocent compliance — to 
 gratify the several tastes of correspondents ; 
 and as little towards distinguishing opinions and 
 sentiments uttered for the momentary amuse- 
 ment merely of the writer's own fancy, from 
 those which his judgment deliberately approves, 
 and his heart faithfully cherishes. But the sub- 
 ject of this book was a man of extraordinary 
 
230 A LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 genius; whose birth, education, and employ- 
 ments had placed and kept him in a situation 
 far below that in which the writers and readers 
 of expensive volumes are usually found. Critics 
 upon works of fiction have laid it down as a 
 rule that remoteness of place, in fixing the 
 choice of a subject, and in prescribing the mode 
 of treating it, is equal in effect to distance of 
 time ; restraints may be thrown off accordingly. 
 Judge then of the delusions which artificial dis- 
 tinctions impose, when to a man hke Dr Currie, 
 writing with views so honourable, the social 
 condition of the individual of whom he was 
 treating,^ could seem to place him at such a 
 distance from the exalted reader, that ceremony 
 might be discarded with him, and his memory 
 sacrificed, as it were, almost '^-itliout compimc- 
 tion. The poet was laid where these injuries 
 could not reach him ; but he had a parent, I 
 understand, an admii-able woman, still surviv- 
 ing ; 2 a brother like Gilbert Burns ! a widow 
 estimable for her virtues ; and childi-en,' at that 
 time infants, with the world before them, which 
 they must face to obtain a maintenance ; who 
 
 1 One of Dr Currie's favourite adjectives, in speaking 
 of Burns's people, condition and so forth, is ' humble.' 
 " She lived with Gilbert Burns, and died in 1820. 
 3 Five in all, the youngest was a posthumous child. 
 
OF ROBERT BURNS 231 
 
 remembered their father probably with the 
 tenderest affection ; and whose opening minds, 
 as their years advanced, would become con- 
 scious of so many reasons for admiring him. 
 Ill-fated child of nature, too frequently thine 
 own enemy, — unhappy favourite of genius, too 
 often misguided, — this is indeed to be ' crushed 
 beneath the furrow's weight ! ' 
 
 Why, sir, do I write to you at this length, 
 when all that I had to express in direct answer 
 to the request, which occasioned this letter, lay 
 in such narrow compass ? Because, having 
 entered upon the subject, — I am unable to quit 
 it ! — Your feelings, I trust, go along with mine ; 
 and, rising from this individual case to a general 
 view of the subject, you will probably agree 
 with me in the opinion that biography, though 
 differing in some essentials from works of fiction, 
 is nevertheless, like them, an art — an art, the 
 laws of which are determined by the imperfec- 
 tions of our nature, and the constitution of 
 society. Truth is not here, as in the sciences, 
 and in natural philosophy, to be sought without 
 scruple, and promulgated for its own sake, upon 
 the mere chance of its being serviceable ; but 
 only for obviously justifying purposes, moral or 
 intellectual. 
 
 Silence is a privilege of the grave, a right of 
 
232 A LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 the departed ; let him, therefore, who infringes 
 that right, by speaking publicly of, for, or 
 against, those who cannot speak for themselves, 
 take heed that he opens not his mouth with- 
 out a sufficient sanction. De mortuis nil nisi 
 bonum, is a rule in which these sentiments have 
 been pushed to an extreme that proves how 
 deeply humanity is interested in maintaining 
 them. And it was wise to announce the pre- 
 cept thus absolutely ; both because there exist 
 in that same nature, by which it has been 
 dictated, so many temptations to disregard it ; 
 and because there are powers and influences, 
 within and without us, that will prevent its 
 being literally fulfilled, to the suppression of 
 profitable truth. Penalties of law, conventions 
 of manners, and personal fear, protect the 
 reputation of the li^^ng : and something of this 
 protection is extended to the recently dead, who 
 survive, to a certain degree, in their kindred 
 and friends. Few are so insensible as not to 
 feel this, and not to be actuated by the feeling. 
 But only to philosophy enlightened by the afifec- 
 tions does it belong justly to estimate the claims 
 of the deceased on the one hand, and of the 
 present age and future generations, on the other ; 
 and to strike a balance between them. Such 
 philosophy runs a risk of becoming extinct 
 
OF ROBERT BURNS 233 
 
 among us, if the coarse intrusions into the re- 
 cesses, the gross breaches upon the sanctities, 
 of domestic life, to which we have lately been 
 more and more accustomed, are to be regarded 
 as indications of a vigorous state of public 
 feeling — favourable to the maintenance of the 
 liberties of our country. — Intelligent lovers of 
 freedom are from necessity bold and hardy 
 lovers of truth ; but, according to the measure 
 in which their love is intelligent, is it attended 
 with a finer discrimination, and a more sensitive 
 delicacy. The wise and good (and all others 
 being lovers of licence rather than of liberty are 
 in fact slaves) respect, as one of the noblest 
 characteristics of Englishmen, that jealousy of 
 famiHar approach, which, while it contributes 
 to the maintenance of private dignity, is one of 
 the most efficacious guardians of rational public 
 freedom. 
 
 The general obhgation upon which I have 
 insisted, is especially binding upon those who 
 undertake the biography of authors. Assuredly, 
 there is no cause why the lives of that class of 
 men should be pried into with the same dihgent 
 curiosity, and laid open with the same disregard 
 of reserve, which may sometimes be expedient in 
 composing the history of men who have borne 
 an active part in the world. Such thorough 
 
 II. P 
 
2^4 A LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 knowledge of the good and bad qualities of 
 these latter, as can only be obtained by a 
 scrutiny of their private lives, conduces to ex- 
 plain not only their own public conduct, but 
 that of those with whom they have acted. 
 Nothing of this applies to authors, considered 
 merely as authors. Our business is with their 
 books, — to understand and to enjoy them. 
 And, of poets more especially, it is true — that, 
 if their works be good, they contain within 
 themselves all that is necessary to their being 
 comprehended and reUshed. It should seem 
 that the ancients thought in this manner ; for of 
 the eminent Greek and Roman poets, few and 
 scanty memorials were, I believe, ever prepared ; 
 and fewer stiU are preserved. It is delightful 
 to read what, in the happy exercise of his own 
 genius, Horace chooses to communicate of 
 himself and his friends ; but I confess I am 
 not so much a lover of knowledge, independent 
 of its quahty, as to make it Hkely that it would 
 much rejoice me, were I to hear that records 
 of the Sabine poet and his contemporaries, 
 composed upon the BosweUian plan, had been 
 unearthed among the ruins of Herculaneum. 
 You will interpret what I am writing, liber- 
 ally. With respect to the Hght wliich such 
 a discovery might throw upon Roman manners, 
 
OF ROBERT BURNS 235 
 
 there would be reason to desire it ; but I 
 should dread to disfigure the beautiful ideal 
 of the memories of those illustrious persons 
 with incongruous features, and to sully the 
 imaginative purity of their classical works 
 with gross and trivial recollections. The least 
 weighty objection to heterogeneous details, is 
 that they are mainly superfluous, and therefore 
 an incumbrance. 
 
