ANTHONY WOOD and LOCKE--MILTON and SPRAT--BURNET and his
History--PRIOR and ADDISON--SWIFT and STEELE--WAGSTAFFE and
STEELE--STEELE and ADDISON--HOOKE and MIDDLETON--GILBERT
WAKEFIELD--MARVEL and MILTON--CLARENDON and MAY.
VOLTAIRE, in his letters on our nation, has hit off a marked feature
in our national physiognomy. "So violent did I find parties in London,
that I was assured by several that the Duke of MARLBOROUGH was a
coward, and Mr. POPE a fool."
A foreigner indeed could hardly expect that in collecting the
characters of English authors by English authors (a labour which has
long afforded me pleasure often interrupted by indignation)--in a
word, that a class of literary history should turn out a collection of
personal quarrels. Would not this modern Baillet, in his new _Jugemens
des Scavans_, so ingeniously inquisitive but so infinitely confused,
require to be initiated into the mysteries of that spirit of party
peculiar to our free country!
All that boiling rancour which sputters against the thoughts, the
style, the taste, the moral character of an author, is often nothing
more than practising what, to give it a name, we may call _Political
Criticism in Literature_; where an author's literary character is
attacked solely from the accidental circumstance of his differing in
opinion from his critics on subjects unconnected with the topics he
treats of.
Could Anthony Wood, had he not been influenced by this political
criticism, have sent down LOCKE to us as "a man of a turbulent spirit,
clamorous, and never contented, prating and troublesome?"[338] But
Locke was the antagonist of FILMER, that advocate of arbitrary power;
and Locke is described "as bred under a fanatical tutor," and when in
Holland, as one of those who under the Earl of Shaftesbury "stuck
close to him when discarded, and carried on the _trade of faction_
beyond and within the seas several years after." In the great original
genius, born, like BACON and NEWTON, to create a new era in the
history of the human mind, this political literary critic, who was not
always deficient in his perceptions of genius, could only discover "a
trader in faction," though in his honesty he acknowledges him to be "a
noted writer."
A more illustrious instance of party-spirit operating against works of
genius is presented to us in the awful character of MILTON. From
earliest youth to latest age endowed with all the characteristics of
genius; fervent with all the inspirations of study; in all changes
still the same great literary character as Velleius Paterculus writes
of one of his heroes--"Aliquando fortuna, semper animo maximus:" while
in his own day, foreigners, who usually anticipate posterity, were
inquiring after Milton, it is known how utterly disregarded he lived
at home. The divine author of the "Paradise Lost" was always connected
with the man for whom a reward was offered in the _London Gazette_.
But in their triumph, the lovers of monarchy missed their greater
glory, in not separating for ever the republican Secretary of State
from the rival of Homer.
That the genius of Milton pined away in solitude, and that all the
consolations of fame were denied him during his life, from this
political criticism on his works, is generally known; but not perhaps
that this spirit propagated itself far beyond the poet's tomb. I give
a remarkable instance. Bishop Sprat, who surely was capable of feeling
the poetry of Milton, yet from political antipathy retained such an
abhorrence of his _name_, that when the writer of the Latin
Inscription on the poet JOHN PHILIPS, in describing his versification,
applied to it the term _Miltono_, Sprat ordered it to be erased, as
polluting a monument raised in a church.[339] A mere critical opinion
on versification was thus sacrificed to political feeling:--a stream
indeed which in its course has hardly yet worked itself clear. It
could only have been the strong political feeling of Warton which
could have induced him to censure the prose of Milton with such
asperity, while he closed his critical eyes on its resplendent
passages, which certainly he wanted not the taste to feel,--for he
caught in his own pages, occasionally, some of the reflected warmth.
This feeling took full possession of the mind of Johnson, who, with
all the rage of political criticism on subjects of literature, has
condemned the finest works of Milton, and in one of his terrible
paroxysms has demonstrated that the Samson Agonistes is "a tragedy
which ignorance has admired and bigotry applauded." Had not Johnson's
religious feelings fortunately interposed between Milton and his
"Paradise," we should have wanted the present noble effusion of his
criticism; any other Epic by Milton had probably sunk beneath his
vigorous sophistry, and his tasteless sarcasm. Lauder's attack on
Milton was hardily projected, on a prospect of encouragement, from
this political criticism on the literary character of Milton; and he
succeeded as long as he could preserve the decency of the delusion.
