many a good _Genius_; I mean, wrong Application. Nothing will
satisfie Parents, but their Children must apply their Minds to
one of the learned Professions, when, instead of consulting the
Reputation or Interest of their Children, by such a preposterous
Choice, they turn them out to live in an Element no way suited to
their Nature, and expose them to Contempt and Beggary all their
Days; while at the same Time they spoil an Head, admirably turn'd
for Traffick or Mechanicks. And he is left to bring up the Rear
in the learned Profession, or it may be lost in the Crowd, who
would have shined in Trade, and made a prime Figure upon the
Exchange. Many have by this Means _run their Heads against a
Pulpit_, (as a Satyrical _Genius_ once expressed it) _who would
have made admirable Ploughmen_.
There is a different Taste in Men, as to the learned Professions
themselves, which qualities and disposes them for the one, but
would never make them appear with any Lustre in another. This has
been often made evident in the different Figures, which some, who
lived in Obscurity before, have made upon a lucky Incident that
led them out of the mistaken Track into which they were first
put. Where Providence does not relieve a _Genius_ from this Error
in setting out, the Man must be kept under the Hatches all his
Days.
There are very different Manners of Writing, and each of them
just and agreeable in their Kind, when Nature is followed, and a
Man endeavours Perfection in that Style and Manner which suits
his own Humour and Abilities. Some please, and indeed excel in a
Mediocrity, [L]who quite lose themselves if they attempt the
Sublime. Some succeed to a wonder in the Account of all Readers
whilst they confine themselves to close Reasoning; who, if they
are so ill advise'd, as to meddle with Wit; only make themselves
the Jest. [M]That is easy and agreeable which is natural; what is
forc'd, will appear distorted and give Disgust.
[L] _Dum vitat humum, nubes et inania captet_. Horat.
[M] _Ingenio, sicut in Agro, quanquam alia diu Serantur
atque elaborentur, gratiora tamen quae suâ sponte nascuntur_.
Tacit. de Orator, c. 6.
It is of fatal Consequence to a good _Genius_ to grasp at too
much. "A certain Magistrate (says _Bruyere_) arriving, by his
Merit, to the first Dignities of the Gown, thought himself
qualified for every Thing. He printed a Treatise of Morality, and
published himself a Coxcomb." Universal _Genij_ and universal
Scholars are generally excellent at nothing. He is certainly the
wisest Man, who endeavours to be perfectly furnished for some
Business, and regards other Matters as no more than his
Amusement.
A _Genius_ being thus observed, humoured and cultivated, is to be
kept in Heart, and upon proper Occasions to be exerted. Without
this, it may sink and be lost. All Habits are weakened by Disuse.
And Men who are furnished with a _Genius_, for publick
Usefulness, should put themselves forward; I mean, with due
Modesty and Prudence, and not suffer their Talents to be hid,
when a fair Opportunity offers to do Service with them. Indeed it
is too common an Unhappiness for Men to be so placed, as to have
no Opportunity and Advantage for shewing their _Genius_. As
Matters are generally managed in the World, Men are for the most
part staked down to such Business, in such Alliances, or in such
Circumstances, that they have no proper Occasions of exerting
themselves; but instead of that, are continually tugging and
striving with things that are cross and ungrateful to them. And
that must be a strong Mind indeed, that shall break through the
Censures and Opposition of the World, and dare to quit a Station,
for which a Man has been brought up, and in which he has acted
for some Time, that he may get into another Sphere, where he sees
he can act according to the Impulses of his _Genius_. Tho' such
as have had the Courage and Skill to follow those Impulses, till
they have gain'd the Stations which suited their Taste and
Inclination, have seldom fail'd of appearing considerable. But
Multitudes, by this Situation of Affairs, have been forc'd, in a
manner, to stifle a _Genius_, because they could have no fair
Opportunity of exerting it.
