May I ne’er live that grievous blessed life;—

But tell me, man, why valuest thou go high

Th’ unjust beatitude of tyranny?[59]

except, as I said, we allow him the use of these words in a

metaphorical and abusive sense. But enough hath been spoken of these

matters.

7. Nevertheless, this principle is not once only but often to be

inculcated and pressed on young men, that poetry, when it undertakes

a fictitious argument by way of imitation, though it make use of such

ornament and illustration as suit the actions and manners treated

of, yet disclaims not all likelihood of truth, seeing the force of

imitation, in order to the persuading of men, lies in probability.

Wherefore such imitation as does not altogether shake hands with truth

carries along with it certain signs of virtue and vice mixed together

in the actions which it doth represent. And of this nature is Homer’s

poetry, which totally bids adieu to Stoicism, the principles whereof

will not admit any vice to come near where virtue is, nor virtue to

have any thing to do where any vice lodgeth, but affirms that he that

is not a wise man can do nothing well, and he that is so can do nothing

amiss. Thus they determine in the schools. But in human actions and the

affairs of common life the judgment of Euripides is verified, that

Virtue and vice ne’er separately exist,

But in the same acts with each other twist.[60]

Next, it is to be observed that poetry, waiving the truth of things,

does most labor to beautify its fictions with variety and multiplicity

of contrivance. For variety bestows upon fable all that is pathetical,

unusual, and surprising, and thereby makes it more taking and graceful;

whereas what is void of variety is unsuitable to the nature of fable,

and so raiseth no passions at all. Upon which design of variety it

is, that the poets never represent the same persons always victorious

or prosperous or acting with the same constant tenor of virtue;—yea,

even the Gods themselves, when they engage in human actions, are not

represented as free from passions and errors;—lest, for the want of

some difficulties and cross passages, their poems should be destitute

of that briskness which is requisite to move and astonish the minds of

men.

8. These things therefore so standing, we should, when we enter a young

man into the study of the poets, endeavor to free his mind from that

degree of esteem of the good and great personages in them described

as may incline him to think them to be mirrors of wisdom and justice,

the chief of princes, and the exemplary measures of all virtue and

goodness. For he will receive much prejudice, if he shall approve and

admire all that comes from such persons as great, if he dislike nothing

in them himself, nor will endure to hear others blame them, though for

such words and actions as the following passages import:—

Oh! would to all the immortal powers above,

Apollo, Pallas, and almighty Jove!

That not one Trojan might be left alive,

And not a Greek of all the race survive.

Might only we the vast destruction shun,

And only we destroy the accursed town!

Her breast all gore, with lamentable cries,

The bleeding innocent Cassandra dies,

Murdered by Clytemnestra’s faithless hand:

Lie with thy father’s whore, my mother said,

That she th’ old man may loathe; and I obeyed.

Of all the Gods, O father Jove, there’s none

Thus given to mischief but thyself alone.[61]

Our young man is to be taught not to commend such things as these,

no, nor to show the nimbleness of his wit or subtlety in maintaining

an argument by finding out plausible colors and pretences to varnish

over a bad matter. But we should teach him rather to judge that

poetry is an imitation of the manners and lives of such men as are

not perfectly pure and unblamable, but such as are tinctured with

passions, misled by false opinions, and muffled with ignorance; though

oftentimes they may, by the help of a good natural temper, change them

for better qualities. For the young man’s mind, being thus prepared

and disposed, will receive no damage by such passages when he meets

with them in poems, but will on the one side be elevated with rapture

at those things which are well said or done, and on the other, will

not entertain but dislike those which are of a contrary character. But

he that admires and is transported with every thing, as having his

judgment enslaved by the esteem he hath for the names of heroes, will

be unawares wheedled into many evil things, and be guilty of the same

folly with those who imitate the crookedness of Plato or the lisping

of Aristotle. Neither must he carry himself timorously herein, nor,

like a superstitious person in a temple, tremblingly adore all he meets

with; but use himself to such confidence as may enable him openly to

pronounce, This was ill or incongruously said, and, That was bravely

and gallantly spoken. For example, Achilles in Homer, being offended at

the spinning out that war by delays, wherein he was desirous by feats

of arms to purchase to himself glory, calls the soldiers together when

there was an epidemical disease among them. But having himself some

smattering skill in physic, and perceiving after the ninth day, which

useth to be decretory in such cases, that the disease was no usual one

nor proceeding from ordinary causes, when he stands up to speak, he

waives applying himself to the soldiers, and addresseth himself as a

councillor to the general, thus:—

Why leave we not the fatal Trojan shore,

And measure back the seas we cross’d before?[62]