The Spirit of Party has touched with its plague-spot the character of
Burnet; it has mildewed the page of a powerful mind, and tainted by
its suspicions, its rumours, and its censures, his probity as a man.
Can we forbear listening to all the vociferations which faction has
thrown out? Do we not fear to trust ourselves amid the multiplicity of
his facts? And when we are familiarised with the variety of his
historical portraits, are we not startled when it is suggested that
"they are tinged with his own passions and his own weaknesses?" Burnet
has indeed made "his humble appeal to the great God of Truth" that he
has given it as fully as he could find it; and he has expressed his
abhorrence of "a lie in history," so much greater a sin than a lie in
common discourse, from its lasting and universal nature. Yet these
hallowing protestations have not saved him! A cloud of witnesses, from
different motives, have risen up to attaint his veracity and his
candour; while all the Tory wits have ridiculed his style, impatiently
inaccurate, and uncouthly negligent, and would sink his vigour and
ardour, while they expose the meanness and poverty of his genius. Thus
the literary and the moral character of no ordinary author have fallen
a victim to party-feeling.[340]
But this victim to political criticism on literature was himself
criminal, and has wreaked his own party feelings on the _Papist_
Dryden, and the _Tory_ Prior; Dryden he calls, in the most unguarded
language, "a monster of immodesty and impurity of all sorts." There
had been a literary quarrel between Dryden and Burnet respecting a
translation of Varillas' "History of Heresies;" Burnet had ruined the
credit of the papistical author while Dryden was busied on the
translation; and as Burnet says, "he has wreaked his malice on me for
spoiling his three months' labour." In return, he kindly informs
Dryden, alluding to his poem of "The Hind and the Panther," "that he
is the author of the _worst_ poem the age has produced;" and that as
for "his morals, it is scarce possible to grow a worse man than he
was"--a personal style not to be permitted in any controversy, but to
bring this passion on the hallowed ground of history, was not "casting
away his shoe" in the presence of the divinity of truth.[341] It could
only have been the spirit of party which induced Burnet, in his
History, to mention with contempt and pretended ignorance so fine a
genius as "_one Prior_, who had been Jersey's secretary." It was the
same party-feeling in the Tory Prior, in his elegant "Alma," where he
has interwoven so graceful a wreath for Pope, that could sneer at the
fine soliloquy of the Roman Cato of the Whig Addison:
I hope you would not have me die
_Like simple Cato in the play_,
For anything that he can say.
It was the same spirit which would not allow that Garth was the author
of his celebrated poem--
Garth did not write his own Dispensary,
as Pope ironically alludes to the story of the times:--a contemporary
wit has recorded this literary injury, by repeating it.[342] And
Swift, who once exclaimed to Pope, "The deuce take party!" was himself
the greatest sinner of them all. He, once the familiar friend of
Steele till party divided them, not only emptied his shaft of quivers
against his literary character, but raised the horrid yell of the
war-whoop in his inhuman exultation over the unhappy close of the
desultory life of a man of genius. Bitterly has he written--
From perils of a hundred jails,
Withdrew to starve, and die in Wales.
When Steele published "The Crisis," Swift attacked the author in so
exquisite a piece of grave irony, that I am tempted to transcribe his
inimitable parallels of a triumvirate composed of the writer of the
_Flying Post_, Dunton the literary projector, and poor Steele: the
one, the Iscariot of hackney scribes; the other a crack-brained
scribbling bookseller, who boasted he had a thousand projects, fancied
he had methodised six hundred, and was ruined by the fifty he
executed. The following is a specimen of that powerful irony in which
Swift excelled all other writers; that fine Cervantic humour, that
provoking coolness which Swift preserves while he is panegyrising the
objects of his utter contempt.
"Among the present writers on the Whig side, I can recollect but
_three_ of any great distinction, which are the _Flying Post_, Mr.
