Edward Young (1683–1765)

A LETTER TO THE AUTHOR OF Sir CHARLES GRANDISON.

Dear Sir,

¶1 §1 WE confess the Follies of Youth without a Blush; not so, those of Age.

§2 However, keep me a little in countenance by considering, that Age wants

Amusements more, tho’ {{Page 2}}it can justify them less, than the preceding

periods of life. §3 How you may relish the Pastime here sent you, I know

not. §4 It is miscellaneous in its Nature, somewhat licentious in its

Conduct; and, perhaps, not over important in its End. §5 However, I have

endeavoured to make some amends, by digressing into subjects more important,

and more suitable to my season of life. §6 A serious Thought standing single

among many of a lighter nature, will sometimes strike the careless Wanderer

after Amusement only, with useful Awe: As monumental Marbles scattered in a

wide Pleasure-Garden (and such there are) will call to Recollection those

who would never have sought it in a Churchyard-walk of mournful Yews. {{Page

3}}

¶2 §7 To One such Monument I may conduct you, in which is a hidden Lustre,

like the sepulchral Lamps of old; but not like them will This be

extinguished, but shine the brighter for being produced, after so long

Concealment, into open Day.

¶3 §8 You remember that your worthy Patron, and our common Friend, put some

Questions on the Serious Drama, at the same time when he desired our

Sentiments on Original, and on Moral Composition. §9 Tho’ I despair of

breaking thro’ the frozen Obstructions of Age, and Care’s incumbent Cloud,

into that Flow of thought, and Brightness of expression, which such polite

Subjects require; yet will I hazard some Conjectures on them. {{Page 4}}

¶4 §10 I begin with Original Composition; but, first, a few Thoughts on

Composition in general. §11 Some are of Opinion, that its Growth, at

present, is too luxuriant; and that the Press is overcharged. §12

Overcharged, I think, it could never be, if none were admitted, but such as

brought their Imprimatur from sound Understanding, and the Public Good. Wit,

indeed, however brilliant, should not be permitted to gaze self-enamour’d on

its useless Charms, in that Fountain of Fame (if so I may call the Press, )

if Beauty is all that it has to boast; but, like the first Brutus, it should

sacrifice its most darling Offspring to the sacred interests of Virtue, and

real Service of mankind.

¶5 §13 This Restriction allowed, the more Composition the better. §14 To

{{Page 5}} Men of Letters, and Leisure, it is not only a noble Amusement,

but a sweet Refuge; it improves their Parts, and promotes their Peace: It

opens a back-door out of the Bustle of this busy, and idle world, into a

delicious Garden of Moral and Intellectual fruits and flowers; the Key of

which is denied to the rest of mankind. §15 When stung with idle Anxieties,

or teazed with fruitless Impertinence, or yawning over insipid Diversions,

then we perceive the Blessing of a letter’d recess. §16 With what a Gust do

we retire to our disinterested, and immortal Friends in our Closet, and find

our minds, when applied to some favourite Theme, as naturally, and as easily

quieted, and refreshed, as a peevish Child (and peevish Children are we all

till we fall asleep) when laid to {{Page 6}}the breast? §17 Our Happiness no

longer lives on Charity; nor bids fair for a fall, by leaning on that most

precarious, and thorny Pillow, another’s Pleasure, for our repose. §18 How

independent of the world is he, who can daily find new Acquaintance, that at

once entertain, and improve him, in the little World, the minute but

fruitful Creation, of his own mind?

¶6 §19 These advantages Composition affords us, whether we write ourselves,

or in more humble amusement peruse the Works of others. §20 While we bustle

thro’ the thronged walks of public Life, it gives us a respite, at least,

from Care; a pleasing Pause of refreshing Recollection. §21 If the Country

is our Choice, or Fate, there it rescues us from Sloth and {{Page

7}}Sensuality, which, like obscene vermin, are apt gradually to creep

unperceived into the delightful bowers of our retirement, and to poison all

its sweets. §22 Conscious guilt robs the Rose of its scent, the Lilly of its

lustre; and makes an Eden a deflowered, and dismal scene.

¶7 §23 Moreover, if we consider life’s endless Evils, what can be more

prudent, than to provide for consolation under them? §24 A consolation under

them the wisest of men have found in the pleasures of the Pen. §25 Witness,

among many more, Thucydides, Xenophon, Tully, Ovid, Seneca, Pliny the

younger, who says, In uxoris infirmitate, |&| amicorum periculo, aut morte

turbatus, ad studia, unicum doloris levamentum, confugio. §26 And why not

add to these {{Page 8}} their modern Equals, Rawleigh, Milton, Clarendon,

under the same shield, unwounded by misfortune, and nobly smiling in

distress?

¶8 §27 Composition was a Cordial to These under the Frowns of Fortune; but

Evils there are, which her Smiles cannot prevent, or cure. §28 Among these

are the Languors of old Age. §29 If those are held honourable, who in a hand

benumbed by Time have grasped the just sword in defence of their Country;

shall they be less esteemed, whose unsteady Pen vibrates to the last in the

cause of Religion, of Virtue, of Learning? §30 Both These are happy in This,

that by fixing their attention on objects most important, they escape

numberless little Anxieties, and that Tedium vitæ which hangs often so

{{Page 9}}heavy on its evening hours. §31 May not This insinuate some

Apology for my spilling Ink, and spoiling Paper, so late in Life?

¶9 §32 But there are, who write with vigor, and success, to the world’s

Delight, and their own Renown. §33 These are the glorious fruits where

Genius prevails. §34 The mind of a man of Genius is a fertile and pleasant

field, pleasant as Elysium, and fertile as Tempe; it enjoys a perpetual

Spring. §35 Of that Spring, Originals are the fairest Flowers: Imitations

are of quicker growth, but fainter bloom. §36 Imitations are of two kinds;

one of Nature, one of Authors: The first we call Originals, and confine the

term Imitation to the second. §37 I shall not enter into the curious enquiry

of what is, or {{Page 10}}is not, strictly speaking, Original, content with

what all must allow, that some Compositions are more so than others; and the

more they are so, I say, the better. §38 Originals are, and ought to be,

great Favourites, for they are great Benefactors; they extend the Republic

of Letters, and add a new province to its dominion: Imitators only give us a

sort of Duplicates of what we had, possibly much better, before; increasing

the mere Drug of books, while all that makes them valuable, Knowledge and

Genius, are at a stand. §39 The pen of an Original Writer, like Armida’s

wand, out of a barren waste calls a blooming spring: Out of that blooming

spring an Imitator is a transplanter of Laurels, which sometimes die on

removal, always languish in a foreign soil.

¶10 §40 But suppose an Imitator to be most excellent (and such there are),

yet still he but nobly builds on another’s foundation; his Debt is, at

least, equal to his Glory; which therefore, on the ballance, cannot be very

great. §41 On the contrary, an Original, tho’ but indifferent (its

Originality being set aside,), yet has something to boast; it is something

to say with him in Horace,

          Meo sum Pauper in ære;

and to share ambition with no less than Cæsar, who declared he had rather be

the First in a Village, than the Second at Rome.

¶11 §42 Still farther: An Imitator shares his crown, if he has one, with the

chosen Object of his Imitation; an Original enjoys an undivided ap-{{Page

12}}plause. §43 An Original may be said to be of a vegetable nature; it

rises spontaneously from the vital root of Genius; it grows, it is not made:

Imitations are often a sort of Manufacture wrought up by those Mechanics,

Art, and Labour, out of pre-existent materials not their own.

¶12 §44 Again: We read Imitation with somewhat of his languor, who listens

to a twice-told tale: Our spirits rouze at an Original; that is a perfect

stranger, and all throng to learn what news from a foreign land: And tho’ it

comes, like an Indian Prince, adorned with feathers only, having little of

weight; yet of our attention it will rob the more Solid, if not equally New:

Thus every Telescope is lifted at a new-discovered star; it makes a hundred

{{Page 13}}Astronomers in a moment, and denies equal notice to the sun. §45

But if an Original, by being as excellent, as new, adds admiration to

surprize, then are we at the Writer’s mercy; on the strong wing of his

Imagination, we are snatched from Britain to Italy, from Climate to Climate,

from Pleasure to Pleasure; we have no Home, no Thought, of our own; till the

Magician drops his Pen: And then falling down into ourselves, we awake to

flat Realities, lamenting the change, like the Beggar who dreamt himself a

Prince.

