Lives Of The Poets, Vol. 1 (fiscle part-III) by Samuel Johnson (audio ebook reader txt) 📕

Him; Had They One Of His Learning, His Temper, But Above All Of That

Particular Turn Of Humour, That Altogether New Genius, He Had Been An

Example To Their Poets, And A Subject Of Their Panegyricks, And, Perhaps,

Set In competition With The Ancients, To Whom Only He Ought To Submit.

"I Shall, Therefore, Endeavour To Do Justice To His Memory, Since Nobody

Else Undertakes It. And, Indeed, I Can Assign No Cause Why So Many Of His

Acquaintance, That Are As Willing and More Able Than Myself To Give An

Account Of Him, Should Forbear To Celebrate The Memory Of One So Dear To

Them, But Only That They Look Upon It As A Work Entirely Belonging to Me.

"I Shall Content Myself With Giving only A Character Of The Person And

His Writings, Without Meddling with The Transactions Of His Life, Which

Was Altogether Private: I Shall Only Make This Known Observation Of His

Family, That There Was Scarce So Many Extraordinary Men In any One. I

Have Been Acquainted with Five Of His Brothers, Of Which Three Are Still

Living, All Men Of Fine Parts, Yet All Of A Very Unlike Temper And

Genius. So That Their Fruitful Mother, Like The Mother Of The Gods, Seems

To Have Produced a Numerous Offspring, All Of Different, Though Uncommon

Faculties. Of The Living, Neither Their Modesty, Nor The Humour Of The

Present Age, Permits Me To Speak; Of The Dead, I May Say Something.

"One Of Them Had Made The Greatest Progress In the Study Of The Law Of

Nature And Nations, Of Any One I Know. He Had Perfectly Mastered, And

Even Improved, The Notions Of Grotius, And The More Refined ones Of

Puffendorf. He Could Refute Hobbes With As Much Solidity As Some Of

Greater Name, And Expose Him With As Much Wit As Echard. That Noble

Study, Which Requires The Greatest Reach Of Reason And Nicety Of

Distinction, Was Not At All Difficult To Him. 'Twas A National Loss To Be

Deprived of One Who Understood A Science So Necessary, And Yet So Unknown

In England. I Shall Add Only, He Had The Same Honesty And Sincerity As

The Person I Write Of, But More Heat: The Former Was More Inclined to

Argue, The Latter To Divert: One Employed his Reason More; The Other His

Imagination: The Former Had Been Well Qualified for Those Posts, Which

The Modesty Of The Latter Made Him Refuse. His Other Dead Brother Would

Have Been An Ornament To The College Of Which He Was A Member. He Had A

Genius Either For Poetry Or Oratory; And, Though Very Young, Composed

Several Very Agreeable Pieces. In all Probability He Would Have Wrote As

Finely, As His Brother Did Nobly. He Might Have Been The Waller, As The

Other Was The Milton Of His Time. The One Might Celebrate Marlborough,

The Other His Beautiful Offspring. This Had Not Been So Fit To Describe

The Actions Of Heroes, As The Virtues Of Private Men. In a Word, He Had

Been Fitter For My Place; And, While His Brother Was Writing upon The

Greatest Men That Any Age Ever Produced, In a Style Equal To Them, He

Might Have Served as A Panegyrist On Him.

"This Is All I Think Necessary To Say Of His Family. I Shall Proceed to

Himself And His Writings; Which I Shall First Treat Of, Because I Know

They Are Censured by Some Out Of Envy, And More Out Of Ignorance.

"The Splendid Shilling, Which Is Far The Least Considerable, Has The More

General Reputation, And, Perhaps, Hinders The Character Of The Rest. The

Style Agreed so Well With The Burlesque, That The Ignorant Thought It

Could Become Nothing else. Every Body Is Pleased with That Work. But To

Judge Rightly Of The Other, Requires A Perfect Mastery Of Poetry And

Criticism, A Just Contempt Of The Little Turns And Witticisms Now In

Vogue, And, Above All, A Perfect Understanding of Poetical Diction And

Description.

"All That Have Any Taste Of Poetry Will Agree, That The Great Burlesque

Is Much To Be Preferred to The Low. It Is Much Easier To Make A Great

Thing appear Little, Than A Little One Great: Cotton And Others Of A Very

Low Genius Have Done The Former; But Philips, Garth, And Boileau, Only

The Latter.