Dunton, and the Author of 'The Crisis.' The first of these seems to
have been much sunk in reputation since the sudden retreat of the only
true, genuine, original author, Mr. Ridpath, who is celebrated by the
_Dutch Gazetteer_ as one of _the best pens in England_. Mr. Dunton
hath been longer and more conversant in books than any of the three,
as well as more voluminous in his productions: however, having
employed his studies in so great a variety of other subjects, he hath,
I think, but lately turned his genius to politics. His famous tract
entitled 'Neck or Nothing' must be allowed to be the shrewdest piece,
and written with the most spirit of any which hath appeared from that
side since the change of the ministry. It is indeed a most cutting
satire upon the Lord Treasurer and Lord Bolingbroke; and I wonder none
of our friends ever undertook to answer it. I confess I was at first
of the same opinion with several good judges, who from the style and
manner suppose it to have issued from the sharp pen of the Earl of
Nottingham; and I am still apt to think it might receive his
lordship's last hand. The third and principal of this triumvirate is
the author of 'The Crisis,' who, although he must yield to the _Flying
Post_ in knowledge of the world and skill in politics, and to Mr.
Dunton in keenness of satire and variety of reading, hath yet other
qualities enough to denominate him a writer of a superior class to
either, provided he would a little regard the propriety and
disposition of his words, consult the grammatical part, and get some
information on the subject he intends to handle."[343]
So far this fine ironical satire may be inspected as a model; the
polished weapon he strikes with so gracefully, is allowed by all the
laws of war; but the political criticism on the literary character,
the party feeling which degrades a man of genius, is the drop of
poison on its point.
Steele had declared in the "Crisis" that he had always maintained an
inviolable respect for the clergy. Swift (who perhaps was aimed at in
this instance, and whose character, since the publication of "The Tale
of a Tub," lay under a suspicion of an opposite tendency) turns on
Steele with all the vigour of his wit, and all the causticity of
retort:--
"By this he would insinuate that those papers among the _Tatlers_ and
_Spectators_, where the whole order is abused, were not his own. I
will appeal to all who know the flatness of his style, and the
barrenness of his invention, whether he doth not grossly prevaricate?
_Was he ever able to walk without his leading-strings, or swim without
bladders, without being discovered by his hobbling or his sinking?_"
Such was the attack of Swift, which was pursued in the _Examiner_, and
afterwards taken up by another writer. This is one of the evils
resulting from the wantonness of genius: it gives a contagious example
to the minor race; its touch opens a new vein of invention, which the
poorer wits soon break into; the loose sketch of a feature or two from
its rapid hand is sufficient to become a minute portrait, where not a
hair is spared by the caricaturist. This happened to Steele, whose
literary was to be sacrificed to his political character; and this
superstructure was confessedly raised on the malicious hints we have
been noticing. That the _Examiner_ was the seed-plot of "The Character
of Richard St--le, Esq.," appears by its opening--"It will be no
injury, I am persuaded, to the _Examiner_ to _borrow him_ a little
(Steele), upon promise of returning him safe, as children do their
playthings, when their mirth is over, and, they have done with them."
The author of the "Character of Richard St--le, Esq.," was Dr.