¶13 §46 It is with Thoughts, as it is with Words; and with both, as with

Men; they may grow old, and die. §47 Words tarnished, by passing thro’ the

mouths of the Vulgar, are laid {{Page 14}}aside as inelegant, and obsolete.

§48 So Thoughts, when become too common, should lose their Currency; and we

should send new metal to the Mint, that is, new meaning to the Press. §49

The Division of tongues at Babel did not more effectually debar men from

making themselves a name (as the Scripture speaks, ) than the too great

Concurrence, or Union of tongues will do for ever. §50 We may as well grow

good by another’s Virtue, or fat by another’s Food, as famous by another’s

Thought. §51 The world will pay its Debt of Praise but once; and instead of

applauding, explode a second Demand, as a Cheat.

¶14 §52 If it is said, that most of the Latin Classics, and all the Greek,

except, perhaps, Homer, Pindar, {{Page 15}} and Anacreon, are in the number

of Imitators, yet receive our highest applause; our answer is, That They,

tho’ not real, are accidental Originals; the works they imitated, few

excepted, are lost: They, on their Father’s Decease, enter, as lawful Heirs,

on their Estates in Fame: The Fathers of our Copyists are still in

possession; and secured in it, in spite of Goths, and Flames, by the

perpetuating power of the Press. §53 Very late must a modern Imitator’s fame

arrive, if it waits for their Decease.

¶15 §54 An Original enters early upon Reputation: Fame, fond of new Glories,

sounds her Trumpet in Triumph at its birth; and yet how few are awaken’d by

it into the noble ambition of like attempts? §55 {{Page 16}}Ambition is

sometimes no Vice in life; it is always a Virtue in Composition. §56 High in

the towering Alps is the Fountain of the Po; high in Fame, and in Antiquity,

is the Fountain of an Imitator’s Undertaking; but the River, and the

Imitation, humbly creep along the Vale. §57 So few are our Originals, that,

if all other books were to be burnt, the letter’d World would resemble some

Metropolis in flames, where a few incombustible buildings, a Fortress,

Temple, or Tower, lift their Heads, in melancholy Grandeur, amid the mighty

ruin. §58 Compared with this Conflagration, old Omar lighted up but a small

Bonfire, when he heated the baths of the Barbarians, for eight months

together, with the famed Alexandrian Library’s inestimable spoils, {{Page

17}}that no prophane book might obstruct the triumphant progress of his holy

Alcoran round the Globe.

¶16 §59 But why are Originals so few? not because the Writer’s harvest is

over, the great Reapers of Antiquity having left nothing to be gleaned after

them; nor because the human mind’s teeming time is past, or because it is

incapable of putting forth unprecedented births; but because Illustrious

Examples engross, prejudice, and intimidate. They engross our attention, and

so prevent a due inspection of ourselves; they prejudice our Judgment in

favour of their abilities, and so lessen the sense of our own; and they

intimidate us with the splendor of their Renown, and thus under Diffidence

bury our strength. §60 Nature’s Im-{{Page 18}} possibilities, and those of

Diffidence, lie wide asunder.

¶17 §61 Let it not be suspected, that I would weakly insinuate any thing in

favour of the Moderns, as compared with antient Authors; no, I am lamenting

their great Inferiority. §62 But I think it is no necessary Inferiority;

that it is not from divine Destination, but from some cause far beneath the

moon: I think that human Souls, thro’ all periods, are equal; that due care,

and exertion, would set us nearer our immortal Predecessors than we are at

present; and he who questions and confutes this, will show abilities not a

little tending toward a proof of that Equality, which he denies.

¶18 §63 After all, the first Antients had {{Page 19}}no Merit in being

Originals: They could not be Imitators. §64 Modern Writers have a Choice to

make; and therefore have a Merit in their power. §65 They may soar in the

Regions of Liberty, or move in the soft Fetters of easy Imitation; and

Imitation has as many plausible Reasons to urge, as Pleasure had to offer to

Hercules. §66 Hercules made the Choice of an Hero, and so became immortal.

¶19 §67 Yet let not Assertors of Classic Excellence imagine, that I deny the

Tribute it so well deserves. §68 He that admires not antient Authors,

betrays a secret he would conceal, and tells the world, that he does not

understand them. §69 Let us be as far from neglecting, as from copying,

their admirable Compositions; Sa-{{Page 20}}cred be their Rights, and

inviolable their Fame. §70 Let our Understandings feed on theirs; they

afford the noblest nourishment; But let them nourish, not annihilate, our

own. §71 When we read, let our Imagination kindle at their Charms; when we

write, let our Judgment shut them out of our Thoughts; treat even Homer

himself, as his royal Admirer was treated by the Cynic; bid him stand aside,

nor shade our Composition from the beams of our own Genius; for nothing

Original can rise, nothing Immortal can ripen, in any other Sun.

¶20 §72 Must we then, you say, not imitate antient Authors? §73 Imitate

them, by all means; but imitate aright. §74 He that imitates the divine

lliad, does not imitate Homer; but he {{Page 21}}who takes the same method,

which Homer took, for arriving at a capacity of accomplishing a work so

great. §75 Tread in his steps to the sole Fountain of Immortality; drink

where he drank, at the true Helicon, that is, at the breast of Nature:

Imitate; but imitate not the Composition, but the Man. §76 For may not this

Paradox pass into a Maxim? |viz.| "The less we copy the renowned Antients,

we shall resemble them the more."

¶21 §77 But possibly you may reply, that you must either imitate Homer, or

depart from Nature. §78 Not so: For suppose You was to change place, in

time, with Homer; then, if you write naturally, you might as well charge

Homer with an imitation of You. §79 Can you be said to imitate {{Page 22}}

Homer for writing so, as you would have written, if Homer had never been?

§80 As far as a regard to Nature, and sound Sense, will permit a Departure

from your great Predecessors; so far, ambitiously, depart from them; the

farther from them in Similitude, the nearer are you to them in Excellence;

you rise by it into an Original ; become a noble Collateral, not an humble

Descendant from them. §81 Let us build our Compositions with the Spirit, and

in the Taste, of the Antients; but not with their Materials: Thus will they

resemble the structures of Pericles at Athens, which Plutarch commends for

having had an air of Antiquity as soon as they were built. §82 All Eminence,

and Distinction, lies out of the beaten road; Excursion, and Deviation, are

neces-{{Page 23}}sary to find it; and the more remote your Path from the

Highway, the more reputable; if, like poor Gulliver (of whom anon,) you fall

not into a Ditch, in your way to Glory.

¶22 §83 What glory to come near, what glory to reach, what glory

(presumptuous thought!) to surpass, our Predecessors? §84 And is that then

in Nature absolutely Impossible? §85 Or is it not, rather, contrary to

Nature to fail in it? §86 Nature herself sets the Ladder, all wanting is our

ambition to climb. §87 For by the bounty of Nature we are as strong as our

Predecessors; and by the favour of Time (which is but another Round in

Nature’s Scale,) we stand on higher ground. §88 As to the First, were they

more than men? §89 Or are we less? §90 Are not our minds cast in the same

{{Page 24}}mould with those before the Flood? §91 The flood affected Matter;

Mind escaped. §92 As to the Second; tho’ we are Moderns, the World is an

Antient; more antient far, than when they filled it with their Fame, whom we

most admire. §93 Have we not their Beauties, as stars, to guide; their

Defects, as rocks, to be shunn’d; the Judgment of Ages on both, as a chart

to conduct, and a sure helm to steer us in our passage to greater Perfection

than Theirs? §94 And shall we be stopt in our rival pretensions to Fame by

this just Reproof?

          Stat contra, dicitque tibi tua Pagina, Fur es. MART.

It is by a sort of noble Contagion, from a general familiarity with their

Writings, and not by any particular sordid Theft, that we can be the {{Page

25}}better for those who went before us. §95 Hope we, from Plagiarism, any

Dominion in Literature; as that of Rome arose from a nest of Thieves?