And he spake well, and with due moderation and decorum. But when the

soothsayer Chalcas had told him that he feared the wrath of the most

potent among the Grecians, after an oath that while he lived no man

should lay violent hands on him, he adds, but not with like wisdom and

moderation,

Not e’en the chief by whom our hosts are led,

The king of kings, shall touch that sacred head;

in which speech he declares his low opinion or rather his contempt of

his chief commander. And then, being farther provoked, he drew his

weapon with a design to kill him, which attempt was neither good nor

expedient. And therefore by and by he repented his rashness,—

He said, observant of the blue-eyed maid;

Then in the sheath returned the shining blade;

wherein again he did rightly and worthily, in that, though he could not

altogether quell his passion, yet he restrained and reduced it under

the command of reason, before it brake forth into such an irreparable

act of mischief. Again, even Agamemnon himself talks in that assembly

ridiculously, but carries himself more gravely and more like a prince

in the matter of Chryseis. For whereas Achilles, when his Briseis was

taken away from him,

In sullenness withdraws from all his friends,

And in his tent his time lamenting spends;

Agamemnon himself hands into the ship, delivers to her friends, and so

sends from him, the woman concerning whom a little before he declared

that he loved her better than his wife; and in that action did nothing

unbecoming or savoring of fond affection. Also Phoenix, when his father

bitterly cursed him for having to do with one that was his own harlot,

says,

Him in my rage I purposed to have killed,

But that my hand some God in kindness held;

And minded me that Greeks would taunting say,

Lo, here’s the man that did his father slay.

It is true that Aristarchus was afraid to permit these verses to stand

in the poet, and therefore censured them to be expunged. But they were

inserted by Homer very aptly to the occasion of Phoenix’s instructing

Achilles what a pernicious thing anger is, and what foul acts men do by

its instigation, while they are capable neither of making use of their

own reason nor of hearing the counsel of others. To which end he also

introduceth Meleager at first highly offended with his citizens, and

afterwards pacified; justly therein reprehending disordered passions,

and praising it as a good and profitable thing not to yield to them,

but to resist and overcome them, and to repent when one hath been

overcome by them.

Now in these instances the difference is manifest. But where a like

clear judgment cannot be passed, there we are to settle the young

man’s mind thus, by way of distinction. If Nausicaa, having cast her

eyes upon Ulysses, a stranger, and feeling the same passion for him as

Calypso had before, did (as one that was ripe for a husband) out of

wantonness talk with her maidens at this foolish rate,—

O Heaven! in my connubial hour decree

This man my spouse, or such a spouse as he![63]

she is blameworthy for her impudence and incontinence. But if,

perceiving the man’s breeding by his discourse, and admiring the

prudence of his addresses, she rather wisheth to have such a one for a

husband than a merchant or a dancing gallant of her fellow-citizens,

she is to be commended. And when Ulysses is represented as rejoicing

at Penelope’s jocular conversation with her wooers, and at their

presenting her with rich garments and other ornaments,

Because she cunningly the fools cajoled.

And bartered light words for their heavy gold;[64]

if that joy were occasioned by greediness and covetousness, he

discovers himself to be a more sordid prostituter of his own wife than

Poliager is wont to be represented on the stage to have been, of whom

it is said,—

Happy man he, whose wife, like Capricorn,

Stores him with riches from a golden horn!

But if through foresight he thought thereby to get them the more within

his power, as being lulled asleep in security for the future by the

hopes she gave them at present, this rejoicing, joined with confidence

in his wife, was rational. Again, when he is brought in numbering the

goods which the Phaeacians had set on shore together with himself and

departed; if indeed, being himself left in such a solitude, so ignorant

where he was, and having no security there for his own person, he is

yet solicitous for his goods, lest

The sly Phaeacians, when they stole to sea,

Had stolen some part of what they brought away;[65]

the covetousness of the man deserved in truth to be pitied, or

rather abhorred. But if, as some say in his defence, being doubtful

whether or no the place where he was landed were Ithaca, he made use

of the just tale of his goods to infer thence the honesty of the

Phaeacians,—because it was not likely they would expose him in a

strange place and leave him there with his goods by him untouched, so

as to get nothing by their dishonesty,—then he makes use of a very fit

test for this purpose, and deserves commendation for his wisdom in

that action. Some also there are who find fault with that passage of

the putting him on shore when he was asleep, if it really so happened,

and they tell us that the people of Tuscany have still a traditional

story among them concerning Ulysses, that he was naturally sleepy, and

therefore a man whom many men could not freely converse with. But if

his sleep was but feigned, and he made use of this pretence only of

a natural infirmity, by counterfeiting a nap, to hide the strait he

was in at that time in his thoughts, betwixt the shame of sending away

the Phaeacians without giving them a friendly collation and hospitable

gifts, and the fear he had of being discovered to his enemies by the

treating such a company of men together, they then approve it.