 But you will perhaps accuse me of refining 
 too much ; and it is, I own, comparatively of 
 httle importance, while we are engaged in 
 reading the Iliad, the Eneid, the tragedies of 
 Othello and King Lear, whether the authors of 
 these poems were good or bad men ; whether 
 they lived happily or miserably. Should a 
 thought of the kind cross our minds, there 
 would be no doubt, if irresistible external 
 evidence did not decide the question unfavour- 
 ably, that men of such transcendent genius 
 were both good and happy; and if, unfor- 
 tunately, it had been on record that they 
 were otherwise, sympathy with the fate of 
 their fictitious personages would banish the 
 unwelcome truth whenever it obtruded itself, 
 so that it would but slightly disturb our 
 pleasure. 
 
 Far otherwise is it with that class of poets. 
 
236 A LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 the principal charm of whose writings depends 
 upon tlie familiar knowledge which they convey 
 of the personal feehngs of their authors. This 
 is eminently the case with the effusions of 
 Burns; — in tlie small quantity of naiTative 
 that he has given, he himself bears no incon- 
 siderable part ; and he has produced no drama. 
 Ncitlier the subjects of his poems, nor his 
 manner of handling them, allow us long to 
 forget their author. On the basis of his own 
 character Burns has reared a poetic one, which 
 with more or less distinctness presents itself to 
 view in almost eveiy part of his earlier, and, 
 in my estimation, his most valuable verses. 
 This poetic fabric, dug out of the quarry of 
 genuine humanity, is auy and spiritual : — and 
 though the materials, in some parts, are coarse, 
 and the disposition is often fantastic and irre- 
 gular, yet the whole is agreeable and strikingly 
 attractive. Plague, then, upon your remorse- 
 less hunters after matter of fact (who, after all, 
 rank among the blmdest of human beings) 
 when they would con\ince you that the foun- 
 dations of this admirable edifice are hollow ; 
 and that its frame is unsound ! Granting that 
 aU which has been raked up to the prejudice 
 of Burns were literally true ; and that it added, 
 which it does not, to our better understanding 
 
OF ROBERT BURNS 237 
 
 of human nature and human Hfe (for that 
 genius is not incompatible with vice, and that 
 vice leads to misery — the more acute from the 
 sensibilities which are the elements of genius — 
 we needed not those communications to inform 
 us), how poor would have been the compen- 
 sation for the deduction made, by this extrinsic 
 knowledge, from the intrinsic efficacy of his 
 poetry — to please, and to instruct ! 
 
 In illustration of this sentiment, permit me 
 to remind you that it is the privilege of poetic 
 genius to catch, under certain restrictions, of 
 which perhaps at the time of its being exerted 
 it is but dimly conscious, a spirit of pleasure 
 wherever it can be found, — in the walks of 
 nature, and in the business of men. — The poet, 
 trusting to primary instincts, luxuriates among 
 the fehcities of love and wine, and is en- 
 raptured while he describes the fairer aspects 
 of war : nor does he shrink from the company 
 of the passion of love though immoderate — 
 from convivial pleasure though intemperate — 
 nor from the presence of war though savage, 
 and recognised as the handmaid of desolation. 
 Frequently and admirably has Burns given 
 way to these impulses of nature; both with 
 reference to himself and in describing the con- 
 dition of others. Who, but some impenetrable 
 
238 A LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 dunce or narrow-minded puritan in works of 
 art, ever read without delight the picture 
 which he has drawn of the convivial exalta- 
 tion of the rustic adventurer, Tarn o' Shanter ? 
 The poet fears not to tell the reader in the 
 outset that his hero was a desperate and 
 sottish drunkard, whose excesses were frequent 
 as his opportunities. This reprobate sits down 
 to his cups, while the storm is roaring, and 
 heaven and earth are in confusion ; — the night 
 is driven on by song and tumultuous noise — 
 laughter and jest thicken as the beverage im- 
 proves upon the palate — conjugal fidelity archly 
 bends to the service of general benevolence — 
 selfishness is not absent, but wearing the mask 
 of social cordiality — and, wliile these various 
 elements of humanity are blended into one 
 proud and happy composition of elated spirits, 
 the anger of the tempest without doors only 
 heightens and sets ofi" the enjoyment within. — 
 I pity him who cannot perceive that, in aU 
 this, though there was no moral purpose, there 
 is a moral effect. 
 
 Kings may be blest, but Tam was gloi'ious, 
 O'er a' the ills o' life victorious. 
 
 Wliat a lesson do these words convey of 
 charitable indulgence for the vicious habits of 
 the principal actor in tliis scene, and of those 
 
OF ROBERT BURNS 239 
 
 who resemble him ! — Men who to the rigidly 
 virtuous are objects almost of loathing, and 
 whom therefore they cannot serve ! The poet, 
 penetrating the unsightly and disgusting sur- 
 faces of things, has unveiled with exquisite 
 skill the finer ties of imagination and feeUng, 
 that often bind these beings to practices pro- 
 ductive of so much unhappiness to themselves, 
 and to those whom it is their duty to cherish ; 
 — and, as far as he puts the reader into pos- 
 session of this intelUgent sympathy, he qualifies 
 him for exercising a salutary influence over 
 the minds of those who are thus deplorably 
 enslaved. 
 
 Not less successfully does Burns avail himself 
 of his own character and situation in society, to 
 construct out of them a poetic self, — introduced 
 as a dramatic personage — for the purpose of 
 inspiriting his incidents, diversifying his pictures, 
 recommending his opinions, and giving point to 
 his sentiments. 
 
 His brother can set me right if I am mis- 
 taken when I express a belief that, at the time 
 when he wrote his stoiy of 'Death and Dr 
 Hornbook,'^ he had very rarely been intoxi- 
 cated, or perhaps even much exhilarated by 
 liquor. Yet how happily does he lead his 
 
 1 In 1785 ; when he was twenty-six. 
 
240 A LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 reader into that track of sensations ! and with 
 what Hvely humour does he describe the dis- 
 order of his senses and the confusion of his 
 understanding, put to test by a deliberate 
 attempt to count the horns of the moon ! 
 
 ' But whether she had three or four 
 He could na tell.' 
 
 Behold a sudden apparition that disperses 
 this disorder, and in a moment chills him into 
 possession of himself ! Coming upon no more 
 important mission than the grisly phantom was 
 charged with, what mode of introduction could 
 have been more efficient or apj^ropriate ? 
 
 But, in those early poems, through the veil 
 of assumed habits and pretended quahties, 
 enough of the real man appears to shew that he 
 was conscious of sufficient cause to dread his 
 own passions, and to bewail his errors ! We 
 have rejected as false sometimes in the letter, 
 and of necessity as false in the spu'it, many of 
 the testimonies that othei*s have borne against 
 him : — but, by his own hand — in words the im- 
 port of which cannot be mistaken — it has been 
 recorded that the order of his life but faintly 
 corresponded with the clearness of his views. 
 