A crazy Constitution, and a Body liable to continual Disorders,
call off the Attention of many a great Mind, from what might
otherwise procure very great Reputation and Regard. Their
_Genius_ no sooner begins a little to exert itself, but the
Spirits flag, and one unhappy Ail or other, enfeebles and
discourages the Mind.
Lust and Wine mightily obstruct all Attempts that require
Application; and will neither allow a Man duly to furnish his
Mind, nor rightly to use that Furniture he has. An Intrigue or a
Bottle may sometimes give an Opportunity for a Man to shew his
_Genius_, but will utterly spoil all regular and reputable
Exertings of it. He who would put forth his _Genius_ to the
Advantage of Himself or the World, should give into no Pleasures
that will enervate or dissolve his Mind. He must keep it bent for
Business, or he will bring all Business to nothing.
Conceit and Affectation on one hand, and Peevishness and
Perverseness of Temper on the other, will lay the best _Genius_
under great Disadvantages, and raise such Dislike and Opposition,
as will bear it down in spite of all its Force and Furniture. A
graceful Mixture of Boldness and Modesty, with a Smoothness and
Benignity of Temper, will much better make a Man's Way into the
World, and procure him the Opportunity of exerting his _Genius_.
But there is nothing lies as an heavier Weight upon a Man, or
hinders Him more from shewing Himself to Advantage, and employing
his great Abilities for the Service of Others; than the Quarrels
and Contentions of Parties. Many have their Talents imprison'd,
by being of the hated and sinking Side. Their Light is wholly
smother'd and suppress'd, that it may not shine out with a Lustre
on the Party to which they belong, whether it be in Politicks or
Religion. And all Struggles of a _Genius_ are vain, when a Man is
born down at once by Clamour and Power.
This is very discouraging to a Man who has taken much Pains in
cultivating his _Genius_; and many have, without doubt, been
tempted wholly to neglect themselves, from the Dread of these
Discouragements. I own this Neglect is not to be excused
altogether, though it grieves one that there should be any
Occasion given for it. There is still Room for Men to follow and
improve a _Genius_, and hope by it to benefit Mankind, and
procure Regard to Themselves. And it is hard to say, what Way of
exerting it will turn most to Account. Peculiar Honours are due
to those who appear to Advantage in the _Pulpit_. Numerous
Applauses and Preferments attend those who acquit themselves well
at the _Bar_. There is a great deal of Renown to those who are
eminent in the _Senate_. There are high Advantages to such as
excel in _Counsel_ and on _Embassies_. Immortal Lawrels will
crown such as are brave, expert and victorious in _Arms_. There
are the Blessings of Wealth and Plenty to those who manage well
their _Trades_ and _Merchandize_. The Names of the skilful
_Architect_, the cunning _Artificer_, the fine, exact and well
devising _Painter_, are sometimes enrolled in the Lists of Fame.
The learned, experienced and successful _Physician_, may become
as considerable for Repute and Estate, as one of any other
Profession. _Musick_ also may have its _Masters_, who shall be
had in lasting Esteem. The _Poets_ Performances may be [N]more
durable than Brass, and long lived as Time it Self. Every
_Science_ may have Professors that shall shine in the learned
World. With all the Discouragements that may damp a _Genius_,
there is yet a wide Field for it to exert it self, and Room to
hope it will not be in vain.
[N] Exegi monumentum aere perennius
Regalique situ pyramidum altius,
Quod non imber edax, non Aquilo impotens
Possit diruere aut innumerabilis
Annorum series et fuga temporum:
Horat
I was going to add something of exerting one's _Genius_ as an
_Author_. But I found, it would fill up too much Room in my
Paper, should I enlarge on the several Ways of Mens appearing
considerable. And I was so apprehensive of the Reputation, which
the Divine, the Historian, the Critick, the Philosopher, and
almost all the other Authors, have above us _Essay-Writers_, that
I thought I should but lessen the Regards to my own _Genius_,
should I have set to View the Advantages of Others. It will
sufficiently gratify my Ambition as an Author, if the World will
be so good natured as to think I have handsomely excus'd my self;
that I am tolerably fitted, in the Way in I am, to give
Entertainment to my Readers, and do them some Service.
