Adrian Beverland--Cecco d'Ascoli--George Buchanan--Nicodemus
Frischlin--Clement Marot--Caspar Weiser--John
Williams--Deforges--Théophile--Helot--Matteo Palmieri--La Grange--Pierre
Petit--Voltaire--Montgomery--Keats--Joseph Ritson.
The haunters of Parnassus and the wearers of the laurel crown have
usually been loved by their fellows, save only when satire has mingled
with their song and filled their victims' minds with thoughts of
vengeance. In the last chapter we have noticed some examples of
satirical writers who have clothed their libellous thoughts in verse,
and suffered in consequence. But the woes of poets, caused by those
who listened to their song, have not been numerous. Shakespeare classes
together "the lunatic, the lover, and the poet" as being "of imagination
all compact"; and perchance the poet has shared with the madman the
reverence which in some countries is bestowed on the latter.
However, all have not so escaped the destinies of fate. Some think that
Ovid incurred the wrath of Augustus Caesar through his verses on the art
of loving, and was on that account driven into exile, which he mourned
so melodiously and complained of so querulously. In a period less remote
we find Adrian Beverland wandering away from the true realm of poetry
and taking up his abode in the pesthouse of immorality. He was born at
Middlebourg in 1653, and studied letters at the University of Leyden.
He began his career by publishing indecent poems. He wrote a very
iniquitous book, _De Peccato originali_, in which he gave a very base
explanation of the sin of our first parents; and although considerable
licence was allowed to authors in the Netherlands at that time,
nevertheless the magistrates and professors of Leyden condemned the book
to be burned and its author to banishment. The full title of the work
is _Hadriani Beverlandi peccatum originale philogicé elucubratum, à
Themidis alumno. Eleutheropoli, in horto Hesperidum, typis Adami, Evae,
Terrae filii_ (1678, in-8). He seems to have followed Henri Cornelius
Agrippa in his idea that the sin of our first parents arose from sexual
desire. Leonard Ryssenius refuted the work in his _Justa detestatio
libelli sceleratissimi Hadriani Beverlandi, de Peccato originali_
(1680). He would doubtless have incurred a harder fate on account of
another immoral work, entitled _De prostibulis veterum_, if one of his
relations had not charitably committed it to the flames. Before
the sentence of banishment had been pronounced he wrote an apology,
professed penitence, and was allowed to remain at Utrecht, where he
composed several pamphlets. Being exiled on account of the indecency
of his writings, he came to England, where he affected decorum, and
his friend and countryman Isaac Vossius, who enjoyed the patronage of
Charles II. and was Canon of Windsor, obtained for him a pension charged
upon some ecclesiastical fund. Never were ecclesiastical funds applied
to a baser use; for although Beverland wrote another book [Footnote: _De
fornicatione cavendâ admonitio (Londini, Bateman_, 1697, in-8).] with
the apparent intention of warning against vice, the argument seemed to
inculcate the lusts which he condemned. Having become insane he died, in
extreme poverty, in 1712. He imagined that he was pursued by a hundred
men who had sworn to kill him.
An early poet who suffered death on account of his writings was Cecco
d'Ascoli, Professor of Astrology at the famous University of Bologna in
1322. His poems have been collected and published under the title _Opere
Poetiche del' illustro poeta Cecco d'Ascoli, cioë, l'acerba. In Venetia,
per Philippum Petri et Socios, anno 1478_, in-4. The printer of this
work, Philippus Condam Petri (Philippo de Piero Veneto) is one of the
earliest and most famous of Venetian printers, and produced several of
the incunabula which we now prize so highly. The absurdities of Cecco
contained in his poems merited for their author a place in a lunatic
asylum, rather than on a funeral pile. He was, however, burnt alive
at Bologna in 1327. He believed in the influence of evil spirits, who,
under certain constellations, had power over the affairs of men; that
our Saviour, Jesus Christ, was born under a certain constellation which
obliged Him to poverty; whereas Antichrist would come into the world
under a certain planet which would make him enormously wealthy. He
continued to proclaim these amazing delusions at Bologna, and was
condemned by the Inquisition. The poet escaped punishment by submission
and repentance. But two years later he announced to the Duke of
Calabria, who asked him to cast the horoscope of his wife and daughter,
that they would betake themselves to an infamous course of life. This
prophecy was too much for the Duke. Cecco was again summoned to appear
before the Inquisitors, who condemned him to the stake. At his execution
a large crowd assembled to see whether his familiar genii would arrest
the progress of the flames. The poet's real name was François de
Stabili, Cecco being a diminutive form of Francesco. There are many
editions of his work. The "lunatic" and the "poet" were certainly in his
case not far removed.