 It is probable that he would have proved 
 a still greater poet if, by strength of reason, he 
 could have controlled the propensities which his 
 
OF ROBERT BURNS 241 
 
 sensibility engendered; but he would have 
 been a poet of a different class : and certain it 
 is, had that desirable restraint been early estab- 
 lished, many peculiar beauties which enrich his 
 verses could never have existed, and many 
 accessary influences, which contribute greatly 
 to their effect, would have been wanting. For 
 instance, the momentous truth of the passage 
 already quoted, ' One point must still be 
 greatly dark,' etc., could not possibly have 
 been conveyed with such pathetic force by any 
 poet that ever lived, speaking in his own voice ; 
 unless it were felt that, like Burns, he was a 
 man who preached from the text of his own 
 errors ; and whose wisdom, beautiful as a 
 flower that might have risen from seed sown 
 from above, was in fact a scion from the root 
 of personal suffering. Whom did the poet in- 
 tend should be thought of as occupying that 
 grave over which, after modestly setting forth 
 the moral discernment and warm affections of 
 its 'poor inhabitant,' it is supposed to be in- 
 scribed that 
 
 Thoughtless follies laid him low, 
 
 And stained his name. 
 
 Who but himself, — himself anticipating the too 
 probable termination of his own course ? 
 Here is a sincere and solemn avowal — a 
 
242 A LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 public declaration from his own will — a con- 
 fession at once devout, poetical, and human 
 — a history in the shape of a prophecy! 
 What more was required of the biographer 
 than to have put his seal to the writing, testi- 
 fying that the foreboding had been realized, 
 and that the record was authentic? — Last- 
 ingly is it to be regretted in respect to this 
 memorable being, that inconsiderate intrusion 
 has not left us at liberty to enjoy his mirth, 
 or his love ; his wisdom or his wit ; without 
 an admixture of useless, irksome, and painful 
 details, that take from his poems so much 
 of that right — which, with all his careless- 
 ness, and frequent breaches of self-respect, 
 he was not negligent to maintain for them — 
 the right of imparting solid instruction through 
 the medium of unalloyed pleasm-e. 
 
 You will have noticed that my observations 
 have been liitherto confined to Dr Currie's 
 book : ^ if, by fraternal piety, the poison can 
 be sucked out of this wound, those inflicted 
 by meaner hands may be left to heal of them- 
 selves. Of the other writers who have eiven 
 their names, only one lays claim to even a 
 slight acquaintance ^vith the author, whose 
 
 1 V. the memoir by Dr Currie, vol. i., p. 206, &c. 
 
OF ROBERT BURNS 243 
 
 moral character they take upon them publicly 
 to anatomize. 
 
 The Edinburgh reviewer ^ — and him I single 
 out because the author of the vindication of 
 Burns has treated his offences with compara- 
 tive indulgence, to which he has no claim, and 
 which, from whatever cause it may arise, has 
 interfered with the dispensation of justice — 
 the Edinburgh reviewer thus writes : ^ 
 
 'The leading vice in Burns's character, and 
 the cardinal deformity, indeed, of all his 
 productions, was his contempt, or affecta- 
 tion of contempt, for prudence, decency, and 
 regularity, and his admiration of thoughtless- 
 ness, oddity, and vehement sensibility : his belief, 
 in short, in the dispensing power of genius 
 and social feeling in all matters of moraUty 
 and common sense ; ' adding, that these vices 
 and erroneous notions 'have communicated 
 to a great part of his productions a char- 
 acter of immorality at once contemptible and 
 hateful.' We are afterwards told, that he 
 is perpetually making a parade of his thought- 
 
 ^ The reviewer was Jeffrey himself. His review of 
 Burns appeared in January 1809 ; and dealt specially with 
 the Reliques of Burns, pub. by Cromek, 1808. 
 
 2 From Mr Peterkin's pamphlet, who vouches for the 
 accuracy of his citations ; omitting, however, to apologize 
 for their length. (W.) [For the title of the pamphlet, 
 vide p. 220]. 
 
244 A LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 lessness, inflammability, and imprudence ; and, 
 in the next paragraph, that he is perpetually 
 doing something else ; i.e., ' boasting of his 
 own independence.' — Marvellous address in 
 the commission of faults ! not less than Caesar 
 shewed in the management of business ; who, 
 it is said could dictate to three secretaries 
 upon three several affairs, at one and the same 
 moment ! But, to be serious. When a man, 
 self-elected into the office of a public judge 
 of the literature and life of his contemporaries, 
 can have the audacity to go these lengths in 
 framing a summary of the contents of volumes 
 that are scattered over every quarter of the 
 globe, and extant in almost every cottage in 
 Scotland, to give the he to his laboiu*s ; we 
 must not wonder if in the plenitude of his 
 concern for the interests of abstract moraUty, 
 the infatuated slanderer should have found 
 no obstacle to prevent him fi-om insinuating 
 that the poet, whose writings are to this 
 degree stained and disfigured, was ' one of 
 the sons of fancy and of song, who spend in 
 vain superfluities the money that belongs of 
 right to the pale industrious tradesman and 
 his famishing infants; and who rave about 
 friendship and philosophy in a tavern while 
 their wives' hearts,' etc., etc. 
 
OF ROBERT BURNS 245 
 
 It is notorious that this persevering Aris- 
 tarch,^ as often as a work of original genius 
 comes before him, avails himself of that oppor- 
 tunity to re-proclaim to the world the narrow 
 range of his own comprehension. The happy 
 self-complacency, the unsuspecting vain-glory, 
 and the cordial honhommie, with which this 
 part of his duty is performed, do not leave 
 him free to complain of being hardly dealt 
 with if any one should declare the truth, by 
 pronouncing much of the foregoing attack 
 upon the intellectual and moral character of 
 Burns, to be the trespass (for reasons that 
 will shortly appear, it cannot be called the 
 venial trespass) of a mind obtuse, superficial, 
 and inept. What portion of mahgnity such a 
 mind is susceptible of, the judicious admirers 
 of the poet, and the discerning friends of the 
 man will not trouble themselves to enquire ; 
 but they will wish that this evil principle had 
 
 1 A friend who chances to be present while the author 
 is correcting the proof sheets, observes that Aristarchus 
 is libelled by this application of his name, and advises 
 that ' Zoilus ' should be substituted. The question be- 
 tween spite and presumption ; and it is not easy to decide 
 upon a case where the claims of each party are so strong : 
 but the name of Aristarch, who, simple man, would allow 
 no verse to pass for Homer's which he did not approve of, 
 is retained, for reasons that will be deemed cogent. 
 (W.) 
 