* * * * *
FINIS
* * * * *
ERRATA [Transcriber's Note: Not readable]
* * * * *
THE
CREATION.
A
Pindaric Illustration
OF A
POEM,
Originally written by
MOSES,
On That SUBJECT.
WITH A
PREFACE to Mr. POPE,
CONCERNING
The Sublimity of the Ancient HEBREW POETRY,
and a material and obvious Defect in the ENGLISH.
_LONDON_:
Printed for T. BICKERTON, at the _Crown_ in _Pater-noster-Row._
M. DCC. XX.
Price One Shilling.
_PREFACE to MR. POPE_
Sir,
About two Years ago, upon a slight Misapprehension of some
Expressions of yours, which my Resentment, or perhaps my Pride,
interpreted to the Disadvantage of a Poetical Trifle, I had then
newly publish'd, I suffer'd myself to be unreasonably
transported, so far, as to inscribe you an angry, and
inconsiderate Preface; without previous Examination into the
Justness of my Proceeding. I have lately had the Mortification to
learn from your own Hand that you were entirely guiltless of the
fact charg'd upon you; so that, in attempting to retaliate a
suppos'd Injury, I have done a real Injustice.
The only Thing which an honest Man ought to be more asham'd of
than his faults, is a Reluctance against confessing them. I have
already acknowledg'd mine to yourself: But no publick Guilt is
well aton'd, by a private Satisfaction; I therefore send you a
Duplicate of my Letter, by way of the World, that all, who
remember my Offence, may also witness my Repentance.
Sir,
I am under the greatest Confusion I ever felt in my Life, to
find by your Letter, that I have been guilty of a Crime, which
I can never forgive Myself, were it for no other Reason, than
that You have forgiven it. I might have learnt from your
Writings the Extent of your Soul, and shou'd have concluded it
impossible for the Author of those elevated Sentiments, to sink
beneath them in his Practice.
You are generously moderate, when you mitigate my Guilt, and
miscall it a Credulity; 'twas a passionate, and most
unjustifiable Levity, and must still have remain'd
unpardonable, whatever Truth might have been found in its
mistaken Occasion.
What stings me most, in my Reflection on this Folly, is, that
I know not how to atone it; I will endeavour it, however;
being always asham'd, when I have attempted to revenge an
Injury, but never more proud, than when I have begg'd pardon
for an Error.
If you needed an Inducement to the strengthening your
Forgiveness, you might gather it from these two
Considerations; First, The Crime was almost a Sin against
Conviction; for though not happy enough to know you
personally, your Mind had been my intimate Acquaintance, and
regarded with a kind of partial Tenderness, that made it
little less than Miracle, that I attempted to offend you. A
sudden Warmth, to which, by Nature, I am much too liable,
transported me to a Condition, I shall best describe in
Shakespear's Sense, somewhere or other.
Blind in th' obscuring Mist of heedless Rage,
I've rashly shot my Arrows o'er a House,
And hurt my Brother....
A Second Consideration is, the Occasion you have gather'd to
punish my Injustice, with more than double Sharpness, by your
Manner of receiving it. The Armour of your Mind is temper'd so
divinely, that my mere Human Weapons have not only fail'd to
pierce, but broke to pieces in rebounding. You meet Assaults,
like some expert Arabian, who, declining any Use of his own
Javelin, arrests those which come against him, in the Fierceness
of their Motion, and overcomes his Enemies, by detaining their
own Weapons. 'Tis a noble Triumph you now exercise, by the
Superiority of your Nature; and while I see you looking down upon
the Distance of my Frailty, I am forc'd to own a Glory, which I
envy you; and am quite asham'd of the poor Figure I am making, in
the bottom of the Prospect. I feel, I am sure, Remorse, enough to
satisfy you for the Wrong, but to express it, wou'd, I think,
exceed even your own Power.
