all for love-第4章

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ntiquity；　when　he　should　have　given　us　the　picture　of　a　rough　young　man；　of　the　Amazonian　strain；　a　jolly　huntsman；　and　both　by　his　profession　and　his　early　rising　a　mortal　enemy　to　love；　he　has　chosen　to　give　him　the　turn　of　gallantry；　sent　him　to　travel　from　Athens　to　Paris；　taught　him　to　make　love；　and　transformed　the　Hippolytus　of　Euripides　into　Monsieur　Hippolyte。　I　should　not　have　troubled　myself　thus　far　with　French　poets；　but　that　I　find　our　Chedreux　critics　wholly　form　their　judgments　by　them。　But　for　my　part；　I　desire　to　be　tried　by　the　laws　of　my　own　country；　for　it　seems　unjust　to　me；　that　the　French　should　prescribe　here；　till　they　have　conquered。　　Our　little　sonneteers；　who　follow　them；　have　too　narrow　souls　to　judge　of　poetry。　　Poets　themselves　are　the　most　proper；　though　I　conclude　not　the　only　critics。　　But　till　some　genius；　as　universal　as　Aristotle；　shall　arise；　one　who　can　penetrate　into　all　arts　and　sciences；　without　the　practice　of　them；　I　shall　think　it　reasonable；　that　the　judgment　of　an　artificer　in　his　own　art　should　be　preferable　to　the　opinion　of　another　man；　at　least　where　he　is　not　bribed　by　interest；　or　prejudiced　by　malice。　　And　this；　I　suppose；　is　manifest　by　plain　inductions：　　For；　first；　the　crowd　cannot　be　presumed　to　have　more　than　a　gross　instinct　of　what　pleases　or　displeases　them：　　Every　man　will　grant　me　this；　but　then；　by　a　particular　kindness　to　himself；　he　draws　his　own　stake　first；　and　will　be　distinguished　from　the　multitude；　of　which　other　men　may　think　him　one。　　But；　if　I　come　closer　to　those　who　are　allowed　for　witty　men；　either　by　the　advantage　of　their　quality；　or　by　common　fame；　and　affirm　that　neither　are　they　qualified　to　decide　sovereignly　concerning　poetry；　I　shall　yet　have　a　strong　party　of　my　opinion；　for　most　of　them　severally　will　exclude　the　rest；　either　from　the　number　of　witty　men；　or　at　least　of　able　judges。　　But　here　again　they　are　all　indulgent　to　themselves；　and　every　one　who　believes　himself　a　wit；　that　is；　every　man；　will　pretend　at　the　same　time　to　a　right　of　judging。　　But　to　press　it　yet　further；　there　are　many　witty　men；　but　few　poets；　neither　have　all　poets　a　taste　of　tragedy。　　And　this　is　the　rock　on　which　they　are　daily　splitting。　Poetry；　which　is　a　picture　of　nature；　must　generally　please；　but　it　is　not　to　be　understood　that　all　parts　of　it　must　please　every　man；　therefore　is　not　tragedy　to　be　judged　by　a　witty　man；　whose　taste　is　only　confined　to　comedy。　　Nor　is　every　man；　who　loves　tragedy；　a　sufficient　judge　of　it；　he　must　understand　the　excellences　of　it　too；　or　he　will　only　prove　a　blind　admirer；　not　a　critic。　　From　hence　it　comes　that　so　many　satires　on　poets；　and　censures　of　their　writings；　fly　abroad。　　Men　of　pleasant　conversation　（at　least　esteemed　so）；　and　endued　with　a　trifling　kind　of　fancy；　perhaps　helped　out　with　some　smattering　of　Latin；　are　ambitious　to　distinguish　themselves　from　the　herd　of　gentlemen；　by　their　poetry

　　　　　Rarus　enim　ferme　sensus　communis　in　illa　Fortuna。

And　is　not　this　a　wretched　affectation；　not　to　be　contented　with　what　fortune　has　done　for　them；　and　sit　down　quietly　with　their　estates；　but　they　must　call　their　wits　in　question；　and　needlessly　expose　their　nakedness　to　public　view？　　Not　considering　that　they　are　not　to　expect　the　same　approbation　from　sober　men；　which　they　have　found　from　their　flatterers　after　the　third　bottle。　　If　a　little　glittering　in　discourse　has　passed　them　on　us　for　witty　men；　where　was　the　necessity　of　undeceiving　the　world？　　Would　a　man　who　has　an　ill　title　to　an　estate；　but　yet　is　in　possession　of　it；　would　he　bring　it　of　his　own　accord；　to　be　tried　at　Westminster？　　We　who　write；　if　we　want　the　talent；　yet　have　the　excuse　that　we　do　it　for　a　poor　subsistence；　but　what　can　be　urged　in　their　defence；　who；　not　having　the　vocation　of　poverty　to　scribble；　out　of　mere　wantonness　take　pains　to　make　themselves　ridiculous？　　Horace　was　certainly　in　the　right；　where　he　said；　〃That　no　man　is　satisfied　with　his　own　condition。〃　A　poet　is　not　pleased；　because　he　is　not　rich；　and　the　rich　are　discontented；　because　the　poets　will　not　admit　them　of　their　number。　　Thus　the　case　is　hard　with　writers：　　If　they　succeed　not；　they　must　starve；　and　if　they　do；　some　malicious　satire　is　prepared　to　level　them；　for　daring　to　please　without　their　leave。　　But　while　they　are　so　eager　to　destroy　the　fame　of　others；　their　ambition　is　manifest　in　their　concernment；　some　poem　of　their　own　is　to　be　produced；　and　the　slaves　are　to　be　laid　flat　with　their　faces　on　the　ground；　that　the　monarch　may　appear　in　the　greater　majesty。