246 A LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 possessed more sway than they are at liberty 
 to assign to it ; the offender's condition would 
 not then have been so hopeless. For maUgnity 
 selects its diet ; but where is to be found the 
 nourishment from which vanity will revolt? 
 Malignity may be appeased by triumphs real 
 or supposed, and will then sleep, or yield its 
 place to a repentance producing dispositions 
 of good wiU, and desires to make amends for 
 past injury ; but vanity is restless, reckless, 
 intractable, unappeasable, insatiable. Fortu- 
 nate is it for the world when this spirit in- 
 cites only to actions that meet ^vith an ade- 
 quate punishment in derision ; such, as in a 
 scheme of poetical justice, would be aptly 
 requited by assigning to the agents, when 
 they quit this lower world, a station in that 
 not uncomfortable limbo — the Paradise of 
 Fools ! But, assuredly, we shall have here 
 another proof that ridicule is not the test 
 of truth, if it prevent us from percei\ing, 
 that depravity has no ally more active, more 
 inveterate, nor, from the difficulty of divining 
 to what kind and degree of extravagance it 
 may prompt, more pernicious than self-conceit. 
 Where this alliance is too obvious to be dis- 
 puted, the culprit ought not to be allowed the 
 benefit of contempt — as a shelter from detesta- 
 
OF ROBERT BURNS 247 
 
 tion ; much less should he be permitted to 
 plead, in excuse for his transgressions, that 
 especial malevolence had little or no part in 
 them. 
 
 It is not recorded, that the ancient, who set 
 fire to the temple of Diana, had a particular 
 dislike to the goddess of chastity, or held idol- 
 atry in abhorrence. He was a fool, an egregious 
 fool, but not the less, on that account, a most 
 odious monster. The tyrant who is described 
 as having rattled his chariot along a bridge of 
 brass over the heads of his subjects, was, no 
 doubt, inwardly laughed at ; but what if this 
 mock Jupiter, not satisfied with an empty noise 
 of his own making, had amused himself with 
 throwing fire-brands upon the house-tops, as a 
 substitute for lightning ; and, from his elevation, 
 had hurled stones upon the heads of his people, 
 to show that he was a master of the destructive 
 bolt, as well as of the harmless voice of the 
 thunder ! — The lovers of all that is honourable 
 to humanity have recently had occasion to re- 
 joice over the downfall of an intoxicated despot, 
 whose vagaries furnish more solid materials by 
 which the philosopher will exemplify how strict 
 is the connection between the ludicrously, and 
 the terribly fantastic. We know, also, that 
 Robespierre was one of the vainest men that 
 
248 A LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 the most vain country upon earth has produced ; 
 — and from this passion, and from that cowar- 
 dice which naturally connects itself with it, 
 flowed the horrors of his administration. It is a 
 descent, which I fear you wiU scarcely pardon, 
 to compare these redoubtable enemies of man- 
 kind with the anonymous conductor of a perish- 
 able publication. But the moving spirit is the 
 same in them all ; and, as far as difference of 
 circumstances, and disparity of powers, wiU 
 allow, manifests itself in the same way; by 
 professions of reverence for truth, and concern 
 for duty — carried to the giddiest heights of 
 ostentation, while practice seems to have no 
 other reliance than on the omnipotence of 
 falsehood. 
 
 The transition from a vindication of Robert 
 Burns, to these hints for a picture of the in- 
 tellectual deformity of one who has grossly 
 outraged his memory,^ is too natural to require 
 an apology ; but I feel, sir, that I stand in need 
 of indulgence for having detamed you so long. 
 Let me beg that you would impart to any 
 judicious friends of the poet as much of the 
 
 1 Jeffrey, at the end of his review, has a characteristic 
 thrust at Wordsworth, under Burns's arm ; so invites a 
 quarrel, not for the first time ; v. Edin. Review, Jan. 
 1809, p. 276. 
 
OF ROBERT BURNS 249 
 
 contents of these pages as you think will be 
 serviceable to the cause ; but do not give pub- 
 licity to any portion of them, unless it is thought 
 probable that an open circulation of the whole 
 may be useful. ^ The subject is delicate, and 
 some of the opinions are of a kind, which if 
 torn away from the trunk that supports them, 
 will be apt to wither, and, in that state to con- 
 tract poisonous qualities ; like the branches of 
 the yew, which, while united by a living spirit 
 to their native tree, are neither noxious nor 
 without beauty ; but being dissevered and cast 
 upon the ground, become deadly to the cattle 
 that incautiously feed upon them. 
 
 To Mr Gilbert Burns especially, let my sen- 
 timents be conveyed, with my sincere respects, 
 and best wishes for the success of his praise- 
 worthy enterprize. And if, through modest 
 apprehension, he should doubt of his own 
 ability to do justice to his brother's memory, 
 let him take encouragement from the assurance 
 that the most odious part of the charges owed 
 its credit to the silence of those who were 
 deemed best entitled to speak; and who, it 
 was thought would not have been mute, had 
 they believed they could speak beneficially. 
 
 ^ It was deemed that it would be so, and the letter is 
 published accordingly. (W.) 
 
 II. Q 
 
250 LETTER TO A FRIEND OF BURNS 
 
 Moreover, it may be relied on as a general truth, 
 which will not escape his recollection, that 
 tasks of this kind are not so arduous as to those 
 who are tenderly concerned in their issue they 
 may at first appear to be ; for, if the many 
 be hasty to condemn, there is a re-action of 
 generosity which stimulates them — when forc- 
 ibly summoned — to redress the wrong; and, 
 for the sensible part of mankind, they are 
 neither dull to understand, nor slow to make 
 allowance for the aberrations of men, whose 
 intellectual powers do honour to their species. 
 I am dear Sir, 
 
 Respectfiilly yours, 
 WILLIA:M WORDSWORTH. 
 
 Rtdal Mount, January 1816. 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 TWO PASSAGES FROM THE FIRST OF 
 'TWO LETTERS TO THE RIGHT 
 HONOURABLE LORD BYRON.' By 
 the Rev. W. L. Bowles.^ 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 Home Tooke, if I remember right, began his 
 well-known letter to Junius in these words : 
 * Tragedy, Comedy and Farce, — Junius, 
 Wilkes and Foote, — against one poor parson 
 are fearful odds.' So I might say. Lord Byron, 
 and my two late assailants, — ApoUo, Midas 
 and Punch, — are indeed fearful odds against 
 a country clerk and provincial editor. 
 
 But to be more courtly, in approaching your 
 Lordship as a controversialist upon any point, 
 
 ^ ' In answer to his Lordship's letter to , on the 
 
 Rev. W. L. Bowles's Strictures on the life and writings 
 of Pope : more particularly on the question whether 
 Poetry he more immediately indebted to what is sublime or 
 beautiful in the Works of Nature, or the Works of Art ? 
 ' He that plays " at Bowles," must expect Rubbers.' 
 
 — Old Proverb. 
 ' Nature must give way to Art ! ' 
 
 — (See Pope's Works). 
 Song, by a Person of Quality. London : — 1821.' 
 