Yours, whose sweet Songs can rival Orpheu's Strain,
And force the wondring Woods to dance again,
Make moving Mountains hear your pow'rful Call,
And headlong Streams hang list'ning in their Fall.
No Words can be worthy to come after these; I will therefore
hasten to tell you, that I am, and will ever be, with the
greatest Truth and Respect,
SIR,
Your Most Humble,
and Most Obedient Servant,
A. Hill.
I have now attempted, as far as I am able, to throw off a Weight,
which my Mind has been uneasy under. I cannot say, in the City
Phrase, that I have balanc'd the Account, but you must admit of
Composition, where full Payment is impossible. I shall be so far
from regretting you the old Benefit of Lex talionis, that I
forgive you heartily, beforehand, for any thing you may hereafter
think fit to say, or do, to my Disadvantage; nay, the Pleasure I
enjoy by reflecting on your good Nature, will degenerate to a
Pain, if one Accident or other, in the Course of your Life, does
not favour me with some Occasion of advancing your Interest.
Having said thus much to you, in your Quality of a Good Man, I
will proceed to address you, in your other Quality, of a Great
Poet; in which Light I look up to you with extraordinary Comfort,
as to a new Constellation breaking out upon our World, with equal
Heat, and Brightness, and cross-spangling, as it were, the whole
Heaven of Wit with your milky way of Genius.
You cou'd never have been born at a Time, which more wanted the
Influence of your Example: All the Fire you bring with you, and
the Judgment you are acquiring, in the Course of your Journey,
will be put to their full stress, to support and rebuild the
sinking Honours of Poetry.
It was a Custom, which prevail'd generally among the Ancients, to
impute Celestial Descent to their Heroes; The Vanity, methinks,
might have been pardonable, and rational, if apply'd to an Art;
since Arts, when they are at once delightful and profitable, as
you will certainly leave Poetry, have one real Mark of Divinity,
they become, in some measure, immortal. And as the oldest, and, I
think, the sublimest Poem in the World, is of Hebrew Original,
and was made immediately after passing the Red-Sea, at a Time,
when the Author had neither Leisure, nor Possibility, to invent a
new Art: It must therefore be undeniable, either that the Hebrews
brought Poetry out of Egypt, or that Moses receiv'd it from God,
by immediate Inspiration. This last, being what a Poet should be
fondest of believing, I wou'd fain suppose it probable, that God,
who was pleas'd to instruct Moses with what Ceremony he wou'd be
worship'd, taught him also a Mode of Thinking, and expressing
Thought, unprophan'd by vulgar Use, and peculiar to that Worship.
God then taught Poetry first to the Hebrews, and the Hebrews to
Mankind in general.
But, however this may have been, there is, apparently, a divine
Spirit, glowing forcibly in the Hebrew Poetry, a kind of terrible
Simplicity; a magnificent Plainness! which is commonly lost, in
Paraphrase, by our mistaken Endeavours after heightening the
Sentiments, by a figurative Expression; This is very ill Judg'd:
The little Ornaments of Rhetorick might serve, fortunately
enough, to swell out the Leanness of some modern Compositions;
but to shadow over the Lustre of a divine Hebrew Thought, by an
Affectation of enliv'ning it, is to paint upon a Diamond, and
call it an Ornament.
It is a surprizing Reflection, that these noble Hebrew Poets
shou'd have written with such admirable Vigour three Thousand
Years ago; and that, instead of improving, we should affect to
despise them; as if, to write smoothly, and without the Spirit of
Imagery, were the true Art of Poetry, because the only Art we
practise. It puts me in Mind of the famous Roman Lady, who
suppos'd, that Men had, naturally, stinking Breaths, because she
had been us'd to it, in her Husband.