Dionysius　and　Nero　had　the　same　longings；　but　with　all　their　power　they　could　never　bring　their　business　well　about。　　'Tis　true；　they　proclaimed　themselves　poets　by　sound　of　trumpet；　and　poets　they　were；　upon　pain　of　death　to　any　man　who　durst　call　them　otherwise。　　The　audience　had　a　fine　time　on't；　you　may　imagine；　they　sat　in　a　bodily　fear；　and　looked　as　demurely　as　they　could：　　for　it　was　a　hanging　matter　to　laugh　unseasonably；　and　the　tyrants　were　suspicious；　as　they　had　reason；　that　their　subjects　had　them　in　the　wind；　so；　every　man；　in　his　own　defence；　set　as　good　a　face　upon　the　business　as　he　could。　　It　was　known　beforehand　that　the　monarchs　were　to　be　crowned　laureates；　but　when　the　show　was　over；　and　an　honest　man　was　suffered　to　depart　quietly；　he　took　out　his　laughter　which　he　had　stifled；　with　a　firm　resolution　never　more　to　see　an　emperor's　play；　though　he　had　been　ten　years　a…making　it。　　In　the　meantime　the　true　poets　were　they　who　made　the　best　markets：　　for　they　had　wit　enough　to　yield　the　prize　with　a　good　grace；　and　not　contend　with　him　who　had　thirty　legions。　　They　were　sure　to　be　rewarded；　if　they　confessed　themselves　bad　writers；　and　that　was　somewhat　better　than　to　be　martyrs　for　their　reputation。　　Lucan's　example　was　enough　to　teach　them　manners；　and　after　he　was　put　to　death；　for　overcoming　Nero；　the　emperor　carried　it　without　dispute　for　the　best　poet　in　his　dominions。　No　man　was　ambitious　of　that　grinning　honour；　for　if　he　heard　the　malicious　trumpeter　proclaiming　his　name　before　his　betters；　he　knew　there　was　but　one　way　with　him。　　Maecenas　took　another　course；　and　we　know　he　was　more　than　a　great　man；　for　he　was　witty　too：　　But　finding　himself　far　gone　in　poetry；　which　Seneca　assures　us　was　not　his　talent；　he　thought　it　his　best　way　to　be　well　with　Virgil　and　with　Horace；　that　at　least　he　might　be　a　poet　at　the　second　hand；　and　we　see　how　happily　it　has　succeeded　with　him；　for　his　own　bad　poetry　is　forgotten；　and　their　panegyrics　of　him　still　remain。　　But　they　who　should　be　our　patrons　are　for　no　such　expensive　ways　to　fame；　they　have　much　of　the　poetry　of　Maecenas；　but　little　of　his　liberality。　They　are　for　prosecuting　Horace　and　Virgil；　in　the　persons　of　their　successors；　for　such　is　every　man　who　has　any　part　of　their　soul　and　fire；　though　in　a　less　degree。　　Some　of　their　little　zanies　yet　go　further；　for　they　are　persecutors　even　of　Horace　himself；　as　far　as　they　are　able；　by　their　ignorant　and　vile　imitations　of　him；　by　making　an　unjust　use　of　his　authority；　and　turning　his　artillery　against　his　friends。　　But　how　would　he　disdain　to　be　copied　by　such　hands！　　I　dare　answer　for　him；　he　would　be　more　uneasy　in　their　company；　than　he　was　with　Crispinus；　their　forefather；　in　the　Holy　Way；　and　would　no　more　have　allowed　them　a　place　amongst　the　critics；　than　he　would　Demetrius　the　mimic；　and　Tigellius　the　buffoon；

　　　　　…　Demetri；　teque；　Tigelli；　　　　　　Discipulorum　inter　jubeo　plorare　cathedras。

With　what　scorn　would　he　look　down　on　such　miserable　translators；　who　make　doggerel　of　his　Latin；　mistake　his　meaning；　misapply　his　censures；　and　often　contradict　their　own？　　He　is　fixed　as　a　landmark　to　set　out　the　bounds　of　poetry

　　　　　…　Saxum　antiquum；　ingens；　　　　　　Limes　agro　positus；　litem　ut　discerneret　arvis。

But　other　arms　than　theirs；　and　other　sinews　are　required；　to　raise　the　weight　of　such　an　author；　and　when　they　would　toss　him　against　enemies

　　　　　Genua　labant；　gelidus　concrevit　frigore　sanguis。　　　　　　Tum　lapis　ipse　viri；　vacuum　per　inane　volatus；　　　　　　Nec　spatium　evasit　totum；　nec　pertulit　ictum。

For　my　part；　I　would　wish　no　other　revenge；　either　for　mys