 251 
 
252 PASSAGES FROM LETTERS 
 
 I am well aware of the great talents opposed to 
 me. I have just read your remarks (addressed 
 to a friend) on my Life of Pope, on the first 
 part of my Vindication in the Pamphleteer, 
 and on my Principles of Poetical Criticism, 
 which I had called {foolishly, in your Lord- 
 ship's opinion) Invariabli:. 
 
 I thank you, cordially, for this opportunity of 
 explaining my sentiments, which I know you 
 would not intentionally pervert ; for the flat- 
 tering terms in which you have spoken of me 
 personally ; and, most of all, for the honourable 
 and open manner in which you have met the 
 questions on which we are at issue. 
 
 The late contest in which I have been in- 
 volved, with those of a character so opposite, 
 has tended to make this contrast of m-banity 
 and honourable opposition more gi'atifying. 
 From you, my Lord, I was certain I should not 
 meet coarse and insulting abuse, the foul 
 ribaldry of opprobrious contumely, nor the petty 
 chicanry that purposely keeps out of sight one 
 part of an argument, and ^vilfully misrepresents 
 another. 
 
 Your opposition, as might become a person 
 of so high a station, and of such distinguished 
 genius, exhibits none of those little arts of 
 literary warfare. Your letter is at once ar- 
 
TO LORD BYRON 253 
 
 giimentative, manly, good-humoured, and elo- 
 quent. 
 
 I am afraid, that if those whom I have lately 
 encountered might have thought that 'your 
 Lordship would decide the contest at once,' 
 in short ' hit the nail in the head, and 
 Bowles in the head also,' they will be some- 
 what disappointed. 
 
 But, be this as it may, I can say, with great 
 truth, that if it be an honor to have such a 
 character for an opponent, it is a duty in- 
 cumbent on me to endeavour to show myself 
 not unworthy, my Lord, of such notice, by 
 meeting your objections in the same spirit. 
 
 Your observations, in answer to what I said 
 of parts of Pope's moral character, may be 
 comprised in few words. 
 
 It was far from my heart to charge him with 
 a 'libertine sort of love,' on account of the 
 errors or frailties of youth. 
 
 I disdained, in the Life of Pope, to make 
 any allusion to Gibber's well-known anecdote. 
 It would have been fanatic or hypocritical in 
 me to have done so. When I spoke of his 
 'libertine kind of love,' I alluded to the general 
 tone of his language to Lady Mary, and many 
 of the ladies with whom he corresponded from 
 youth to age. I suppressed with indignation, 
 
254 PASSAGES FROM LETTERS 
 
 the Imitation of Horace, which I believe he 
 wrote — the most obscene and daring piece of 
 profligacy that ever issued from the press, since 
 the days of Charles the Second. I deduced no 
 trait of his character from it, though it was not 
 written when youth and gaiety might, in some 
 measure have palliated the offence, but when 
 he was forty-two years of age. But though I 
 had no tincture of hypocrisy or fanaticism, I 
 thought it a duty to society to touch on one 
 prominent feature in his character, which shows 
 itself in his correspondence. 
 
 As to the omission of the fact of his bene- 
 volence to Savage, it was inadvertence, — 
 culpable, I confess : but if I have spoken of 
 his ' general benevolence,' I may be pardoned, 
 I hope, for an omission, which, at all events, 
 was not intentional ; but on wliich your Lord- 
 ship's animadversion I own to be just. 
 
 ' Should some more sober critic come abroad, 
 If wrong, I smile ; if right I kiss the rod.' 
 
 Having touched on these points, I advance 
 to meet your Lordship on the ground of those 
 principles of poetical criticism, by which I 
 adventured to estimate Pope's rank and station 
 in his art. 
 
 If I cannot prove those principles invul- 
 
TO LORD BYRON 255 
 
 nerable, even when your Lordship assails 
 them ; If I cannot answer all your arguments 
 as plainly and as distinctly as you have ad- 
 duced them ; the appellation ' invariable ' I 
 shall instantly discard ; but saying, if I fall, it 
 is j^necE dextra. 
 
 On the contrary, if meeting arguments fairly, 
 I tm'n them against you ; if, without avoiding 
 the full force of any, I rebut them satisfactorily ; 
 I shall have more reason than ever to think 
 those principles Invariable, which even Lord 
 Byron cannot overturn. 
 
 It is singular that in the latter part of my 
 vindication from the charges of the Quarterly 
 Review, I had quoted your own poetry, my 
 Lord, to prove those very principles which your 
 Lordship's criticism is employed to destroy. 
 
 One thing will give me satisfaction. If you, 
 having descended into this contest, comprehend 
 me, I shall not probably be misrepresented by 
 others. But, as much misrepresentation on 
 the subject has taken place, and some mis- 
 conceptions, from which I think I shall show 
 that your Lordship is not exempt ; I shall first 
 place before your Lordship, and the public, my 
 sentiments as they stand recorded in the tenth 
 volume of Pope's Works. They are these : I 
 have often quoted them in part, but I find it, 
 
256 PASSAGES FROM LETTERS 
 
 in consequence of so many misconceptions, 
 necessary to transcribe the greater part, that 
 my principles may be seen in connection, and 
 under one view. 
 
 ' I presume it will readily be granted, that 
 "all images drawn from what is hecmtlful or 
 sublime in the works of Nature, are more 
 beautiful and sublime than any images drawn 
 from Art," and that they are therefore, per se, 
 more poetical. 
 
 ' In like manner those Passions of the 
 human heart, which belong to Nature in 
 general, are, per se, more adapted to the 
 Higher Species of Poetry, than those which 
 are derived from incidental and transient 
 Majstners. a description of a Forest is more 
 poetical than a description of a cidtivated 
 Garden ; and the Passions which are pour- 
 trayed in the Epistle of an Eloisa, render such 
 a poem more poetical, (whatever might be 
 the difference of merit in point of execution,) 
 intrinsically more poetical, than a poem 
 founded on the characters, incidents, and 
 modes of artificial life ; for instance, the 
 Rape of the Lock. 
 
 'If this be admitted, the rule by wliich we 
 would estimate Pope's general poetical char- 
 acter would be obvious. 
 
TO LORD BYRON 257 
 
 'Let me not, however, be considered as 
 thinking that the subject alone constitutes 
 poetical excellency. The execution is to be 
 taken into consideration at the same time ; 
 for, with Lord Harvey, we might fall asleep 
 over the " Creation " of Blackmore, but be 
 alive to the touches of animation and satire 
 in BoiLEAU. 
 
 'The subject, and the execution, therefore, 
 are equally to be considered ; — the one re- 
 specting the Poetry, — the other, the art and 
 powers of the jpoet. The poetical subject, and 
 the art and talents of the poet, should always 
 be kept in mind ; and I imagine it is for want 
 of observing this rule, that so much has been 
 said, and so little understood, of the real 
 ground of Pope's character as a poet. 
 
 ' If you say he is not one of the first poets 
 that England, and the polished literature of a 
 polished era can boast, 
 
 ' " Recte necne crocos floresque perambulat Atti 
 Fabula si dubitem, clamant perisse pudorem 
 Cuncti pene patres." 
 