The most obvious Defect in our Poetry, and I think the greatest
it is liable to, is, that we study Form, and neglect Matter. We
are often very flowing, and under a full Sail of Words, while we
leave our Sense fast aground, as too weighty to float on
Frothiness; We run on, upon false Scents, like a Spaniel, that
starts away at Random after a Stone, which is kept back in the
Hand, though It seem'd to fly before him. To speak with Freedom
on this Subject, is a Task of more Danger than Honour; for few
Minds have real Greatness enough to consider a Detection of their
Errors, as a Warning to their Conduct, and an Advantage to their
Fame; But no discerning Judgment will consider it as ill Nature,
in one Writer, to mark the Faults of another. A general Practice
of that Kind wou'd be the highest Service to poetry. No Disease
can be cur'd, till its Nature is examin'd; and the first likely
Step towards correcting our Errors, is resolving to learn
impartially, that we have Errors to be corrected.
I will, therefore, with much Freedom, but no manner of Malice,
remark an Instance or two, from no mean Writers, to prove, that
our Poetry has been degenerating apace into mere Sound, or
Harmony; nor ought This to be consider'd as an invidious Attempt,
since whatever Pains we take, about polishing our Numbers, where
we raise not our Meaning, are as impertinently bestowed, as the
Labour wou'd be, of setting a broken Leg after the Soul has left
the Body. The Gunners have a Custom, when a Ball is too little
for the Bore of their Canon, to wrap Towe about it, till it
fills the Mouth of the Piece; after which, it is discharg'd, with
a Thunder, proportionable to the Size of the Gun; But its
Execution at the Mark, will immediately discover, that the Noise
of the Discharge was a great deal too big for the Diameter of the
Bullet. It is just the same thing with an unsinewy Imagination,
sent abroad in sounding Numbers; The Loftiness of the Expression
will astonish shallow Readers into a temporary Admiration, and
support it, for a while; but the Bounce, however loud, goes no
farther than the Ear; The Heart remains unreach'd by the Languor
of the Sentiment.
Poetry, the most elevated Exertion of human Wit, is no more than
a weak and contemptible Amusement, wanting Energy of Thought, or
Propriety of Expression. Yet we may run into Error, by an
injudicious Affectation of attaining Perfection, as Men, who are
gazing upward, when they shou'd be looking to their Footsteps,
stumble frequently against Posts, while they have the Sun in
Contemplation.
In attempting, for Example, to modernize so lofty an Ode as the
104th Psalm, the Choice of Metaphors shou'd, methinks, have been
considered, as one of the most remarkable Difficulties. There
seems to have been a Necessity, that they shou'd be noble, as
well as natural; and yet, if too much rais'd, they wou'd endanger
an Extinction of the Charms, which they were design'd to
illustrate. That powerful Imagination of 'the Sea, climbing over
the Mountains Tops, and rushing back, upon the Plains, at the
Voice of God's Thunder,' ought certainly to have been express'd
with as much Plainness as possible: And, to demonstrate how ill
the contrary Measure has succeeded, one need only observe how it
looks in Mr. Trapp's Metaphorical Refinement.
"The Ebbing Deluge did its Troops recal,
Drew off its Forces, and disclos'd the Ball,
They, at th' Eternal's Signal march'd away."
Who does not discern, in this Place, what an Injury is done to
the original Image, by the military Metaphor? Recalling the
'Troops' of a Deluge, 'Drawing off its Forces'; and its 'Marching
away, at a Signal,' carry not only a visible Impropriety of
Thought, but are infinitely below the Majesty of That God, who is
so dreadfully represented thundering his Commands to the Ocean;
They are directly the Reverse of that terrible Confusion, and
overwhelming Uproar of Motion, which the Sea, in the Original, is
suppos'd to fall into. The March of an Army is pleasing, orderly,
slow; The Inundation of a Sea, from the Tops of the Mountains,
frightful, wild and tumultuous; Every Justness and Grace of the
original Conception is destroyed by the Metaphor.