¶23 §96 Rome was a powerful Ally to many States; antient Authors are our

powerful Allies; but we must take heed, that they do not succour, till they

enslave, after the manner of Rome. Too formidable an Idea of their

Superiority, like a Spectre, would fright us out of a proper use of our

Wits; and dwarf our Understanding, by making a Giant of theirs. §97 Too

great Awe for them lays Genius under restraint, and denies it that free

scope, that full elbow-room, which is requisite for striking its most

masterly strokes. §98 Genius is a Master-workman, Learning is but an

Instrument; and an Instrument, tho’ {{Page 26}}most valuable, yet not always

indispensable. §99 Heaven will not admit of a Partner in the accomplishment

of some favourite Spirits; but rejecting all human means, assumes the whole

glory to itself. §100 Have not some, tho’ not famed for Erudition, so

written, as almost to persuade us, that they shone brighter, and soared

higher, for escaping the boasted aid of that proud Ally?

¶24 §101 Nor is it strange; for what, for the most part, mean we by Genius,

but the Power of accomplishing great things without the means generally

reputed necessary to that end? §102 A Genius differs from a good

Understanding, as a Magician from a good Architect; That raises his

structure by means invisible; This by the skilful use of common tools. §103

{{Page 27}}Hence Genius has ever been supposed to partake of something

Divine. §104 Nemo unquam vir magnus fuit, sine aliquo afflatu Divino.

¶25 §105 Learning, destitute of this superior Aid, is fond, and proud, of

what has cost it much pains; is a great Lover of Rules, and Boaster of famed

Examples: As Beauties less perfect, who owe half their Charms to cautious

Art, she inveighs against natural unstudied Graces, and small harmless

Indecorums, and sets rigid Bounds to that Liberty, to which Genius often

owes its supreme Glory; but the No-Genius its frequent Ruin. §106 For

unprescribed Beauties, and unexampled Excellence, which are Characteristics

of Genius, lie without the Pale of Learning ’s Authorities, and {{Page

28}}Laws; which Pale, Genius must leap to come at them: But by that Leap, if

Genius is wanting, we break our Necks; we lose that little credit, which

possibly we might have enjoyed before. §107 For Rules, like Crutches, are a

needful Aid to the Lame, tho’ an Impediment to the Strong. §108 A Homer

casts them away; and, like his Achilles,

          Jura negat sibi nata, nihil non arrogat,

by native force of mind. §109 There is something in Poetry beyond

Prose-reason; there are Mysteries in it not to be explained, but admired;

which render mere Prose-men Infidels to their Divinity. §110 And here pardon

a second Paradox; viz. "Genius often then deserves most to be praised, when

it is most sure to be condemned; that is, when its Excel-{{Page 29}} lence,

from mounting high, to weak eyes is quite out of sight."

¶26 §111 If I might speak farther of Learning, and Genius, I would compare

Genius to Virtue, and Learning to Riches. §112 As Riches are most wanted

where there is least Virtue; so Learning where there is least Genius. §113

As Virtue without much Riches can give Happiness, so Genius without much

Learning can give Renown. §114 As it is said in Terence, Pecuniam negligere

interdum maximum est Lucrum; so to neglect of Learning, Genius sometimes

owes its greater glory. §115 Genius, therefore, leaves but the second place,

among men of letters, to the Learned. §116 It is their Merit, and Ambition,

to fling light on the works of Genius, and point out its Charms. §117 We

most justly {{Page 30}}reverence their informing Radius for that favour; but

we must much more admire the radiant Stars pointed out by them.

¶27 §118 A Star of the first magnitude among the Moderns was Shakespeare;

among the Antients, Pindar; who (as Vossius tells us) boasted of his

No-learning, calling himself the Eagle, for his Flight above it. §119 And

such Genii as these may, indeed, have much reliance on their own native

powers. §120 For Genius may be compared to the Body’s natural Strength;

Learning to the superinduced Accoutrements of Arms: if the First is equal to

the proposed exploit, the Latter rather encumbers, than assists; rather

retards, than promotes, the Victory. §121 Sacer nobis inest Deus, says

Seneca. With {{Page 31}}regard to the Moral world, Conscience, with regard

to the Intellectual, Genius, is that God within. §122 Genius can set us

right in Composition, without the Rules of the Learned; as Conscience sets

us right in Life, without the Laws of the Land: This, singly, can make us

Good, as Men; That, singly, as Writers, can, sometimes, make us Great.

¶28 §123 I say, sometimes, because there is a Genius, which stands in need

of Learning to make it shine. §124 Of Genius there are two species, an

Earlier, and a Later; or call them Infantine, and Adult. §125 An Adult

Genius comes out of Nature’s hand, as Pallas out of Jove’s head, at full

growth, and mature: Shakespeare’s Genius was of this kind: On the contrary,

Swift stumbled at the threshold, and set {{Page 32}}out for Distinction on

feeble knees: His was an Infantine Genius; a Genius, which, like other

Infants, must be nursed, and educated, or it will come to nought: Learning

is its Nurse, and Tutor; but this Nurse may overlay with an indigested Load,

which smothers common sense; and this Tutor may mislead, with pedantic

Prejudice, which vitiates the best understanding: As too great admirers of

the Fathers of the Church have sometimes set up their Authority against the

true Sense of Scripture; so too great admirers of the Classical Fathers have

sometimes set up their Authority, or Example, against Reason.

          Neve minor, neu sit quinto productior actu Fabula.

So says Horace, so says antient Ex- {{Page 33}}ample. §126 But Reason has

not subscribed. §127 I know but one book that can justify our implicit

acquiescence in it.

¶29 §128 But superstition set aside, the Classicks are for ever our

rightful, and revered Masters in Composition; and our understandings bow

before them: But when? §129 When a master is wanted; which, sometimes, (as I

have shown) is not the case. §130 Some are Pupils of nature only, nor go

farther to school: From such we reap often a double advantage; they not only

rival the reputation of the great antient authors, but also reduce the

number of mean ones among the moderns. §131 For when they enter on subjects

which have been in former hands, such is their Superiority, that, like a

tenth Wave, they overwhelm, {{Page 34}}and bury in oblivion all that went

before: And thus not only enrich and adorn, but remove a load, and lessen

the labour, of the letter’d world.

¶30 §132 "But, you say, since Originals can arise from Genius only, and

since Genius is so very rare, it is scarce worth while to labour a point so

much, from which we can reasonably expect so little." To show that Genius is

not so very rare as you imagine, I shall point out strong instances of it,

in a far distant quarter from that mentioned above. §133 The minds of the

Schoolmen were almost as much cloistered as their bodies; they had but

little learning, and few books; yet may the most learned be struck with some

astonishment at their so singu-{{Page 35}}lar natural sagacity, and most

exquisite edge of thought. §134 Who would expect to find Pindar and Scotus,

Shakespear and Aquinas, of the same Party? §135 Both equally shew an

original, unindebted, energy; the Vigor igneus, and Coelestis origo burns

in both; and leaves us in doubt if Genius is more evident in the sublime

flights and beauteous flowers of poetry, or in the profound penetrations,

and marvelously keen and minute distinctions, called the Thorns of the

schools. §136 There might have been more able Consuls called from the

plough, than ever arrived at that honour: Many a Genius, probably, there has

been, which could neither write, nor read. §137 So that Genius, that supreme

Lustre of literature, is less rare than you conceive. {{Page 36}}

¶31 §138 By the praise of Genius we detract not from Learning; we detract

not from the value of Gold, by saying that Diamond has greater still. §139

He who disregards Learning, shows that he wants its aid; and he that

overvalues it, shows that its aid has done him harm. §140 Overvalued indeed

it cannot be, if Genius, as to Composition, is valued more. §141 Learning we

thank, Genius we revere; That gives us pleasure, This gives us rapture; That

informs, This inspires; and is itself inspired; for Genius is from Heaven,

Learning from man: This sets us above the low, and illiterate; That, above

the learned, and polite. §142 Learning is borrowed knowlege; Genius is

knowlege innate, and quite our own. §143 Therefore, as Bacon observes, it

may take a nobler name, and be called Wis-{{Page 37}}dom; in which sense of

wisdom, some are born wise.