A very different man was the illustrious author and historian of
Scotland, George Buchanan, who was born in 1506. After studying in
Paris, he returned to Scotland, and became tutor of the Earl of Murray,
the natural son of James V. The Franciscan monks were not very popular
at this period, and at the suggestion of the King Buchanan wrote a
satirical poem entitled _Silva Franciscanorum_, in which he censured
the degenerate followers of St. Francis, and harassed them in many ways.
This poem so enraged the monks that they seized him and imprisoned
him in one of their monasteries. One night, while his guards slept,
he contrived to escape by a window, and underwent great perils. He
published two other severe satirical poems on the Franciscans, entitled
_Fratres Fraterrimi_ and _Franciscanus_. It is scarcely necessary to
follow his fortunes further, as Buchanan's history is well known. After
teaching at Paris, Bordeaux, and at Coimbre in Portugal, he returned to
Scotland, and was entrusted by Mary, Queen of Scots, with the education
of her son. Buchanan then embraced Protestantism, opposed the Queen in
the troubles which followed, and received from Parliament the charge
of the future Solomon of the North, James VI. of Scotland and I. of
England. He devoted his later life to historical studies, and produced
his famous _History of Scotland_ in twelve books, _De Maria Regina
ejusque conspiratione_, in which he attacked the reputation of the
Queen, and _De jure regni apud Scotos_, a book remarkable for the
liberalism of the ideas which were therein expressed. His royal pupil
did not treat Buchanan's History with due respect; he caused it to be
proclaimed at the Merkat Cross, and ordered every one to bring his copy
"to be perused and purged of the offensive and extraordinary matters."
In the reign of Charles II. the University of Oxford ordered Buchanan's
_De jure regni_, together with certain other works, to be publicly burnt
on account of certain obnoxious propositions deducible from them; such
as "Wicked kings and tyrants ought to be put to death." He published a
paraphrase of the Psalms of David in verse, which has been much praised.
The Jesuits were not very friendly critics of our author, for they
asserted that Buchanan showed in his life little of the piety of David,
and stated that during thirty years he did not deliver a single sermon,
even on Sundays. "But who is ignorant," observes M. Klotz, "of the lust
of these men for calumny?"
Another poet had occasion to adopt the same mode of escape which
Buchanan successfully accomplished, but with less happy results. This
was Nicodemus Frischlin, a German poet and philosopher, born in the
duchy of Würtemberg in 1547. At an early age he showed great talents;
honours clustered thickly on his brow. At the age of twenty years he
was made Professor of Belles-Lettres at Tubingen; he received from the
Emperor Rudolph the poetic crown with the title of _chevalier_, and
was made Count Palatin as a reward for his three panegyrics composed in
honour of the emperors of the House of Austria. Certainly Fortune smiled
upon her favourite, but Envy raised up many enemies, who were eager to
find occasion against the successful poet. He afforded them a pretext in
his work _De laudibus vitae rusticae_, which, in spite of its innocent
title, grievously offended the nobles, who were already embittered
against him on account of his arrogance and turbulence, and his keen
and unsparing satire. So bitter was their hostility that the poet
was compelled to leave Tubingen, and became a wandering philosopher,
sometimes teaching in schools, always pouring forth poems, elegies,
satires, tragedies, comedies, and epics. Being eager to publish some
of his works and not having sufficient means, he applied to the Duke of
Würtemberg for a subsidy, at the same time furiously attacking his old
opponents. This so exasperated the chief men of the Court, that they
persuaded the Duke to recall Frischlin; but instead of finding a welcome
from his old patron, he was cast into prison, in order that he might
unlearn his presumption, and acquire the useful knowledge that modesty
is the chief ornament of a learned man. But Frischlin did not agree with
another poet's assertion:--
"Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage."
