WHEN the right virtuous Edward Wotton {1} and I were at the Emperor’s
court together, we gave ourselves to learn horsemanship of Gio. Pietro
Pugliano; one that, with great commendation, had the place of an esquire
in his stable; and he, according to the fertileness of the Italian wit,
did not only afford us the demonstration of his practice, but sought to
enrich our minds with the contemplation therein, which he thought most
precious. But with none, I remember, mine ears were at any time more
laden, than when (either angered with slow payment, or moved with our
learner-like admiration) he exercised his speech in the praise of his
faculty.
He said, soldiers were the noblest estate of mankind, and horsemen the
noblest of soldiers. He said, they were the masters of war and ornaments
of peace, speedy goers, and strong abiders, triumphers both in camps and
courts; nay, to so unbelieved a point he proceeded, as that no earthly
thing bred such wonder to a prince, as to be a good horseman; skill of
government was but a “pedanteria” in comparison. Then would he add
certain praises by telling what a peerless beast the horse was, the only
serviceable courtier, without flattery, the beast of most beauty,
faithfulness, courage, and such more, that if I had not been a piece of a
logician before I came to him, I think he would have persuaded me to have
wished myself a horse. But thus much, at least, with his no few words,
he drove into me, that self love is better than any gilding, to make that
seem gorgeous wherein ourselves be parties.
Wherein, if Pugliano’s strong affection and weak arguments will not
satisfy you, I will give you a nearer example of myself, who, I know not
by what mischance, in these my not old years and idlest times, having
slipped into the title of a poet, am provoked to say something unto you
in the defence of that my unelected vocation; which if I handle with more
good will than good reasons, bear with me, since the scholar is to be
pardoned that followeth the steps of his master.
And yet I must say, that as I have more just cause to make a pitiful
defence of poor poetry, which, from almost the highest estimation of
learning, is fallen to be the laughing-stock of children; so have I need
to bring some more available proofs, since the former is by no man barred
of his deserved credit, whereas the silly latter hath had even the names
of philosophers used to the defacing of it, with great danger of civil
war among the Muses. {2}
At first, truly, to all them that, professing learning, inveigh against
poetry, may justly be objected, that they go very near to ungratefulness
to seek to deface that which, in the noblest nations and languages that
are known, hath been the first light-giver to ignorance, and first nurse,
whose milk by little and little enabled them to feed afterwards of
tougher knowledges. And will you play the hedgehog, that being received
into the den, drove out his host? {3} or rather the vipers, that with
their birth kill their parents? {4}
Let learned Greece, in any of her manifold sciences, be able to show me
one book before Musæus, Homer, and Hesiod, all three nothing else but
poets. Nay, let any history he brought that can say any writers were
there before them, if they were not men of the same skill, as Orpheus,
Linus, and some others are named, who having been the first of that
country that made pens deliverers of their knowledge to posterity, may
justly challenge to be called their fathers in learning. For not only in
time they had this priority (although in itself antiquity be venerable)
but went before them as causes to draw with their charming sweetness the
wild untamed wits to an admiration of knowledge. So as Amphion was said
to move stones with his poetry to build Thebes, and Orpheus to be
listened to by beasts, indeed, stony and beastly people, so among the
Romans were Livius Andronicus, and Ennius; so in the Italian language,
the first that made it to aspire to be a treasure-house of science, were
the poets Dante, Boccace, and Petrarch; so in our English were Gower and
Chaucer; after whom, encouraged and delighted with their excellent
foregoing, others have followed to beautify our mother tongue, as well in
the same kind as other arts.
This {5} did so notably show itself that the philosophers of Greece durst
not a long time appear to the world but under the mask of poets; so
Thales, Empedocles, and Parmenides sang their natural philosophy in
verses; so did Pythagoras and Phocylides their moral counsels; so did
Tyrtæus in war matters; and Solon in matters of policy; or rather they,
being poets, did exercise their delightful vein in those points of
highest knowledge, which before them lay hidden to the world; for that
wise Solon was directly a poet it is manifest, having written in verse
the notable fable of the Atlantic Island, which was continued by Plato.
{6} And, truly, even Plato, whosoever well considereth shall find that
in the body of his work, though the inside and strength were philosophy,
the skin, as it were, and beauty depended most of poetry. For all stands
upon dialogues; wherein he feigns many honest burgesses of Athens
speaking of such matters that if they had been set on the rack they would
never have confessed them; besides, his poetical describing the
circumstances of their meetings, as the well-ordering of a banquet, the
delicacy of a walk, with interlacing mere tiles, as Gyges’s Ring, {7} and
others; which, who knows not to be flowers of poetry, did never walk into
Apollo’s garden.
And {8} even historiographers, although their lips sound of things done,
and verity be written in their foreheads, have been glad to borrow both
fashion and, perchance, weight of the poets; so Herodotus entitled the
books of his history by the names of the Nine Muses; and both he, and all
the rest that followed him, either stole or usurped, of poetry, their
passionate describing of passions, the many particularities of battles
which no man could affirm; or, if that be denied me, long orations, put
in the months of great kings and captains, which it is certain they never
pronounced.
So that, truly, neither philosopher nor historiographer could, at the
first, have entered into the gates of popular judgments, if they had not
taken a great disport of poetry; which in all nations, at this day, where
learning flourisheth not, is plain to be seen; in all which they have
some feeling of poetry. In Turkey, besides their lawgiving divines they
have no other writers but poets. In our neighbour-country Ireland,
where, too, learning goes very bare, yet are their poets held in a devout
reverence. Even among the most barbarous and simple Indians, where no
writing is, yet have they their poets who make and sing songs, which they
call “Arentos,” both of their ancestor’s deeds and praises of their gods.
A sufficient probability, that if ever learning comes among them, it must
be by having their hard dull wits softened and sharpened with the sweet
delight of poetry; for until they find a pleasure in the exercise of the
mind, great promises of much knowledge will little persuade them that
know not the fruits of knowledge. In Wales, the true remnant of the
ancient Britons, as there are good authorities to show the long time they
had poets, which they called bards, so through all the conquests of
Romans, Saxons, Danes, and Normans, some of whom did seek to ruin all
memory of learning from among them, yet do their poets, even to this day,
last; so as it is not more notable in the soon beginning than in
long-continuing.
But since the authors of most of our sciences were the Romans, and before
them the Greeks, let us, a little, stand upon their authorities; but even
so far, as to see what names they have given unto this now scorned skill.
{9} Among the Romans a poet was called “vates,” which is as much as a
diviner, foreseer, or prophet, as by his conjoined words “vaticinium,”
and “vaticinari,” is manifest; so heavenly a title did that excellent
people bestow upon this heart-ravishing knowledge! And so far were they
carried into the admiration thereof, that they thought in the changeable
hitting upon any such verses, great foretokens of their following
fortunes were placed. Whereupon grew the word of sortes Virgilianæ;
when, by sudden opening Virgil’s book, they lighted upon some verse, as
it is reported by many, whereof the histories of the Emperors’ lives are
full. As of Albinus, the governor of our island, who, in his childhood,
met with this verse—