¶32 §144 But here a caution is necessary against the most fatal of errors in

those Automaths, those self-taught Philosophers of our age, who set up

Genius, and often, mere fancied Genius, not only above human Learning, but

divine Truth. §145 I have called Genius wisdom; but let it be remembered,

that in the most renowned ages of the most refined Heathen wisdom (and

theirs is not Christian) "the world by wisdom knew not God, and it pleased

God by the foolishness of preaching to save those that believed." In the

Fairyland of Fancy, Genius may wander wild; there it has a creative power,

and may reign arbitrarily over its own empire of Chimeras. §146 The wide

{{Page 38}}field of Nature also lies open before it, where it may range

unconfined, make what discoveries it can, and sport with its infinite

objects uncontrouled, as far as visible nature extends, painting them as

wantonly as it will: But what Painter of the most unbounded and exalted

Genius can give us the true portrait of a Seraph? §147 He can give us only

what by his own, or others eyes, has been seen; though that indeed

infinitely compounded, raised, burlesqued, dishonoured, or adorned: In like

manner, who can give us divine Truth unrevealed? §148 Much less should any

presume to set aside divine Truth when revealed, as incongruous to their own

Sagacities. §149 — Is this too serious for my subject? §150 I shall be more

so before I close. {{Page 39}}

¶33 §151 Having put in a Caveat against the most fatal of errors, from the

too great indulgence of Genius, return we now to that too great suppression

of it, which is detrimental to Composition; and endeavour to rescue the

writer, as well as the man. §152 I have said, that some are born Wise; but

they, like those that are born Rich, by neglecting the cultivation and

produce of their own Possessions, and by running in debt, may be beggared at

last; and lose their reputations, as younger brothers estates, not by being

born with less abilities than the rich heir, but at too late an hour.

¶34 §153 Many a great man has been lost to himself, and the Publick, purely

because great ones were born before him. §154 Hermias in his collections on

{{Page 40}}Homer’s blindness, says, that Homer requesting the Gods to grant

him a sight of Achilles, that Hero rose, but in armour so bright, that it

struck Homer blind with the blaze. §155 Let not the blaze of even Homer’s

Muse darken us to the discernment of our own Powers; which may possibly set

us above the rank of Imitators; who, though most excellent, and even

immortal (as some of them are) yet are still but Dii minorum gentium, nor

can expect the largest share of incense, the greatest profusion of praise,

on their secondary altars.

¶35 §156 But farther still: a spirit of Imitation hath many ill effects; I

shall confine myself to three. §157 First, It deprives the liberal and

politer arts of an advantage which the mechanic {{Page 41}}enjoy: In these,

men are ever endeavouring to go beyond their Predecessors; in the former, to

follow them. §158 And since copies surpass not their Originals, as streams

rise not higher than their spring, rarely so high; hence, while arts

Mechanic are in perpetual progress, and increase, the Liberal are in

retrogradation, and decay. §159 These resemble Pyramids, are broad at

bottom, but lessen exceedingly as they rise; Those resemble Rivers which,

from a small fountain-head, are spreading ever wider, and wider, as they

run. §160 Hence it [[[is]]] is evident, that different portions of

understanding are not (as some imagine) allotted to different periods of

time; for we see, in the same period, understanding rising in one set of

artists, and declining in another. §161 Therefore Nature stands {{Page

42}}absolved, and the inferiority of our Composition must be charged on

ourselves.

¶36 §162 Nay, so far are we from complying with a necessity, which Nature

lays us under, that, Secondly, by a spirit of Imitation we counteract

Nature, and thwart her design. §163 She brings us into the world all

Originals: No two faces, no two minds, are just alike; but all bear Nature’s

evident mark of Separation on them. §164 Born Originals, how comes it to

pass that we die Copies? That medling Ape Imitation, as soon as we come to

years of Indiscretion (so let me speak), snatches the Pen, and blots out

nature’s mark of Separation, cancels her kind intention, destroys all mental

Individuality; the letter’d world no longer {{Page 43}}consists of

Singulars, it is a Medly, a Mass; and a hundred books, at bottom, are but

One. §165 Why are Monkies such masters of mimickry? §166 Why receive they

such a talent at imitation? §167 Is it not as the Spartan slaves received a

licence for ebriety; that their Betters might be ashamed of it?

¶37 §168 The Third fault to be found with a spirit of Imitation is, that

with great incongruity it makes us Poor, and Proud: makes us think little,

and write much; gives us huge folios, which are little better than more

reputable cushions to promote our repose. §169 Have not some sevenfold

volumes put us in mind of Ovid ’s sevenfold channels of the Nile at the

conflagration?

          Ostia septem Pulverulenta vacant septem sine flumine Valles.

{{Page 44}}Such leaden labours are like Lycurgus’s iron money, which was so

much less in value, than in bulk, that it required Barns for Strong-boxes,

and a yoke of oxen to draw five hundred pounds.

¶38 §170 But notwithstanding these disadvantages of Imitation, imitation

must be the lot, (and often an honourable lot it is) of most writers. §171

If there is a famine of Invention in the land, like Joseph’s brethren, we

must travel far for food; we must visit the remote, and rich, Antients; but

an inventive Genius may safely stay at home; that, like the Widow’s cruse,

is divinely replenished from within; and affords us a miraculous delight.

§172 Whether our own Genius be such, or not, we diligently should inquire;

that we may not go a begging {{Page 45}}with Gold in our purse. §173 For

there is a Mine in man, which must be deeply dug ere we can conjecture its

contents. §174 Another often sees that in us, which we see not ourselves;

and may there not be that in us which is unseen by both? §175 That there

may, Chance often discovers, either by a luckily chosen Theme, or a mighty

Premium, or an absolute Necessity of exertion, or a noble stroke of

Emulation from another’s Glory; as that on Thucydides from hearing Herodotus

repeat part of his History at the Olympic Games: Had there been no

Herodotus, there might have been no Thucydides, and the world’s admiration

might have begun at Livy for excellence in that province of the pen. §176

Demosthenes had the same stimulation on hearing Callistratus; or Tully might

have been {{Page 46}}the first of consummate renown at the bar.

¶39 §177 Quite clear of the dispute concerning antient and modern Learning,

we speak not of Performance, but Powers. §178 The modern powers are equal to

those before them; modern performance in general is deplorably short. §179

How great are the names just mentioned? §180 Yet who will dare affirm, that

as great may not rise up in some future, or even in the present age? §181

Reasons there are why talents may not appear, none why they may not exist,

as much in one period as another. §182 An Evocation of vegetable fruits

depends on rain, air, and sun; an Evocation of the fruits of Genius no less

depends on Externals. §183 What a marvellous crop bore it in Greece, {{Page

47}}and Rome? And what a marvellous sunshine did it there enjoy? §184 What

encouragement from the nature of their governments, and the spirit of their

people? §185 Virgil and Horace owed their divine talents to Heaven; their

immortal works, to men; thank Mæcenas, and Augustus for them. §186 Had it

not been for these, the genius of those poets had lain buried in their

ashes. §187 Athens expended on her Theatre, Painting, Sculpture, and

Architecture, a tax levied for the support of a war. §188 Cæsar dropt his

papers when Tully spoke; and Philip trembled at the voice of Demosthenes:

And has there shone but one Tully, one Demosthenes, in so long a course of

years? §189 The powerful eloquence of them both in one stream, should never

bear me down into the melan{{Page 48}}choly persuasion, that several have

not been born, though they have not emerged. §190 The sun as much exists in

a cloudy day, as in a clear; it is outward, accidental circumstances that

with regard to Genius either in nation, or age,

          Collectas fugat nubes, solemque reducit. VIRG.

¶40 §191 As great, perhaps, greater than those mentioned (presumptuous as it

may sound) may, possibly, arise; for who hath fathomed the mind of man? §192

Its bounds are as unknown, as those of the creation; since the birth of

which, perhaps, not One has so far exerted, as not to leave his

Possibilities beyond his Attainments, his Powers beyond his Exploits. §193

Forming our judgments, altogether by what has been done, without knowing, or

at all inquiring, what {{Page 49}}possibly might have been done, we

naturally enough fall into too mean an opinion of the human mind. §194 If a

sketch of the divine Iliad before Homer wrote, had been given to mankind, by

some superior being, or otherwise, its execution would, probably, have

appeared beyond the power of man. §195 Now, to surpass it, we think

impossible. §196 As the First of these opinions would evidently have been a

mistake, why may not the Second be so too? §197 Both are founded on the same

bottom; on our ignorance of the possible dimensions of the mind of man.