Having raged and stormed, and tried in vain to obtain release, he
resolved to escape. From his prison window he let himself down by a rope
made out of his bed-clothes, but unfortunately the rope broke and the
poor poet fell upon the hard rocks beneath his chamber window and was
injured fatally. Frischlin was considered one of the best Latin poets
of post-classical times; but his genius was marred by his immoderate and
bitter temper, which caused him to imagine that the gentle banter and
jocular remarks of his acquaintances were insults to be repaid by angry
invective and bitter sarcasm, with which his writings abound.
Clement Marot was one of the most famous of early French poets, and the
creator of the school of naïve poetry in which La Fontaine afterwards
so remarkably excelled. His poetical version of the Psalms was read
and sung in many lands; and in spite of prohibition copies could not be
printed so fast as they were eagerly bought. They were at one time as
popular in the Court of Henry II. of France as they were amongst the
Calvinists of Geneva and Holland. In 1521 we find him fighting in the
Duke of Alençon's army, when he was wounded at the battle of Pavia. Then
his verses caused their author suffering, and he was imprisoned on the
charge of holding heretical opinions. His epistles in poetry written
to the King contain a record of his life, his fear of imprisonment, his
flight, his arrest by his enemies of the Sorbonne, his release by order
of the King, and his protestations of orthodoxy. But he seems to have
adopted the principles of the Reformation, and France was no safe place
for him. In Geneva and Piedmont he found resting-places, and died in
1544. His translation of the Psalms into harmonious verse, which
was sung both by the peasants and the learned, was the cause of his
persecution by the doctors of the Sorbonne. He complains bitterly to the
Lyons printer, Dolet, that many obscene and unworthy poems were ascribed
to him and printed amongst his works of which he was not the author. As
an example of his verse I quote the beginning of Psalm cxli.:--
"Vers l'Eternel des oppressez le pere
Je m'en iray, luy monstrant l'impropere
Que l'on me faict, luy ferai ma priere
A haulte voix, qu'il ne jette en arriere
Mes piteux cris, car en lui seul j'espere."
It is not often that a poet loses his head for a single couplet, but
this seems to have been the fate of Caspar Weiser, Professor of Lund
in Sweden. At first he showed great loyalty to his country, and wrote a
panegyric on the coronation of Charles XI., King of Sweden. But a short
time afterwards he appears to have changed his political opinions,
for when the city was captured by the Danes in 1676, Weiser met the
conqueror, and greeted him with the words:--
_Perge Triumphator reliquas submittere terras,
Sic redit ad Dominum, quod fuit ante, suum_.
This verse was fatal to him. The Swedish monarch recovered his lost
territory; the Danes were expelled, and the poor poet was accused of
treason and beheaded.
The same hard fate befell John Williams in 1619, who was hanged, drawn,
and quartered, on account of two poems, _Balaam's Ass_ and _Speculum
Regis_, the MSS. of which he foolishly sent secretly in a box to King
James. The monarch was always fearful of assassination, and as one of
the poems foretold his speedy decease, the prophet incurred the King's
wrath and suffered death for his pains.
A single poem was fatal to Deforges, entitled _Vers sur l'arrestation
du Prétendant d'Angleterre, en 1749_. It commences with the following
lines:--
"Peuple, jadis si fier, aujourd'hui si servile,
Des princes malheureux, tu n'es donc plus l'asyle?"
He happened to be present at the Opera House in Paris when the
young Pretender was arrested, and being indignant at this breach of
hospitality, and believing that the honour of the nation had been
compromised, he wrote these bitter verses. His punishment was severe. He
was arrested and conducted to the gloomy fortress of Mont-Saint-Michel,
where he remained for three long years shut up in the cage. The floor
of this terrible prison, which was enveloped in perpetual darkness, was
only eight square feet. The poor poet bore his sufferings patiently,
and was befriended by M. de Broglie, Abbé of Saint-Michel, who obtained
permission for him to leave his cage and be imprisoned in the Abbey;
nor did he fail to take precautions lest the poor poet should lose his
eyesight on passing from the darkness of the dungeon to the light of
day. The good Abbé finally procured liberty for his captive, who became
secretary to M. de Broglie's brother, and subsequently, on the death of
Madame de Pompadour, commissioner of war. Terrible were the sufferings
which the unhappy Deforges endured on account of his luckless poem.