 'If you say that he stands poetically pre- 
 eminent, in the highest sense, you must deny 
 the principles of criticism, which I imagine will 
 be acknowledged by all. 
 
 'In speaking of the poetical subject, and 
 
258 PASSAGES FROM LETTERS 
 
 the powers of execution; with regard to the 
 first, Pope cannot be classed among the highest 
 orders of poets ; with regard to the second, 
 none ever was his superior. It is futile to 
 expect to judge of one composition by the 
 rules of amother. To say that Pope, in this 
 sense, is not a Poet, is to say that a didactic 
 Poem is not a Tragedy, and that a Satire 
 is not an Ode. Pope must be judged accord- 
 ing to the rank in which he stands, among 
 those whose dehneations are taken more from 
 manners than from Nature. When I say 
 that this is his predominant character, I must 
 be insensible to everytliing exquisite in poetry, 
 if I did not except, instanter, the Epistle of 
 Eloisa : but this can only be considered accord- 
 ing to its class ; and if I say that it seems to 
 me superior to any other of the kind, to wliich 
 it might fairly be compared, such as the 
 Epistles of Ovid, Propertius, TibuUus, (I will 
 not mention Drayton, and Pope's numerous 
 subsequent Imitations ;) but when this trans- 
 cendent poem is compared with those wliich 
 will bear the comparison, I shall not be 
 deemed as gi^^ng reluctant praise, when I 
 declare my conviction of its being infinitely 
 superior to every thing of the kind, ancient 
 or modern. 
 
TO LORD BYRON 259 
 
 ^In this poem therefore, Pope appears on 
 the high ground of the Poet of Nature ; but 
 this certainly is not liis general character. 
 In the particular instance of this poem, how 
 distinguished and superior does he stand! 
 It is sufficient that nothing of the kind has 
 ever been produced equal to it, for pathos, 
 painting and melody.' 
 
 'From this exquisite performance, wliich 
 seems to stand as the boundary between the 
 poetry derived from the great and primary 
 feehngs of Nature, and that derived from 
 Art, to satire, whose subject whoUy concerns 
 existing manners, the transition is easy, but 
 the idea painful. Nevertheless, as Pope has 
 chosen to write satires and epistles, they must 
 be compared, not as Warton has, I think, 
 injudiciously done with pieces of genuine 
 poetry, but only with things of the same kind. 
 To say that the beginning of one of Pope's 
 satires is not poetical ; to say that you can- 
 not find in it, if the words are transposed, 
 the " disjecti membras poetse," is not criticism. 
 The province of satire is totally wide; its 
 career is in artificial life; and therefore to 
 say that satire is not poetry, is to say an 
 epigram is not an elegy. Pope has written 
 
26o PASSAGES FROM LETTERS 
 
 satires; that is, confined himself chiefly as a 
 poet, to those subjects with which as it has 
 been seen he was most conversant ; subjects 
 taken from living man, from habits and 
 manners, more than from principles and 
 passions. 
 
 'The career, therefore, which he opened 
 to himself was in the second order in poetry ; 
 but it was a line pursued by Horace, Juvenal, 
 Dryden, Boileau ; and if in that line he 
 stand the highest, upon these grounds we 
 might fairly say, with Johnson, "it is super- 
 fluous to ask whether Pope were a poet." 
 
 'From the poetry, which, while it deals in 
 local manners, exhibits also, as far as the 
 subject would admit, the most exquisite em- 
 bellishments of fancy, such as the machineiy^ 
 of the Rape of the Lock, we may proceed 
 to those subjects which concern " Hving man." 
 
 'The abstract philosophical view is first 
 presented, as in the Essay on Man. The 
 ground of such a poem is philosophy, not 
 poetry: the poetry is only the coloring, if 
 I may say so; and to the coloring the eye 
 is chiefly attentive. We hardly think of the 
 philosophy, whether it be good or bad ; 
 
 1 In a note to this poem the reason is given why Pope's 
 airy spirits are inferior to Shakespeare's. (B. ) 
 
TO LORD BYRON 261 
 
 whether it be profound or specious ; whether 
 it evince deep thinking, or exliibit only in 
 new and pompous array the "babble of the 
 Nurse." Scarcely any one, till a controversy 
 was raised, thought of the doctrines ; but a 
 thousand must have been warned by the 
 pictures, the addresses, the sublime inter- 
 spersions of description, and the nice and 
 harmonious precision of every word, and of 
 almost every hne. Whether as a system of 
 philosophy, it inculcated fate or not, no one 
 paused to enquire ; but every eye read a 
 thousand times and every lip repeated, 
 
 ' " To the poor Indian ! " &c. 
 " The Lamb thy riot," (fee. 
 " O Happiness," &c. 
 
 ' All these illustrative and secondary images 
 are painted from the source of genuine poetry ; 
 from Nature, not from Art. They there- 
 fore, independent of powers displayed in the 
 versification, raise the Essay on Man, con- 
 sidered in the abstract, into genuine poetry, 
 although the ijoetical part is subservient to 
 the philosophical. 
 
 'The Moral Essays depart much farther 
 from poetry so defined, as they exhibit par- 
 ticular casts and characters of man, according 
 
262 PASSAGES FROM LETTERS 
 
 to different habits of existing society ; that is, 
 of artificial life. 
 
 ' There is no reason to suppose that Pope, of 
 the general internal feelings of Nature, could be 
 more ignorant, or less capable of pourtraying 
 them by vividness of expression and colors, than 
 others ; but we must estimate what he has done, 
 not what he might have done. Many, perhaps, 
 may regret with me, that if he had disdained, 
 
 . . in Fancy's fields to wander long, 
 But stoop'd to Truth, and moraliz'd his song ; 
 
 that he had at least wandered somewhat longer 
 among scenes that were congenial to the feelings 
 of every heart ; and that he should leave them 
 for the thorns and briars of ineffectual satire 
 and bitterness ; quitting for these such scenes as 
 ' " The Paraclete's white walls and silver springs " ; 
 like his great predecessor in poetry, Milton, who 
 left the " Pastures of Peneus, and the Pines of 
 ^tna," to write " Tetrachordon," and to mingle 
 in the malignant pui'itanical tm-bulence of the 
 times. ^ 
 
 *■ When we speak of the poetical character, 
 derived from passions of general Nature, two 
 obvious distinctions must occur, without regard 
 to Aristotle ; — those which, derived from the 
 passions, may be called pathetic, and those 
 
 1 Warton. (B.) 
 
TO LORD BYRON 263 
 
 which, derived from the same source, may be 
 called sublime. 
 
 *0f the pathetic, no one (considering the 
 Epistle of Eloisa alone) has touched the chords 
 so tenderly, so pathetically, and so melodiously. 
 As far as this goes, Pope, therefore, in poetical 
 and musical expression, has no competitor. 
 
 ' We will now proceed to consider those 
 passions which are equally the subject of gen- 
 uine poetry, and on which are founded (I do not 
 say Epic or Tragic excellence, for these Pope 
 declined), but that species of poetic subHmity, 
 which gives Ufe and animation to the Ode. 
 