¶41 §198 Nor are we only ignorant of the dimensions of the human mind in

general, but even of our own. §199 That a Man may be scarce less ignorant of

his own powers, than an Oyster {{Page 50}}of its pearl, or a Rock of its

diamond; that he may possess dormant, unsuspected abilities, till awakened

by loud calls, or stung up by striking emergencies, is evident from the

sudden eruption of some men, out of perfect obscurity, into publick

admiration, on the strong impulse of some animating occasion; not more to

the world’s great surprize, than their own. §2201 Few authors of distinction

but have experienced something of this nature, at the first beamings of

their yet unsuspected Genius on their hitherto dark Composition: The writer

starts at it, as at a lucid Meteor in the night; is much surprized; can

scarce believe it true. §202 During his happy confusion, it may be said to

him, as to Eve at the Lake, {{Page 51}}

          What there thou seest, fair creature is thyself. MILT.

Genius, in this view, is like a dear Friend in our company under disguise;

who, while we are lamenting his absence, drops his mask, striking us, at

once, with equal surprize and joy. §203 This sensation, which I speak of in

a writer, might favour, and so promote, the fable of poetic Inspiration: A

Poet of a strong imagination, and stronger vanity, on feeling it, might

naturally enough realize the world’s mere compliment, and think himself

truly inspired. §204 Which is not improbable; for Enthusiasts of all kinds

do no less.

¶42 §205 Since it is plain that men may be strangers to their own abilities;

and {{Page 52}}by thinking meanly of them without just cause, may possibly

lose a name, perhaps, a name immortal; I would find some means to prevent

these Evils. §206 Whatever promotes Virtue, promotes something more, and

carries its good influence beyond the moral man: To prevent these evils, I

borrow two golden rules from Ethics, which are no less golden in

Composition, than in life. §207 I. Know thyself; 2dly, Reverence thyself. I

design to repay Ethics in a future Letter, by two rules from Rhetoric for

its service.

¶43 §208 1st. Know thyself. §209 Of ourselves it may be said, as Martial

says of a bad neighbour,

          Nil tam prope, proculque nobis.

{{Page 53}} Therefore dive deep into thy bosom; learn the depth, extent,

biass, and full fort of thy mind; contract full intimacy with the Stranger

within thee; excite, and cherish every spark of Intellectual light and heat,

however smothered under former negligence, or scattered through the dull,

dark mass of common thoughts; and collecting them into a body, let thy

Genius rise (if a Genius thou hast) as the sun from Chaos; and if I should

then say, like an Indian, worship it, (though too bold) yet should I say

little more than my second rule enjoins, (viz.) Reverence thyself.

¶44 §210 That is, let not great Examples, or Authorities, browbeat thy

Reason into too great a diffidence of thyself: Thyself so reverence as to

prefer the native growth of thy own {{Page 54}}mind to the richest import

from abroad; such borrowed riches make us poor. §211 The man who thus

reverences himself, will soon find the world’s reverence to follow his own.

§212 His works will stand distinguished; his the sole Property of them;

which Property alone can confer the noble title of an Author, that is, of

one who (to speak accurately) thinks, and composes; while other invaders of

the Press, how voluminous, and learned soever, (with due respect be it

spoken) only read, and write.

¶45 §213 This is the difference between those two Luminaries in Literature,

the well-accomplished Scholar, and the divinely-inspired Enthusiast; the

First is, as the bright morning star; the Second, as the rising sun. §214

The writer who neglects those two rules {{Page 55}}above will never stand

alone; he makes one of a group, and thinks in wretched unanimity with the

throng: Incumbered with the notions of others, and impoverished by their

abundance, he conceives not the least embryo of new thought; opens not the

least vista thro’ the gloom of ordinary writers, into the bright walks of

rare Imagination, and singular Design; while the true Genius is crossing all

publick roads into fresh untrodden ground; he, up to the knees in Antiquity,

is treading the sacred footsteps of great examples, with the blind

veneration of a bigot saluting the papal toe; comfortably hoping full

absolution for the sins of his own understanding, from the powerful charm of

touching his idol’s Infallibility. {{Page 56}}

¶46 §215 Such meanness of mind, such prostration of our own powers, proceeds

from too great admiration of others. §216 Admiration has, generally, a

degree of two very bad ingredients in it; of Ignorance, and of Fear; and

does mischief in Composition, and in Life. §217 Proud as the world is, there

is more superiority in it given, than assumed: And its Grandees of all kinds

owe more of their elevation to the Littleness of others minds, than to the

Greatness of their own. §218 Were not prostrate spirits their voluntary

pedestals, the figure they make among mankind would not stand so high. §219

Imitators and Translators are somewhat of the pedestal-kind, and sometimes

rather raise their Original’s reputation, by showing him to be by them

inimitable, than their own. §220 Homer has {{Page 57}}been translated into

most languages; Ælian tells us, that the Indians, (hopeful tutors!) have

taught him to speak their tongue. §221 What expect we from them? §222 Not

Homer’s Achilles, but something, which, like Patroclus, assumes his name,

and, at its peril, appears in his stead; nor expect we Homer’s Ulysses,

gloriously bursting out of his cloud into royal grandeur, but an Ulysses

under disguise, and a beggar to the last. §223 Such is that inimitable

Father of poetry, and Oracle of all the wise whom Lycurgus transcribed; and

for an annual publick recital of whose works Solon enacted a law; that it is

much to be feared, that his so numerous translations are but as the

publish’d testimonials of so many nations, and ages, that this author so

divine is untranslated still. {{Page 58}}

¶47 §224 But here,

          Cynthius aurem Vellit. — VIRG.

and demands justice for his favourite, and ours. §225 Great things he has

done; but he might have done greater. §226 What a fall is it from Homer ’s

numbers, free as air, lofty, and harmonious as the spheres, into childish

shackles, and tinkling sounds! §227 But, in his fall, he is still great —

          Nor appears Less than archangel ruin’d, and the excess Of glory

          obscur’d. — MILT.

¶48 §228 Had Milton never wrote, Pope had been less to blame: But when in

Milton’s genius, Homer, as it were, personally rose to forbid Britons doing

him that ignoble wrong; it is {{Page 59}}less pardonable, by that effeminate

decoration, to put Achilles in petticoats a second time: How much nobler had

it been, if his numbers had rolled on in full flow, through the various

modulations of masculine melody, into those grandeurs of solemn sound, which

are indispensably demanded by the native dignity of Heroick song? §229 How

much nobler, if he had resisted the temptation of that Gothic Dæmon, which

modern Poesy tasting, became mortal? §230 O how unlike the deathless, divine

harmony of three great names (how justly join’d!), of Milton, Greece, and

Rome? His Verse, but for this little speck of mortality, in its extreme

parts, as his Hero had in his Heel; like him, had been invulnerable, and

immortal. §231 But, unfortunately, that was undipt in Heli-{{Page 60}}con;

as this, in Styx. §232 Harmony as well as Eloquence is essential to poesy;

and a murder of his Musick is putting half Homer to death. §233 Blank is a

term of diminution; what we mean by blank verse, is verse unfallen, uncurst;

verse reclaim’d, reinthron’d in the true language of the Gods; who never

thunder’d nor suffer’d their Homer to thunder, in Rhime; and therefore, I

beg you, my Friend, to crown it with some nobler term; nor let the greatness

of the thing lie under the defamation of such a name.

¶49 §234 But supposing Pope’s Iliad to have been perfect in its kind; yet it

is a Translation still; which differs as much from an Original, as the moon

from the sun. {{Page 61}}

          --Phoeben alieno jusserat igne Impleri, solemque suo. CLAUD.

But, as nothing is more easy than to write originally wrong; Originals are

not here recommended, but under the strong guard of my first rule--Know

thyself. §235 Lucian, who was an Original, neglected not this rule, if we

may judge by his reply to one who took some freedom with him. §236 He was,

at first, an apprentice to a Statuary; and when he was reflected on as such,

by being called Prometheus, he replied, "I am indeed the Inventor of new

work, the model of which I owe to none; and, if I do not execute it well, I

deserve to be torne by twelve Vulturs, instead of one." {{Page 62}}

¶50 §237 If so, O Gulliver! dost thou not shudder at thy brother Lucian’s

vulturs hovering o’er thee? §238 Shudder on! they cannot shock thee more,

than Decency has been shock’d by thee. §239 How have thy Houyhnhunms thrown

thy judgment from its seat, and laid thy imagination in the mire? §240 In

what ordure hast thou dipt thy pencil? §241 What a monster hast thou made of

the

          — Human face Divine? MILT.