"A Picture In miniature Is Every Painter'S Talent; But A Piece For A

Cupola, Where All The Figures Are Enlarged, Yet Proportioned to The Eye,

Requires A Master'S Hand.

"It Must Still Be More Acceptable Than The Low Burlesque, Because The

Images Of The Latter Are Mean And Filthy, And The Language Itself

Entirely Unknown To All Men Of Good Breeding. The Style Of Billingsgate

Would Not Make A Very Agreeable Figure At St. James'S. A Gentleman Would

Take But Little Pleasure In language, Which He Would Think It Hard To Be

Accosted in, Or In reading words Which He Could Not Pronounce Without

Blushing. The Lofty Burlesque Is The More To Be Admired, Because, To

Write It, The Author Must Be Master Of Two Of The Most Different Talents

In Nature. A Talent To Find Out And Expose What Is Ridiculous, Is Very

Different From That Which Is To Raise And Elevate. We Must Read Virgil

And Milton For The One, And Horace And Hudibras For The Other. We Know

That The Authors Of Excellent Comedies Have Often Failed in the Grave

Style, And The Tragedian As Often In comedy. Admiration And Laughter

Are Of Such Opposite Natures, That They Are Seldom Created by The Same

Person. The Man Of Mirth Is Always Observing the Follies And Weaknesses,

The Serious Writer The Virtues Or Crimes, Of Mankind; One Is Pleased with

Contemplating a Beau, The Other A Hero: Even From The Same Object They

Would Draw Different Ideas: Achilles Would Appear In very Different

Lights To Thersites And Alexander. The One Would Admire The Courage And

Greatness Of His Soul; The Other Would Ridicule The Vanity And Rashness

Of His Temper. As The Satirist Says To Hannibal:

  "I, Curre Per Alpes,

  Ut Pueris Placeas, Et Declamatio Fias.

"The Contrariety Of Style To The Subject Pleases The More Strongly,

Because It Is More Surprising; The Expectation Of The Reader Is

Pleasantly Deceived, Who Expects An Humble Style From The Subject, Or A

Great Subject From The Style. It Pleases The More Universally, Because

It Is Agreeable To The Taste Both Of The Grave And The Merry; But More

Particularly So To Those Who Have A Relish Of The Best Writers, And The

Noblest Sort Of Poetry. I Shall Produce Only One Passage Out Of This

Poet, Which Is The Misfortune Of His Galligaskins:

  "My Galligaskins, Which Have Long Withstood

  The Winter'S Fury And Encroaching frosts,

  By Time Subdued (What Will Not Time Subdue!)

"This Is Admirably Pathetical, And Shows Very Well The Vicissitudes Of

Sublunary Things. The Rest Goes On To A Prodigious Height; And A Man In

Greenland Could Hardly Have Made A More Pathetick And Terrible Complaint.

Is It Not Surprising that The Subject Should Be So Mean, And The Verse So

Pompous; That The Least Things In his Poetry, As In a Microscope, Should

Grow Great And Formidable To The Eye? Especially Considering that, Not

Understanding french, He Had No Model For His Style? That He Should Have

No Writer To Imitate, And Himself Be Inimitable? That He Should Do All

This Before He Was Twenty? At An Age Which Is Usually Pleased with A

Glare Of False Thoughts, Little Turns, And Unnatural Fustian? At An

Age, At Which Cowley, Dryden, And I Had Almost Said Virgil, Were

Inconsiderable? So Soon Was His Imagination At Its Full Strength, His

Judgment Ripe, And His Humour Complete.

"This Poem Was Written For His Own Diversion, Without Any Design Of

Publication. It Was Communicated but To Me; But Soon Spread, And Fell

Into The Hands Of Pirates. It Was Put Out, Vilely Mangled, By Ben.

Bragge; And Impudently Said To Be Corrected by The Author. This Grievance

Is Now Grown More Epidemical; And No Man Now Has A Right To His Own

Thoughts, Or A Title To His Own Writings. Xenophon Answered the Persian,

Who Demanded his Arms: 'We Have Nothing now Left But Our Arms And Our

Valour: If We Surrender The One, How Shall We Make Use Of The Other?'

Poets Have Nothing but Their Wits And Their Writings; And If They Are

Plundered of The Latter, I Don'T See What Good The Former Can Do Them.