In the same Psalm, the Hebrew Poet describing God, says, '....He
maketh the Clouds his Chariots, and walketh on the Wings of the
Wind.' Making the 'Clouds his Chariots,' is a strong and lively
Thought; But That of 'walking on the Wings of the Wind,' is a
Sublimity, that frightens, astonishes, and ravishes the Mind of a
Reader, who conceives it, as he shou'd do. The Judgement of the
Poet in this Place, is discernable in three different
Particulars; The Thought is in itself highly noble, and elevated;
To move at all upon the Wind, carries with it an Image of much
Majesty and Terror; But this natural Grandeur he first encreas'd
by the Word 'Wings,' which represents the Motion, as not only on
the Winds, but on the Winds in their utmost Violence, and
Rapidity of Agitation. But then at last, comes that finishing
Sublimity, which attends the Word 'walks'! The Poet is not
satisfied to represent God, as riding on the Winds; nor even as
riding on them in a Tempest; He therefore tells us, that He walks
on their Wings; that so our Idea might be heighten'd to the
utmost, by reflecting on this calm, and easy Motion of the Deity,
upon a Violence, so rapid, so furious, and ungovernable, to our
human Conception. Yet as nothing can be more sublime, so nothing
can be more simple, and plain, than this noble Imagination. But
Mr. Trapp, not contented to express, attempts unhappily to adorn
this inimitable Beauty, in the following Manner.
"Who, borne in Triumph o'er the Heavenly Plains,
Rides on the Clouds, and holds a Storm in Reins,
Flies on the Wings of the sonorous Wind, &c."
Here his imperfect, and diminishing Metaphor, of the 'Rains,' has
quite ruin'd the Image; What rational, much less noble Idea, can
any Man conceive of a Wind in a Bridle? The unlucky Word 'Plains'
too, is a downright Contradiction to the Meaning of the Passage.
What wider Difference in Nature, than between driving a Chariot
over a Plain, and moving enthron'd, amidst That rolling, and
terrible Perplexity of Motions, which we figure to our
Imagination, from a 'Chariot of Clouds'? But the mistaken
Embellishment of the Word 'flies,' in the last Verse, is an Error
almost unpardonable; Instead of improving the Conception, it has
made it trifling, and contemptible, and utterly destroy'd the
very Soul of its Energy! 'flies' on the Wind! What an Image is
That, to express the Majesty of God? To 'walk' on the Wind is
astonishing, and horrible; But to 'fly' on the Wind, is the
Employment of a Bat, of an Owl, of a Feather! Mr. Trapp is, I
believe, a Gentleman of so much Candour, and so true a Friend to
the Interest of the Art he professes, that there will be no
Occasion to ask his pardon, for dragging a Criminal Metaphor, or
two, out of the Immunity of his Protection.
Mr. Philips has lately been told in Print, by one of our best
Criticks, that he has excell'd all the Ancients, in his Pastoral
Writings; He will, therefore, be apt to wonder, that I take the
Liberty to say, in downright Respect to Truth, and the Justice
due to Poetry, that I have not only seen modern pastorals, much
better than His, but that his appear, to me, neither natural,
nor equal. One might extend this Remark to the very Names of his
Shepherds; Lobbin, Hobbinol, and Cuddy are nothing of a Piece,
with Lanquet, Mico, and Argol; nor do his Personages agree
better with themselves, than their Names with one another. Mico,
for Example, at the first Sight we have of him, is a very polite
Speaker, and as metaphorical as Mr. Trapp.
"This Place may seem for Shepherds Leisure made,
So lovingly these Elms unite their Shade!
Th'ambitious Woodbine! how it climbs, to breathe
Its balmy Sweets around, on all beneath!"