This writer has so satirised human nature, as to give a demonstration in

himself, that it deserves to be satirised. §242 But, say his wholesale

admirers, Few could so have written; true, and Fewer would. If it required

great abilities to commit the fault, greater still would have saved him from

it. §243 But whence arise such warm advocates for such a {{Page 63}}

performance? §244 From hence, (viz. ) before a character is established,

Merit makes fame; afterwards fame makes merit. §245 Swift is not commended

for this piece, but this piece for Swift. §246 He has given us some

beauties which deserve all our praise; and our comfort is, that his faults

will not become common; for none can be guilty of them, but who have Wit as

well as Reputation to spare. §247 His wit had been less wild, if his Temper

had not jostled his Judgment. §248 If his favourite Houyhnhunms could write,

and Swift had been one of them, every Horse with him would have been an Ass,

and he would have written a panegyrick on mankind, saddling with much

reproach the present heroes of his pen: On the contrary, being born amongst

men, and, of consequence, piqued {{Page 64}}by many, and peevish at more, he

has blasphemed a nature little lower than that of Angels, and assumed by far

higher than they: But surely the contempt of the world is not a greater

virtue, than the contempt of mankind is a vice. §249 Therefore I wonder

that, though forborn by others, the laughter-loving Swift, was not reproved

by the venerable Dean, who could sometimes be very grave.

¶51 §250 For I remember, as I and others were taking with him an evening’s

walk, about a mile out of Dublin, he stopt short; we passed on; but

perceiving that he did not follow us, I went back; and found him fixed as a

statue, and earnestly gazing upward at a noble elm, which in its uppermost

branches was much withered, and decayed. §251 Pointing at {{Page 65}}it, he

said, "I shall be like that tree, I shall die at top." As in this he seemed

to prophesy like the Sybils; if, like one of them, he had burnt part of his

works, especially this blasted branch of a noble Genius, like her too, he

might have risen in his demand for the rest.

¶52 §252 Would not his friend Pope have succeeded better in an original

attempt? §253 Talents untried are talents unknown. §254 All that I know, is,

that, contrary to these sentiments, he was not only an avowed professor of

Imitation, but a zealous recommender of it also. §255 Nor could he recommend

any thing better, except Emulation, to those who write. §256 One of these

all writers must call to their aid; but aids they are of unequal repute.

§257 Imitation is inferiority con- {{Page 66}}fessed; Emulation is

superiority contested, or denied; Imitation is servile, Emulation generous;

That fetters, This fires; That may give a name; This, a name immortal: This

made Athens to succeeding ages the rule of taste, and the standard of

perfection. §258 Her men of Genius struck fire against each other; and

kindled, by conflict, into glories no time shall extinguish. §259 We thank

Eschylus for Sophocles; and Parrhasius for Zeuxis ; Emulation, for both.

§260 That bids us fly the general fault of Imitators; bids us not be struck

with the loud report of former fame, as with a Knell, which damps the

spirits; but, as with a Trumpet, which inspires ardour to rival the

renown’d. §261 Emulation exhorts us, instead of learning our discipline for

ever, like raw {{Page 67}}troops, under antient leaders in composition, to

put those laurel’d veterans in some hazard of losing their superior posts in

glory.

¶53 §262 Such is Emulation’s high-spirited advice, such her immortalizing

call. §263 Pope would not hear, pre-engaged with Imitation, which blessed

him with all her charms. §264 He chose rather, with his namesake of Greece,

to triumph in the old world, than to look out for a new. §265 His taste

partook the error of his Religion; it denied not worship to Saints and

Angels; that is, to writers, who, canonized for ages, have received their

apotheosis from established and universal fame. §266 True Poesy, like true

Religion, abhors idolatry; and though it honours the memory of the

exemplary, and takes them {{Page 68}}willingly (yet cautiously) as guides in

the way to glory; real, though unexampled, excellence is its only aim; nor

looks it for any inspiration less than divine.

¶54 §267 Though Pope’s noble Muse may boast her illustrious descent from

Homer, Virgil, Horace, yet is an Original author more nobly born. §268 As

Tacitus says of Curtius Rufus, an Original author is born of himself, is his

own progenitor, and will probably propagate a numerous offspring of

Imitators, to eternize his glory; while mule-like Imitators, die without

issue. §269 Therefore, tho’ we stand much obliged for his giving us an

Homer, yet had he doubled our obligation, by giving us--a Pope. §270 Had he

a strong Imagination, and the true Sublime? §271 That {{Page 69}}granted, we

might have had two Homers instead of one, if longer had been his life; for I

heard the dying swan talk over an Epic plan a few weeks before his decease.

¶55 §272 Bacon, under the shadow of whose great name I would shelter my

present attempt in favour of Originals, says, "Men seem not to know their

own stock, and abilities; but fancy their possessions to be greater, and

their abilities less, than they really are." Which is, in effect, saying,

"That we ought to exert more than we do; and that, on exertion, our

probability of success is greater than we conceive."

¶56 §273 Nor have I Bacon’s opinion only, but his assistance too, on my

side. §274 {{Page 70}}His mighty mind travelled round the intellectual

world; and, with a more than eagle’s eye, saw, and has pointed out blank

spaces, or dark spots in it, on which the human mind never shone: Some of

these have been enlightened since; some are benighted still.

¶57 §275 Moreover, so boundless are the bold excursions of the human mind,

that in the vast void beyond real existence, it can call forth shadowy

beings, and unknown worlds, as numerous, as bright, and, perhaps, as

lasting, as the stars; such quite-original beauties we may call

Paradisaical,

          Natos sine semine flores. OVID.

When such an ample area for renowned adventure in original at-{{Page

71}}tempts lies before us, shall we be as mere leaden pipes, conveying to

the present age small streams of excellence from its grand reservoir in

antiquity; and those too, perhaps, mudded in the pass? §276 Originals shine,

like comets; have no peer in their path; are rival’d by none, and the gaze

of all: All other compositions (if they shine at all) shine in clusters;

like the stars in the galaxy; where, like bad neighbours, all suffer from

all; each particular being diminished, and almost lost in the throng.

¶58 §277 If thoughts of this nature prevailed; if Antients and Moderns were

no longer considered as masters and pupils, but as hard-match’d rivals for

renown; then moderns, by the longevity of their labours, might, one day,

become antients them-{{Page 72}}selves: And old Time, that best weigher of

merits, to keep his balance even, might have the golden weight of an

Augustan age in both his scales: Or rather our scale might descend; and

antiquity’s (as a modern match for it strongly speaks) might kick the beam.

¶59 §278 And why not? §279 For, consider, since an impartial Providence

scatters talents indifferently, as thro’ all orders of persons, so thro’ all

periods of time; since, a marvelous light, unenjoy’d of old, is pour’d on us

by revelation, with larger prospects extending our Understanding, with

brighter objects enriching our Imagination, with an inestimable prize

setting our Passions on fire, thus strengthening every power that enables

composition to shine; since, {{Page 73}}there has been no fall in man on

this side Adam, who left no works, and the works of all other antients are

our auxiliars against themselves, as being perpetual spurs to our ambition,

and shining lamps in our path to fame; since, this world is a school, as

well for intellectual, as moral, advance; and the longer human nature is at

school, the better scholar it should be; since, as the moral world expects

its glorious Milennium, the world intellectual may hope, by the rules of

analogy, for some superior degrees of excellence to crown her latter scenes;

nor may it only hope, but must enjoy them too; for Tully, Quintillian, and

all true critics allow, that virtue assists Genius, and that the writer will

be more able, when better is the man — All these parti-{{Page 74}} culars,

I say, consider’d, why should it seem altogether impossible, that heaven’s

latest editions of the human mind may be the most correct, and fair; that

the day may come, when the moderns may proudly look back on the comparative

darkness of former ages, on the children of antiquity; reputing Homer, and

Demosthenes, as the dawn of divine Genius; and on Athens as the cradle of

infant Fame; what a glorious revolution would this make in the rolls of

renown?

¶60 §280 What a rant, say you, is here?--I partly grant it: Yet, consider,

my Friend! knowlege physical, mathematical, moral, and divine, increases;

all arts and sciences are making considerable advance; with them, all the

accommodations, orna-{{Page 75}}ments, delights, and glories of human life;

and these are new food to the Genius of a polite writer; these are as the

root, and composition, as the flower; and as the root spreads, and thrives,

shall the flower fail? §281 As well may a flower flourish, when the root is

dead. §282 It is Prudence to read, Genius to relish, Glory to surpass,

antient authors; and Wisdom to try our strength in an attempt in which it

would be no great dishonour to fail.

