Immediately the two main bodies withdrew, under their several ensigns,
to the farther parts of the library, and there entered into cabals and
consults upon the present emergency. The Moderns were in very warm
debates upon the choice of their leaders; and nothing less than the fear
impending from their enemies could have kept them from mutinies upon
this occasion. The difference was greatest among the horse, where every
private trooper pretended to the chief command, from Tasso and Milton to
Dryden and Wither. The light-horse were commanded by Cowley and
Despreaux. There came the bowmen under their valiant leaders, Descartes,
Gassendi, and Hobbes; whose strength was such that they could shoot
their arrows beyond the atmosphere, never to fall down again, but turn,
like that of Evander, into meteors; or, like the cannon-ball, into
stars. Paracelsus brought a squadron of stinkpot-flingers from the snowy
mountains of Rhaetia. There came a vast body of dragoons, of different
nations, under the leading of Harvey, their great aga: part armed with
scythes, the weapons of death; part with lances and long knives, all
steeped in poison; part shot bullets of a most malignant nature, and
used white powder, which infallibly killed without report. There came
several bodies of heavy-armed foot, all mercenaries, under the ensigns
of Guiccardini, Davila, Polydore, Virgil, Buchanan, Mariana, Camden, and
others. The engineers were commanded by Regiomontanus and Wilkins. The
rest was a confused multitude, led by Scotus, Aquinas, and Bellarmine;
of mighty bulk and stature, but without either arms, courage, or
discipline. In the last place came infinite swarms of calones, a
disorderly rout led by L'Estrange; rogues and ragamuffins, that follow
the camp for nothing but the plunder, all without coats to cover them.
The Army of the Ancients was much fewer in number; Homer led the horse,
and Pindar the light-horse; Euclid was chief engineer; Plato and
Aristotle commanded the bowmen; Herodotus and Livy the foot;
Hippocrates, the dragoons; the allies, led by Vossius and Temple,
brought up the rear.
All things violently tending to a decisive battle, Fame, who much
frequented, and had a large apartment assigned her in the regal library,
fled up straight to Jupiter, to whom she delivered a faithful account of
all that passed between the two parties below; for among the Gods she
always tells truth. Jove, in great concern, convokes a council in the
Milky Way. The senate assembled, he declares the occasion of convening
them; a bloody battle just impendent between two mighty armies of
ancient and modern creatures, called books, wherein the celestial
interest was but too deeply concerned. Momus, the patron of the Moderns,
made an excellent speech in their favour, which was answered by Pallas,
the protectress of the Ancients. The assembly was divided in their
affections; when Jupiter commanded the Book of Fate to be laid before
him. Immediately were brought by Mercury three large volumes in folio,
containing memoirs of all things past, present, and to come. The clasps
were of silver double gilt, the covers of celestial turkey leather, and
the paper such as here on earth might almost pass for vellum. Jupiter,
having silently read the decree, would communicate the import to none,
but presently shut up the book....
Meanwhile Momus, fearing the worst, and calling to mind an ancient
prophecy which bore no very good face to his children the Moderns, bent
his flight to the region of a malignant deity called Criticism. She
dwelt on the top of a snowy mountain in Nova Zembla; there Momus found
her extended in her den, upon the spoils of numberless volumes, half
devoured. At her right hand sat Ignorance, her father and husband, blind
with age; at her left, Pride, her mother, dressing her up in the scraps
of paper herself had torn. There was Opinion, her sister, light of foot,
hoodwinked, and headstrong, yet giddy and perpetually turning. About her
played her children, Noise and Impudence, Dullness and Vanity,
Positiveness, Pedantry, and Ill-manners.... 'Goddess,' said Momus, 'can
you sit idly here while our devout worshippers, the Moderns, are this
minute entering into a cruel battle, and perhaps now lying under the
swords of their enemies? Who then hereafter will ever sacrifice or build
altars to our divinities? Haste, therefore, to the British Isle, and, if
possible, prevent their destruction; while I make factions among the
gods, and gain them over to our party.' ...
The goddess and her train, having mounted the chariot, which was drawn
by tame geese, flew over infinite regions, shedding her influence in due
places, till at length she arrived at her beloved island of Britain; but
in hovering over its metropolis, what blessings did she not let fall
upon her seminaries of Gresham and Covent Garden! And now she reached
the fatal plain of St. James's library, at what time the two armies were
upon the point to engage; where, entering with all her caravan unseen,
and landing upon a case of shelves, now desert, but once inhabited by a
colony of virtuosos, she stayed awhile to observe the posture of both
armies.--J. SWIFT. _The Battle of the Books._