 ' In this respect, I believe, no one who ever 
 thought of Alexander's Feast, or the Bard of 
 Gray, could for a moment imagine Pope pre- 
 eminent. Before these he sinks, as much as any 
 other writer, whose subject was pathetic, sinks 
 before him. His Odes for the Duke of Buck- 
 ingham, though elegant, are wholly unworthy 
 to be classed as the compositions of a superior 
 Lyric Poet. 
 
 ' In what has been said I have avoided the 
 introduction of picturesque description ; that is, 
 accurate representations from external objects of 
 Nature ; but if the premises laid down in the 
 commencement of these reflections be true, no 
 one can stand pre-eminent as a great descriptive 
 
264 PASSAGES FROM LETTERS 
 
 poet ^ unless he have an eye attentive to, and 
 familiar with, every external appearance that 
 she may exhibit, in every change of season, 
 every variation of light and shade. ^ He who 
 has not an eye to observe these, and who can- 
 not with a glance distinguish every diversity of 
 every hue in her variety of beauties, must so far 
 be deficient in one of the essential qualities of a 
 poet. 
 
 'Here Pope, from infirmities, and from 
 physical causes, was particularly deficient. 
 When he left his own laurel cu'cus at Twick- 
 enham, he was lifted into his chariot or his 
 barge ; and with weak eyes, and tottering 
 strength, it is physically impossible he could 
 be a descriptive bard. ^Yhere description has 
 been introduced among his poems, as far as his 
 observation could go, he excelled ; more could 
 not be expected. In the descriptions of the 
 cloister, the scenes surrounding the melancholy 
 convent, as far as could be gained by books, 
 suggested by imagination, he was eminently 
 successful ; but even here, perhaps, he only 
 proved that he could not go far : and 
 
 ' " The streams that shine between the hills, 
 The grots that echo to the tinkling rills," 
 
 ^ A few passages have been corrected, which were not 
 accurately printed before. (B. ) 
 
 '^ Upon consideration, I certainly think it right to 
 omit the expression, ' every leaf.' (B.) 
 
TO LORD BYRON 265 
 
 were possibly transcripts of what he could most 
 easily transcribe, his own views and scenery. 
 
 ^But how different, how minute is his de- 
 scription, when he describes what he is master 
 of; for instance, the game of Ombre, in the 
 Rape of the Lock ? This is from artificial life; 
 and with artificial life, from his infirmities, he 
 must have been chiefly conversant. But if he 
 had been gifted with the same powers of ob- 
 serving outward Nature, I have no doubt he 
 would have evinced as much accuracy in de- 
 scribing the appropriate and peculiar beauties, 
 such as Nature exhibits in the Forest^ where he 
 lived, as he was able to describe, in a manner so 
 novel, and with colors so vivid, a game of cards.^ 
 
 ' It is for this reason that his Windsor Forest, 
 and his pastorals, must ever appear so defective 
 to a lover of Nature. 
 
 ' Pope, therefore, wisely left this part of his 
 art, which Thomson, and many other poets since 
 his time, have cultivated with so much more 
 success, and turned to what he calls the "Moral" 
 of the song.^ 
 
 ' I need not go regularly over his works; but 
 I think they may be generally divided under the 
 
 1 'Windsor Forest.' (B.) 
 
 2 See ' Rape of the Lock,' description of Ombre. (B.) 
 
 s ' But turn'd to truth, and moraliz'd the song.' 
 
 II. R 
 
266 PASSAGES FROM LETTERS 
 
 heads I have mentioned ; Pathetic, Sublime, 
 Descriptive, Moral and Satirical. 
 
 'In the pathetic, poetically considered, he 
 stands highest ; in the sublime, he is deficient ; 
 in descriptions from Nature, for reasons given, 
 still more so. 
 
 ' He therefore pursued that path in poetry, 
 which was more congenial to his powers, and 
 in which he has shone without a rival. 
 
 'We regret that we have little more, truly 
 pathetic, from his pen, than the Epistles of 
 Eloisa, the elegy to the unfortunate Lady ; and 
 let me not forget one of the sweetest and most 
 melodious of his pathetic eflFasions, the Address 
 to Lord Oxford. 
 
 ' " Such were the notes, thy once-loved Poet sang." 
 
 * With the exception of these, and the Pro- 
 logue to Cato, there are few things in Pope 
 of the order I have mentioned, to which the 
 recollection recurs with particular tenderness 
 and delight. 
 
 'When he left these regions, to unite the 
 most exquisite machinery of fancy with the 
 descriptions of artificial life, the Rape of the 
 Lock will, first and last, present itself ; — a com- 
 position as Johnson justly observes, "the most 
 elegant, the most airy," of all his works ; a com- 
 
TO LORD BYRON 267 
 
 position to which it will be in vain to compare 
 anything of the kind. He stands alone, un- 
 rivalled and possibly never to be rivalled. All 
 Pope's successful labour of correct and musical 
 versification, all his talents of accurate descrip- 
 tion, though in an inferior province of poetry, 
 are here consummately displayed ; and as far 
 as artificial fife, that is, manners not passions, 
 are capable of being rendered poetical, they are 
 here rendered so, by the fancy, the propriety, 
 the elegance, and the poetic beauty of the 
 Sylphic machinery. 
 
 ' This " delightful " poem, as I have said, 
 appears to stand conspicuous and beautiful, in 
 that medium where poetry begins to leave 
 Nature, and approximates to local manners. 
 The Muse has, indeed, no longer her great 
 characteristic attributes, pathos or sublimity ; 
 but she appears so interesting, that we almost 
 doubt whether the garb of elegant refinement is 
 not as captivating, as the most beautiful appear- 
 ances of Nature.' 
 
 I have placed before the pubhc, in one point 
 of view, the greater part of what I advanced as 
 the ground- work of my judgement on Pope's 
 poetry ; and I can ask whether they observe 
 any symptoms of detraction or depreciation? 
 I have spoken of the sublime, the pathetic, the 
 
268 PASSAGES FROM LETTERS 
 
 moral, the satirical, and the descriptive in 
 poetry ; putting the descriptive last. 
 
 Now in your letter, my Lord, you have said 
 nothing of the Sublime of poetry, as dis- 
 tinguishing the great poet, whose eminence in 
 his art has led to this discussion ; but I affirm, 
 that in the pathetic, as he yields, (and the dis- 
 tance is great,) to Shakespeare, the variety of 
 pathos in Shakespeare being considered ; yet, if 
 we view Pope's poems together, and remark his 
 consummate execution of all he performed, 
 though he is inferior to jNIilton and must be so, 
 from the Superior Grandeur of INIilton's sub- 
 ject, the greater exertion of talents required, 
 according to the universal consent of the critics ; 
 and the equal execution ; yet in one particular 
 branch of his art. Sublimity, he yields to 
 Dryden, as well as to these great poets ; and, in 
 another particular branch of his art, the accurate 
 representation of picturesque imageiy from 
 external Nature, he yields to Thomson and 
 Cowper. 
 