¶61 §283 Why condemn’d Maro his admirable Epic to the flames? §284 Was it

not because his discerning eye saw some length of perfection beyond it? §285

And what he saw, may not others reach? §286 And who bid fairer than our

countrymen for that glory? §287 Something new may be expected from {{Page

76}}Britons particularly; who seem not to be more sever’d from the rest of

mankind by the surrounding sea, than by the current in their veins; and of

whom little more appears to be required, in order to give us Originals, than

a consistency of character, and making their compositions of a piece with

their lives.

¶62 §288 In polite composition, in natural, and mathematical, knowlege, we

have great Originals already: Bacon, Newton, Shakespeare, Milton, have

showed us, that all the winds cannot blow the British flag farther, than an

Original spirit can convey the British fame; their names go round the world;

and what foreign Genius strikes not as they pass? §289 Why should not their

posterity embark in the same bold bottom of {{Page 77}}new enterprize, and

hope the same success? §290 Hope it they may; or you must assert, that

either those Originals, which we already enjoy, were written by Angels, or

deny that we are Men. §291 As Simonides said to Pausanias, reason should say

to the writer, "Remember thou art a man." And for man not to grasp at all

which is laudable within his reach, is a dishonour to human nature, and a

disobedience to the divine; for as heaven does nothing in vain, its gift of

talents implies an injunction of their use.

¶63 §292 A friend of mine has obeyed that injunction; he has relied on

himself, and with a Genius, as well moral, as original (to speak in bold

terms), has cast out evil spirits; has made a convert to virtue of a species

of {{Page 78}}composition, once most its foe. §293 As the first christian

Emperors expell’d dæmons, and dedicated their temples to the living God.

¶64 §294 But you, I know, are sparing in your praise of this author;

therefore I will speak of one, which is sure of your applause. §295

Shakespeare mingled no water with his wine, lower’d his Genius by no vapid

Imitation. §296 Shakespeare gave us a Shakespeare, nor could the first in

antient fame have given us more. §297 Shakespeare is not their Son, but

Brother; their Equal, and that, in spite of all his faults. §298 Think you

this too bold? §299 Consider, in those antients what is it the world

admires? §3301 Not the fewness of their Faults, but the number and

brightness of their Beauties; and if Shakespeare is their equal (as he

{{Page 79}} doubtless is) in that, which in them is admired, then is

Shakespeare as great as they; and not impotence, but some other cause, must

be charged with his defects. §302 When we are setting these great men in

competition, what but the comparative size of their Genius is the subject of

our inquiry? §303 And a giant loses nothing of his size, tho’ he should

chance to trip in his race. §304 But it is a compliment to those heroes of

antiquity to suppose Shakespeare their equal only in dramatic powers;

therefore, tho’ his faults had been greater, the scale would still turn in

his favour. §305 There is at least as much Genius on the British, as on the

Grecian stage, tho’ the former is not swept so clean; so clean from

violations not only of the dramatic, but moral rule; for an honest hea-

{{Page 80}}then, on reading some of our celebrated scenes, might be

seriously concerned to see, that our obligations to the religion of nature

were cancel’d by Christianity.

¶65 §306 Johnson, in the serious drama, is as much an Imitator, as

Shakespeare is an Original. §307 He was very learned, as Sampson was very

strong, to his own hurt: Blind to the nature of Tragedy, he pulled down all

antiquity on his head, and buried himself under it; we see nothing of

Johnson, nor indeed, of his admired (but also murdered) antients; for what

shone in the Historian is a cloud on the Poet; and Cataline might have been

a good play, if Salust had never writ. {{Page 81}}

¶66 §308 Who knows if Shakespeare might not have thought less, if he had

read more? §309 Who knows if he might not have laboured under the load of

Johnson’s learning, as Enceladus under Ætna? His mighty Genius, indeed,

thro’ the most mountainous oppression would have breathed out some of his

inextinguishable fire; yet, possibly, he might not have risen up into that

giant, that much more than common man, at which we now gaze with amazement,

and delight. §310 Perhaps he was as learned as his dramatic province

required; for whatever other learning he wanted, he was master of two books,

unknown to many of the profoundly read, tho’ books, which, the last

conflagration alone can destroy; the book of Nature, and that of Man. §311

These he had by heart, and has tran- {{Page 82}}scribed many admirable pages

of them, into his immortal works. §312 These are the fountain-head, whence

the Castalian streams of original composition flow; and these are often

mudded by other waters, tho’ waters in their distinct chanel, most wholesome

and pure: As two chymical liquors, separately clear as crystal, grow foul by

mixture, and offend the sight. §313 So that he had not only as much learning

as his dramatic province required, but, perhaps, as it could safely bear.

¶67 §314 Dryden, destitute of Shakespeare’s Genius, had almost as much

learning as Johnson and, for the buskin, quite as little taste. §315 He was

a stranger to the Pathos, and by numbers, expression, sentiment, and every

other dramatic cheat, {{Page 83}}strove to make amends for it; as if a Saint

could make amends for the want of conscience; a Soldier, for the want of

valour; or a Vestal, of modesty. §316 The noble nature of tragedy disclaims

an equivalent; like virtue, it demands the heart; and Dryden had none to

give. §317 Let Epic poets think, the tragedian’s point is rather to feel;

such distant things are a tragedian and a poet, that the latter indulged,

destroys the former. §318 Look on Barnwell, and Essex, and see how as to

these distant characters Dryden excells, and is excelled. §319 But the

strongest demonstration of his no-taste for the buskin, are his tragedies

fringed with rhyme; which, in Epic poetry, is a sore disease; in the Tragic,

absolute death. §320 To Dryden ’s enormity, Pope’s was a light offence. §321

As lacemen are foes {{Page 84}}to mourning, these two authors, rich in

rhyme, were no great friends to those solemn ornaments which the nature of

their works required.

¶68 §322 Must rhyme then, say you, be banished? §323 I wish the nature of

our language could bear its intire expulsion; but our lesser poetry stands

in need of a toleration for it; it raises That, but it sinks the Great; as

spangles adorn children, but expose men. §324 Prince Henry bespangled all

over in his oylet-hole suit, with glittering pins; and an Achilles, or an

Almanzor, in this Gothic array; are very much on a level, as to the majesty

of the poet, and the prince. §325 Dryden had a great, but a general

capacity; and as for a general Genius, there is no such thing in nature: A

Genius implies the rays of {{Page 85}}the mind concenter’d, and determined

to some particular point; when they are scatter’d widely, they act feebly,

and strike not with sufficient force, to fire, or dissolve, the heart. §326

As what comes from the Writer’s heart, reaches ours; so what comes from his

head, sets our brains at work, and our hearts at ease. §327 It makes a

circle of thoughtful Critics, not of distressed Patients; and a passive

audience, is what tragedy requires. §328 Applause is not to be given, but

extorted; and the silent lapse of a single tear, does the writer more

honour, than the rattling thunder of a thousand hands. §329 Applauding

hands, and dry eyes (which during Dryden’s theatrical reign often met) are a

satire on the Writer’s talent, and the Spectator’s taste. §330 When by such

{{Page 86}}judges the laurel is blindly given, and by such a poet proudly

received, they resemble an intoxicated hoste, and his tasteless guests, over

some sparkling adulteration, commending their Champaign.

¶69 §331 But Dryden has his glory, tho’ not on the stage: What an inimitable

original is his Ode? §332 A small one, indeed, but of the first lustre, and

without a flaw; and, amid the brightest boasts of antiquity, it may find a

foil.