Théophile was condemned to be burned at Paris on account of his book _Le
Parnasse des Poètes Satyriques, ou Recueil de vers piquans et gaillards
de notre temps_ (1625, in-8), but he contrived to effect his escape.
He was ultimately captured in Picardy, and put in a dungeon. He was
banished from the kingdom by order of the Parliament. In his old age he
found an asylum in the house of the Duke of Montmorency. The poet's real
surname was Viaud. The following impromptu is attributed to Théophile,
who was asked by a foolish person whether all poets were fools:--
"Oui, je l'avoue avec vous,
Que tous les poètes sont fous;
Mais sachant ce que vous êtes,
Tous les fous ne sont pas poètes."
His poems are a mere collection of impieties and obscenities, published
with the greatest impudence, and well deserved their destruction. On one
occasion he travelled to Holland with Balzac, and used this opportunity
for bringing out an infamous charge against him, which he had most
probably invented. His book, the cause of all his woes, was burnt with
the poet's effigy in 1623.
Many authors have ruined themselves by writing scandalous works,
offensive to the moral feelings of not very scrupulous ages. Several
chapters might be written on this not very savoury subject. We may
mention Hélot's _L'Escole des Filles, par dialogues_ (Paris, 1672,
in-12). Hélot was the son of a lieutenant in the King's Swiss Guard. As
he succeeded in making his escape from prison, he was hung in effigy,
and his books were burnt. Chauveau, the celebrated engraver, who
designed a beautiful engraving for Hélot, not knowing for what purpose
it was intended, also incurred great risks, but fortunately he escaped
with no greater penalty than the breaking of the plate on which he had
engraved the design. The printer suffered with the author. Some think
that Hélot was burnt at Paris with his books.
The Muses have often lured men from other and safer delights, and
tempted them to wander in dangerous paths. Matteo Palmieri was a
celebrated Italian historian, born at Florence in 1405; he was a man of
much learning, endowed with great powers of energy and perseverance; he
was entrusted with several important embassies, and achieved fame as an
historian by his vast work _Chronicon Générale_, in which he set himself
the appalling task of writing the history of the world from the creation
to his own time. The first part of this work, consisting of extracts
from the writings of Eusebius and Prosper, remains unpublished. The rest
first saw the light in 1475, and subsequent editions appeared at Venice
in 1483, and at Basle in 1529 and 1536. He wrote also four books on
the Pisan War. Would that he had confined himself to his histories!
Unfortunately he wrote a poem, which was never published, entitled
_Citta Divina_, representing the soul released from the chains of the
body, and freed from earthly stain, wandering through various places,
and at last resting amid the company of the blessed in heaven. Our
souls are angels who in the revolt of Lucifer were unwilling to attach
themselves either to God or to the rebel hosts of heaven. So, as
a punishment, God made them dwell in mortal bodies in a state of
probation. This work was considered tainted with the Manichaean heresy,
and was condemned to the flames, and some assert that Palmieri shared
the fate of his book. This, however, is doubtful.
Very fatal to himself were the odes and philippics of M. La Grange,
written in 1720, and published in Paris in 1795, in-12, with the
title _Les Philippiques, Odes, par M. de la Grange-Chancel, Seigneur
d'Antoniat en Périgord, avec notes historiques, critiques, et
littéraires_. In these poems he attacked with malignant fury the Duke of
Orleans, Regent of France, and was obliged to fly for safety to Avignon.
There he was betrayed by a false friend, who persuaded him to walk into
French territory, and delivered him into the hands of a band of soldiers
prepared for his capture. The poet was conducted to the Isle of Ste.
Marguerite, and confined in a dungeon. The governor of the castle was
enchanted by his talents and gaiety, and gave him great liberty. But
Le Grange's pen was still restless. He must needs make a bitter epigram
upon his kind benefactor, which so aroused the governor's ire that the
poet was sent back to his dungeon cell. A piteous ode addressed to the
Regent imploring pardon secured for him a less rigorous confinement. He
succeeded in effecting his escape; then wandered through many lands;
and at last, on the death of the Regent in 1723, ventured to return
to France, where he lived many years and wrote much poetry and several
plays, dying in 1758. It has never been ascertained what was the cause
of his animosity to the Regent; certainly his verses glow with fiery
invective and abuse. He speaks of him as _un monstre farouche_. The
following example will perhaps be sufficient to be quoted:--
"Il ouvrit à peine les paupières,
Que, tel qu'il se montre aujourd'hui,
Il fut indigné des barrières
Qu'il vit entre le trône et lui.