To Pirate, And Publickly Own It, To Prefix Their Names To The Works They

Steal, To Own And Avow The Theft, I Believe, Was Never Yet Heard Of But

In England. It Will Sound Oddly To Posterity, That, In a Polite Nation,

In An Enlightened age, Under The Direction Of The Most Wise, Most

Learned, And Most Generous Encouragers Of Knowledge In the World, The

Property Of A Mechanick Should Be Better Secured than That Of A Scholar!

That The Poorest Manual Operations Should Be More Valued than The Noblest

Products Of The Brain! That It Should Be Felony To Rob A Cobbler Of A

Pair Of Shoes, And No Crime To Deprive The Best Author Of His Whole

Subsistence! That Nothing should Make A Man A Sure Title To His Own

Writings But The Stupidity Of Them! That The Works Of Dryden Should Meet

With Less Encouragement Than Those Of His Own Flecknoe, Or Blackmore!

That Tillotson And St. George, Tom Thumb And Temple, Should Be Set On

An Equal Foot! This Is The Reason Why This Very Paper Has Been So Long

Delayed; And, While The Most Impudent And Scandalous Libels Are Publickly

Vended by The Pirates, This Innocent Work Is Forced to Steal Abroad As If

It Were A Libel.

"Our Present Writers Are By These Wretches Reduced to The Same Condition

Virgil Was, When The Centurion Seized on His Estate. But I Don'T Doubt

But I Can Fix Upon The Maecenas Of The Present Age, That Will Retrieve

Them From It. But, Whatever Effect This Piracy May Have Upon Us, It

Contributed very Much To The Advantage Of Mr. Philips: It Helped him To

A Reputation Which He Neither Desired nor Expected, And To The Honour Of

Being put Upon A Work Of Which He Did Not Think Himself Capable; But The

Event Showed his Modesty. And It Was Reasonable To Hope, That He, Who

Could Raise Mean Subjects So High, Should Still Be More Elevated on

Greater Themes; That He That Could Draw Such Noble Ideas From A Shilling,

Could Not Fail Upon Such A Subject As The Duke Of Marlborough, "Which

Is Capable Of Heightening even The Most Low And Trifling genius." And,

Indeed, Most Of The Great Works Which Have Been Produced in the World

Have Been Owing less To The Poet Than The Patron. Men Of The Greatest

Genius Are Sometimes Lazy, And Want A Spur; Often Modest, And Dare Not

Venture In publick: They Certainly Know Their Faults In the Worst Things;

And Even Their Best Things They Are Not Fond Of, Because The Idea Of What

They Ought To Be Is Far Above What They Are. This Induced me To Believe

That Virgil Desired his Works Might Be Burnt, Had Not The Same Augustus

That Desired him To Write Them, Preserved them From Destruction. A

Scribbling beau May Imagine A Poet _May_ Be Induced to Write, By The

Very Pleasure He Finds In writing; But That Is Seldom, When People Are

Necessitated to It. I Have Known Men Row, And Use Very Hard Labour, For

Diversion, Which, If They Had Been Tied to, They Would Have Thought

Themselves Very Unhappy.

"But To Return To Blenheim, That Work So Much Admired by Some, And

Censured by Others. I Have Often Wished he Had Wrote It In latin, That He

Might Be Out Of The Reach Of The Empty Criticks, Who Could Have As Little

Understood His Meaning in that Language As They Do His Beauties In his

Own.

"False Criticks Have Been The Plague Of All Ages; Milton Himself, In a

Very Polite Court, Has Been Compared to The Rumbling of A Wheelbarrow: He

Had Been On The Wrong Side, And, Therefore, Could Not Be A Good Poet. And

This, Perhaps, May Be Mr. Philips'S Case.

"But I Take, Generally, The Ignorance Of His Readers To Be The Occasion

Of Their Dislike. People That Have Formed their Taste Upon The French

Writers Can Have No Relish For Philips: They Admire Points And Turns,

And, Consequently, Have No Judgment Of What Is Great And Majestick; He

Must Look Little In their Eyes, When He Soars So High As To Be Almost Out

Of Their View. I Cannot, Therefore, Allow Any Admirer Of The French To Be

A Judge Of Blenheim, Nor Any Who Takes Bouhours For A Complete Critick.

He Generally Judges Of The Ancients By The Moderns, And