Wagstaffe, one of those careless wits[344] who lived to repent a
crazy life of wit, fancy, and hope, and an easy, indolent one, whose
genial hours force up friends like hot-house plants, that bloom and
flower in the spot where they are raised, but will not endure the
change of place and season--this wit caught the tone of Swift, and
because, as his editor tells us, "he had some friends in the ministry,
and thought he could not take a better way to oblige them than by
showing his dislike to a gentleman who had so much endeavoured to
oppose them," he sat down to write a libel with all the best humour
imaginable; for, adds this editor, "he was so far from having any
personal pique or enmity against Mr. Steele, that at the time of his
writing he did not so much as know him, even by sight." This principle
of "having some friends in the ministry," and not "any knowledge" of
the character to be attacked, has proved a great source of invention
to our political adventurers;--thus Dr. Wagstaffe was fully enabled to
send down to us a character where the moral and literary qualities of
a genius, to whom this country owes so much as the father of
periodical papers, are immolated to his political purpose. This severe
character passed through several editions. However the careless Steele
might be willing to place the elaborate libel to the account of party
writings, if he did not feel disturbed at reproaches and accusations,
which are confidently urged, and at critical animadversions, to which
the negligence of his style sometimes laid him too open, his
insensibility would have betrayed a depravity in his morals and taste
which never entered into his character.[345]
Steele was doomed even to lose the friendship of Addison amid
political discords; but on that occasion Steele showed that his taste
for literature could not be injured by political animosity. It was at
the close of Addison's life, and on occasion of the Peerage Bill,
Steele published "The Plebeian," a cry against enlarging the
aristocracy. Addison replied with "The Old Whig," Steele rejoined
without alluding to the person of his opponent. But "The Old Whig"
could not restrain his political feelings, and contemptuously
described "little Dicky, whose trade it was to write pamphlets."
Steele replied with his usual warmth; but indignant at the charge of
"vassalage," he says, "I will end this paper, by firing every free
breast with that noble exhortation of the tragedian--
Remember, O my friends! the laws, the rights,
The generous plan of power deliver'd down
From age to age, &c."
Thus delicately he detects the anonymous author, and thus energetically
commends, while he reproves him!
Hooke (a Catholic), after he had written his "Roman History,"
published "Observations on Vertot, Middleton, &c., on the Roman
Senate," in which he particularly treated Dr. Middleton with a
disrespect for which the subject gave no occasion: this was attributed
to the Doctor's _offensive_ letter from Rome. Spelman, in replying to
this concealed motive of the Catholic, reprehends him with equal
humour and bitterness for his desire of _roasting a Protestant
parson_.
Our taste, rather than our passions, is here concerned; but the moral
sense still more so. The malice of faction has long produced this
literary calamity; yet great minds have not always degraded
themselves; not always resisted the impulse of their finer feelings,
by hardening them into insensibility, or goading them in the fury
of a misplaced revenge. How delightful it is to observe Marvell, the
Presbyterian and Republican wit, with that generous temper that
instantly discovers the alliance of genius, warmly applauding the
great work of Butler, which covered his own party with odium and
ridicule. "He is one of an excellent wit," says Marvell, "and
whoever dislikes the choice of his subject, cannot but commend the
performance."[346]
Clarendon's profound genius could not expand into the same liberal
feelings. He highly commends May for his learning, his wit and
language, and for his Supplement to Lucan, which he considered as "one
of the best epic poems in the English language;" but this great spirit
sadly winces in the soreness of his feelings when he alludes to May's
"History of the Parliament;" then we discover that this late
"ingenious person" performed his part "so meanly, that he seems to
have lost his wit when he left his honesty." Behold the political
criticism in literature! However we may incline to respect the
feelings of Clarendon, this will not save his judgment nor his
candour. We read May now, as well as Clarendon; nor is the work of May
that of a man who "had lost his wits," nor is it "meanly performed."
Warburton, a keen critic of the writers of that unhappy and that
glorious age for both parties, has pronounced this "History" to be "a
just composition, according to the rules of history; written with much
judgment, penetration, manliness, and spirit, and with a candour that
will greatly increase your esteem, when you understand that he wrote
by order of his masters the Parliament."
Thus have authors and their works endured the violations of party
feelings; a calamity in our national literature which has produced
much false and unjust criticism.[347] The better spirit of the present
times will maintain a safer and a more honourable principle,--the true
objects of LITERATURE, the cultivation of the intellectual faculties,
stand entirely unconnected with POLITICS and RELIGION, let this be the
imprescriptible right of an author. In our free country unhappily they
have not been separated--they run together, and in the ocean of human
opinions, the salt and bitterness of these mightier waves have
infected the clear waters from the springs of the Muses. I once read
of a certain river that ran through the sea without mixing with it,
preserving its crystalline purity and all its sweetness during its
course; so that it tasted the same at the Line as at the Poles. This
stream indeed is only to be found in the geography of an old romance;
literature should be this magical stream!