Dans ses détestables idées
De l'art des Circés, des Médées,
Il fit ses uniques plaisirs;
Il crut cette voie infernale
Digne de remplir l'intervalle
Qui s'opposait à ses désirs."
Voltaire suffered one year's imprisonment in the Bastille on account of
a satirical poem on Louis XIV., and in confinement wrote an epic poem,
_La Henriade_. Some other storms raised by his works, such as his
_Lettres Philosophiques_ and his _Epître à Uranie_, he weathered by
flight, or by unscrupulously denying their authorship. The rest of his
works, contained in seventy volumes, do not concern our present purpose.
Our English poet James Montgomery began life as a poor shop-boy. At an
early age he began to write verses, and became editor of a Sheffield
newspaper. The troubles of the French Revolution then broke out, and
fired the extreme Radical spirit of the poetical editor. His writings
attracted the attention of the Government, and he was sent to prison,
where he wrote several poems--_Ode to the Evening Star, Pleasures of
Imprisonment_, and _Verses to a Robin Redbreast_.
As late as the middle of the seventeenth century a young unfortunate
poet, in spite of the interest of powerful friends, was hung and burnt
at Paris. This was young Pierre Petit, the author of _La B---- céleste,
chansons et autres Poésies libres_. His productions were certainly
infamous and scandalous, but that was no reason why the poet should have
been hanged. Moreover the poems existed only in MS.; subsequently they
were published in a _Recueil de Poésies_. The manner of the discovery
of the poems is curious, and serves as a warning to incautious bards.
Leaving his chamber one day, he opened the window, and unfortunately a
strong gust of wind carried several pages of MS. which were lying on
his table into the street. A priest who happened to be passing the house
examined one or two of the drifting poems, and, discovering that they
were impious, denounced Petit to the authorities. His rooms furnished
a large supply of similar work, and, as we have said, the poet paid the
penalty for his rashness at the gallows.
Although the methods of later critics are less severe than their
inquisitorial predecessors, they have not been without their victims,
and books maltreated by them have sometimes "done to death" their
authors.
A century ago furious invective was the fashion, and the tender mercies
of the reviewers were cruel. Poor Keats died of criticism, if Shelley's
story be true. On the appearance of _Endymion_ the review in _Blackwood_
told the young poet "to go back to his gallipots," and that it was a
wiser and better thing to be a starved apothecary than a starved poet.
Such vulgar abuse was certainly not criticism. Shelley wrote that "the
savage criticism on Keats' _Endymion_ which appeared in the _Quarterly
Review_ produced the most violent effects on his susceptible mind; the
agitation thus originated ended in the rupture of a blood-vessel in the
lungs; a rapid consumption ensued, and the succeeding acknowledgments
from more candid critics of the true greatness of his powers were
ineffectual to heal the wound thus wantonly inflicted. It may be well
said, that these wretched men know not what they do. They scatter their
insults and their slanders without heed as to whether the poisonous
shafts light on a heart made callous by many blows, or one like Keats',
composed of more penetrable stuff." And then addressing the reviewer he
says: "Miserable man! you, one of the meanest, have wantonly defaced one
of the noblest specimens of the workmanship of God. Nor shall it be
your excuse that, murderer as you are, you have spoken daggers, but used
none."
Joseph Ritson, the antiquary, who, though not a poet, was a great writer
on poetry and our early English songs and ballads, complained bitterly
of the ignorant reviewers, and described himself as brought to an end
in ill-health and low spirits--certain to be insulted by a base and
prostitute gang of lurking assassins who stab in the dark, and whose
poisoned daggers he had already experienced. Ritson himself was a
fairly venomous critic, and the "Ritsonian" style has become proverbial.
Nowadays authors do not usually die of criticism, not even susceptible
poets. Critics can still be severe enough, but they are just and
generous, and never descend to that scurrilous personal abuse of authors
which inflicted such severe wounds a century ago, and sometimes caused
to flow the very heart's blood of their victims.