Now, by showing young men these things, we shall preserve them from

being carried away to any corruption in their manners, and dispose

them to the election and imitation of those that are good, as being

before instructed readily to disapprove those and commend these. But

this ought with the most care to be done in the reading of tragedies

wherein probable and subtle speeches are made use of in the most foul

and wicked actions. For that is not always true which Sophocles saith,

that

From naughty acts good words can ne’er proceed.

For even he himself is wont to apply pleasant reasonings and plausible

arguments to those manners and actions which are wicked or unbecoming.

And in another of his fellow-tragedians, we may see even Phaedra

herself represented as justifying her unlawful affection for Hippolytus

by accusing Theseus of ill-carriage towards her. And in his Troades,

he allows Helen the same liberty of speech against Hecuba, whom she

judgeth to be more worthy of punishment than herself for her adultery,

because she was the mother of Paris that tempted her thereto. A young

man therefore must not be accustomed to think any thing of that nature

handsomely or wittily spoken, nor to be pleased with such colorable

inventions; but rather more to abhor such words as tend to the defence

of wanton acts than the very acts themselves.

9. And lastly, it will be useful likewise to enquire into the cause why

each thing is said. For so Cato, when he was a boy, though he was wont

to be very observant of all his master’s commands, yet withal used to

ask the cause or reason why he so commanded. But poets are not to be

obeyed as pedagogues and lawgivers are, except they have reason to back

what they say. And that they will not want, when they speak well; and

if they speak ill, what they say will appear vain and frivolous. But

nowadays most young men very briskly demand the reason of such trivial

speeches as these, and enquire in what sense they are spoken:

It bodes ill luck, when vessels you set up,

To place the ladle on the mixing-cup.

Who from his chariot to another’s leaps,

Seldom his seat without a combat keeps.[66]

But to those of greater moment they give credence without examination,

as to those that follow:

The boldest men are daunted oftentimes,

When they’re reproached with their parents’ crimes:[67]

When any man is crushed by adverse fate,

His spirit should be low as his estate.

And yet such speeches relate to manners, and disquiet men’s lives

by begetting in them evil opinions and unworthy sentiments, except

they have learned to return answer to each of them thus: “Wherefore

is it necessary that a man who is crushed by adverse fate should

have a dejected spirit? Yea, why rather should he not struggle

against Fortune, and raise himself above the pressures of his low

circumstances? Why, if I myself be a good and wise son of an evil and

foolish father, does it not rather become me to bear myself confidently

upon the account of my own virtue, than to be dejected and dispirited

because of my father’s defects?” For he that can encounter such

speeches and oppose them after this manner, not yielding himself up to

be overset with the blast of every saying, but approving that speech of

Heraclitus, that

Whate’er is said, though void of sense and wit,

The size of a fool’s intellect doth fit,

will reject many such things as falsely and idly spoken.

10. These things therefore may be of use to preserve us from the

hurt we might get by the study of poems. Now, as on a vine the

fruit oftentimes lies shadowed and hidden under its large leaves

and luxuriant branches, so in the poet’s phrases and fictions that

encompass them there are also many profitable and useful things

concealed from the view of young men. This, however, ought not to be

suffered; nor should we be led away from things themselves thus, but

rather adhere to such of them as tend to the promoting of virtue and

the well forming of our manners. It will not be altogether useless

therefore, to treat briefly in the next place of passages of that

nature. Wherein I intend to touch only at some particulars, leaving

all longer discourses, and the trimming up and furnishing them with

a multitude of instances, to those who write more for show and

ostentation.

First, therefore, let our young man be taught to understand good and

bad manners and persons, and from thence apply his mind to the words

and deeds which the poet decently assigns to either of them. For

example, Achilles, though in some wrath, speaks to Agamemnon thus

decently:

Nor, when we take a Trojan town, can I

With thee in spoils and splendid prizes vie;[68]

whereas Thersites to the same person speaks reproachfully in this

manner:—

’Tis thine whate’er the warrior’s breast inflames,

The golden spoil, and thine the lovely dames.

With all the wealth our wars and blood bestow,

Thy tents are crowded and thy chests o’erflow.

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