 As to sublimity, you will see I have spoken 
 of his Ode, compared -with one of Dryden's. 
 Will you venture to say, the Ode for JMusic by 
 Pope is equal to the Ode for Music by Dryden, 
 Alexander's Feast, or that Ode spoken of so 
 enthusiastically by Dr Johnson ? I tliink you 
 
TO LORD BYRON 269 
 
 will hardly do this ; and if you do, I believe, 
 my Lord, no critic in England, or Europe will 
 
 agree with you. 
 
 ***** 
 
 ' Take away the " pyramids," and what is the 
 " desert ? " Take away Stonehenge from SaUs- 
 bury plain, and it is nothing more than Houn- 
 slow Heath, or any other uninclosed down.' — 
 (Byron.) 
 
 I will tell you, my Lord, why a desert is 
 poetical without a pyramid ; because it con- 
 veys ideas of immeasurable extent, of profound 
 silence, of solitude. What is Salisbury Plain 
 without Stonehenge ? Stonehenge is poetical 
 from its traditions and uncertain origin. (See 
 Warton's fine sonnet.) But Hounslow Heath 
 conveys to the mind chiefly ideas of ' artificial ' 
 life, — turnpike roads, stage coaches in all direc- 
 tions, raree-showmen, whose shows 'thousands' 
 would look at who would not look at the sun ! ! 
 Carts and caravans, and butcher boys scamper- 
 ing on horseback with one spur, and my Lord 
 in his coach with the ' poetical Liverymen ' 
 behind ! 
 
 Therefore, Hounslow Heath is not so poetical 
 as 'the Desert,' connected with the idea of 
 solitude, of extent, of sands moving in the vast 
 wilderness ; of Arabs telling their wild stories 
 
270 PASSAGES FROM LETTERS 
 
 by moonlight, &c. : — these make ' the desert ' 
 more poetical than Hounslow Heath, with or 
 without a pyramid. 
 
 But we must be more particular, now we 
 come to 
 
 Salisbury Plain. 
 
 We have been taking a delightful excursion, 
 from Venice to Constantinople, from Athens 
 and the shore of Greece to the Pyramids of 
 Egypt, as on Rogero's horse, from the Pyra- 
 mids and deserts of Egypt having placed me 
 
 ' Ut magnus, modo Thebis, modo Athenis,' 
 
 you have brought me back safely to SaKsbury 
 Plain, within thirty miles of my own door. 
 
 And here it is almost time (for wliich I am 
 sorry) to part, for the excursion has been 
 pleasant ; and if we have not quite agreed on 
 the road, I hope we shall part in as good 
 humour as we met. But before I take my 
 leave, suffer me to recall to your recollection 
 the first words of your sentence about the 
 pyramids. 
 
 The reader has seen, that you have admitted 
 they are not so poetical ^vithout the desert and 
 its associations as mtli them. Now I have 
 quoted my original positions four or Jive times. 
 
TO LORD BYRON 271 
 
 placed them before Mr Campbell, the Quarterly 
 Review and your Lordship, and I beg and 
 entreat you again to remember, I never said 
 that Works of Art were not poetical, (I must 
 have been an idiot so to have said,) I only said 
 the subHme and beautiful works of Nature 
 were, per se, abstractedly, more so ! Has the 
 air of Italy, Milan, &c. affected your Lordship's 
 recollection ? 
 
 'Works of nature are, per se, in what is 
 beautiful or sublime, more poetical than any 
 works of art.' 
 
 ' Passions are more poetical than the manners 
 and habits of artificial life.' 
 
 If you had read what I distinctly laid down, 
 or, having read the first propositions, remem- 
 bered them, your book would not have been so 
 pleasant, but I cannot concede that any instance 
 you have advanced, has aff'ected my original 
 positions. 
 
 Your gods and goddesses ; your statues, busts, 
 temples, your arms, shields, and spears, (not 
 forgetting Mrs Unwin's needle and Cowper's 
 small-clothes ;) your prospects of cities by sea, 
 Venice, Constantinople, &c. ; your pyramids 
 and pigsties ; your slop-basins and ' other 
 vessels ; ' your Kveryman ; the desert, Hounslow 
 Heath, (why not Bagshot ? it is most poetical 
 
272 PASSAGES FROM LETTERS 
 
 of the two,) Salisbury Plain, the poulterer, the 
 rabbits, ' white, black and grey,' vanish at the 
 waving of the wand of truth ; and the grotesque 
 assembly becomes 
 
 ' Like the baseless shadow of a vision.' 
 
 However, as we are got safe upon Salisbury 
 Plain at last, it is time to make my bow, and I 
 can assure you, my Lord, I look back on many 
 of the beautiful pictures you have painted with 
 unfeigned dehght, though still thinking my 
 principles of poetical criticism not a jot the less 
 ' INVARIABLE,' in consequeucc of any arguments 
 you have brought against them. 
 
 About to take my leave on this ground, 
 rendered far more poetical than Hounslow 
 Heath, not only by Stonehenge and the tumuK 
 of ancient Britons, those obscure records which 
 my friend, Sir R. Hoare, has so ably illustrated, 
 but the immense rampart of Wans Dyke ; I 
 hope I have not infringed that honorable and 
 manly courtesy which is due to a person of 
 your Lordship's genius and talents, although 
 they have shone so unpropitiously to myself. 
 I have said, I do not wish to flatter you, so I 
 profess, my Lord, not to fear you ; but, as your 
 friend Hobhouse says, ' a mouse will turn if 
 he is trampled on.'^ You are indeed dis- 
 
 1 In his speech, April 16th, 1821. 
 
TO LORD BYRON 273 
 
 tinguished as much as possible from my late 
 assailants, the first of whom was disgusting 
 from vulgarity; the arguments of the other 
 were marked in an equal ratio by stupidity and 
 sophistry;! and as 'Salisbury Plain' is now 
 before us, I might say in the pecuhar phrase- 
 ology of one of these briUiant writers, (as 
 ' Shakespeare has it ! ! ') 
 
 ' An' if I had them on Saeum Plain, 
 I'd drive them cackling home to Camelot ! ' 
 
 There are one or two personal passages in 
 your pamphlet, which it is possible, upon second 
 thoughts, you would have omitted. Whether 
 you would do so or not, I shall pass them over 
 sub silentio ; and hoping in the course of this 
 discussion, I may not have said a word to give 
 the least personal offence to your Lordship. 
 I remain, &c., &c., 
 
 W. L. BOWLES. 
 
 ! Reviewers in the London Magazine and in the 
 Quarterly. The whole account of the origin and pro- 
 gress of this controversy may be had at Warren's, Book- 
 seller, Bond Street, entitled a Vindication of the Editor 
 of Pope's Works, &c. (B.) 
 
FEINTED BY 
 
 TUENBUIL AND SPEARS, 
 
 EDINBUEGH 
 
i