¶70 §333 Among the brightest of the moderns, |Mr.| Addison must take his

place. §334 Who does not approach his character with great respect? §335

They who refuse to close with the public in his praise, refuse at their

peril. §336 But, if men will be fond of their {{Page 87}}own opinions, some

hazard must be run. §337 He had, what Dryden and Johnson wanted, a warm, and

feeling heart; but, being of a grave and bashful nature, thro’ a philosophic

reserve, and a sort of moral prudery, he conceal’d it, where he should have

let loose all his fire, and have show’d the most tender sensibilities of

heart. §338 At his celebrated Cato, few tears are shed, but Cato’s own;

which, indeed, are truly great, but unaffecting, except to the noble Few,

who love their country better than themselves. §339 The bulk of mankind want

virtue enough to be touched by them. §340 His strength of Genius has reared

up one glorious image, more lofty, and truly golden, than that in the plains

of Dura, for cool admiration to gaze at, and warm patriotism (how rare!) to

wor-{{Page 88}} ship; while those two throbbing pulses of the drama, by

which alone it is shown to live, terror and pity, neglected thro’ the whole,

leave our unmolested hearts at perfect peace. §341 Thus the poet, like his

hero, thro’ mistaken excellence, and virtue overstrain’d, becomes a sort of

suicide; and that which is most dramatic in the drama, dies. §342 All his

charms of poetry are but as funeral flowers, which adorn; all his noble

Sentiments but as rich spices, which embalm, the tragedy deceased.

¶71 §343 Of tragedy, Pathos is not only the life and soul, but the soul

inextinguishable; it charms us thro’ a thousand faults. §344 Decorations,

which in this author abound, tho’ they might immortalize other poesy, are

the splendida peccata which {{Page 89}} damn the drama; while, on the

contrary, the murder of all other beauties is a venial sin, nor plucks the

Laurel from the tragedian’s brow.

¶72 §345 Socrates frequented the plays of Euripides; and, what living

Socrates would decline the theatre, at the representation of Cato? §346

Tully’s assassins found him in his litter, reading the Medea of the Grecian

poet, to prepare himself for death. §347 Part of Cato might be read to the

same end. §348 In the weight and dignity of moral reflection, Addison

resembles that poet, who was called the dramatic philosopher; and is

himself, as he says of Cato, ambitiously sententious. But as to the singular

talent so remarkable in Euripides, at melting down hearts into {{Page

90}}the tender streams of grief and pity, there the resemblance fails. §349

His beauties sparkle, but do not warm; they sparkle as stars in a frosty

night. §350 There is, indeed, a constellation in his play; there is the

philosopher, patriot, orator, and poet; but where is the tragedian? §351

And, if that is wanting,

          Cur in theatrum Cato severe venisti? MART.

And, when I recollect what passed between him and Dryden, in relation to

this drama, I must add the next line,

          An ideo tantum veneras, ut exires?

For, when Addison was a student at Oxford, he sent up this play to his

friend Dryden, as a proper person to recommend it to the Theatre, if {{Page

91}}it deserved it; who returned it, with very great commendation; but with

his opinion, that, on the stage, it could not meet with its deserved

success. §352 But tho’ the performance was denied the theatre, it brought

its author on the public stage of life. §353 For persons in power inquiring

soon after of the head of his college for a youth of parts, Addison was

recommended, and readily received, by means of the great reputation which

Dryden had just then spread of him above.

¶73 §354 There is this similitude between the poet and the play; as This is

more fit for the closet than the stage; so, That shone brighter in private

conversation than on the public scene. §355 They both had a sort of local

excellency, as the heathen gods {{Page 92}}a local divinity; beyond such a

bound they, unadmired; and these, unadored. §356 This puts me in mind of

Plato, who denied Homer to the public; that Homer, which, when in his

closet, was rarely out of his hand. §357 Thus, tho’ Cato is not calculated

to signalize himself in the warm emotions of the theatre, yet we find him a

most amiable companion, in our calmer delights of recess.

¶74 §358 Notwithstanding what has been offered, This, in many views, is an

exquisite piece. §359 But there is so much more of art, than nature in it,

that I can scarce forbear calling it, an exquisite piece of statuary,

          Where the smooth chisel all its skill has shown, To soften into

          flesh the rugged stone. ADDISON.

{{Page 93}} That is, where art has taken great pains to labour undramatic

matter into dramatic life; which is impossible. §360 However, as it is, like

Pygmalion, we cannot but fall in love with it, and wish it was alive. §361

How would a Shakespeare, or an Otway, have answered our wishes? §362 They

would have outdone Prometheus, and, with their heavenly fire, have given him

not only life, but immortality. §363 At their dramas (such is the force of

nature) the Poet is out of sight, quite hid behind his Venus, never thought

of, till the curtain falls. §364 Art brings our author forward, he stands

before his piece; splendidly indeed, but unfortunately; for the writer must

be forgotten by his audience, during the representation, if for ages he

would be remembered by posterity. §365 In the {{Page 94}}theatre, as in

life, delusion is the charm; and we are undelighted, the first moment we are

undeceived. §366 Such demonstration have we, that the theatre is not yet

opened, in which solid happiness can be found by man; because none are more

than comparatively good; and folly has a corner in the heart of the wise.

¶75 §367 A Genius fond of ornament should not be wedded to the tragic muse,

which is in mourning: We want not to be diverted at an entertainment, where

our greatest pleasure arises from the depth of our concern. §368 But whence

(by the way) this odd generation of pleasure from pain? §369 The movement of

our melancholy passions is pleasant, when we ourselves are safe: We love to

be, {{Page 95}}at once, miserable, and unhurt: So are we made; and so made,

perhaps, to show us the divine goodness; to show that none of our passions

were designed to give us pain, except when being pain’d is for our advantage

on the whole; which is evident from this instance, in which we see, that

passions the most painful administer greatly, sometimes, to our delight.

¶76 §370 To close our thoughts on Cato: He who sees not much beauty in it,

has no taste for poetry; he who sees nothing else, has no taste for the

stage. §371 While it justifies censure, it extorts applause. §372 It is much

to be admired, but little to be felt. §373 Had it not been a tragedy, it had

been immortal; as it is a tragedy, its uncommon fate somewhat resembles

{{Page 96}}his, who, for conquering gloriously, was condemn’d to die. §374

Both shone, but shone fatally; because in breach of their respective laws,

the laws of the drama, and the laws of arms. §375 But how rich in reputation

must that author be, who can spare a Cato, without feeling the loss.

¶77 §376 That loss by our author would scarce be felt; it would be but

dropping a single feather from a wing, that mounts him above his

cotemporaries. §377 He has a more refined, decent, judicious, and extensive

Genius, than Pope, or Swift. To distinguish this triumvirate from each other,

and, like Newton, to discover the different colours in these genuine and

meridian rays of literary light, Swift is a singular wit, Pope a correct

poet, Addison a great author. §378 Swift {{Page 97}}looked on Wit as the Jus

divinum to dominion and sway in the world; and considered as usurpation, all

power that was lodged in persons of less sparkling understandings. §379 This

inclined him to tyranny in wit; Pope was somewhat of his opinion, but was

for softening tyranny into lawful monarchy; yet were there some acts of

severity in his reign. §380 Addison’s crown was elective, he reigned by the

public voice:

          — Volentes Per populos dat jura viamque affectat Olympo. VIRG.

¶78 §381 But as good books are the medicine of the mind, if we should

dethrone these authors, and consider them, not in their royal, but their

medicinal capacity, might it not then be said, that Addison prescribed a

wholesome and pleasant {{Page 98}}regimen, which was universally relished,

and did much good; that Pope preferred a purgative of satire, which, tho’

wholesome, was too painful in its operation; and that Swift insisted on a

large dose of ipecacuanha, which, tho’ readily swallowed from the fame of

the physician, yet, if the patient had any delicacy of taste, he threw up

the remedy, instead of the disease?

¶79 §382 Addison wrote little in Verse, much in sweet, elegant, Virgilian,

Prose; so let me call it, since Longinus calls Herodotus most Homeric, and

Thucydides is said to have formed his style on Pindar. §383 Addison’s

compositions are built with the finest materials, in the taste of the

antients, and (to speak his own language) on truly Classic ground: {{Page

99}} And tho’ they are the delight of the present age, yet am I persuaded

that they will receive more justice from posterity. §384 I never read him,

but I am struck with such a disheartening idea of perfection, that I drop my

pen. §385 And, indeed, far superior writers should forget his compositions,

if they would be greatly pleased with their own.

¶80 §386 But you say, that you know his value already--You know, indeed, the

value of his writings, and close with the world in thinking them immortal;

but, I believe, you know not, that his name would have deserved immortality,

tho’ he had never written; and that, by a better title than the pen can

give: You know too, that his life was amiable; but, perhaps, you are still

to learn, that {{Page 100}} his death was triumphant: That is a glory

granted to very few: And the paternal hand of Providence, which, sometimes,

snatches home its beloved children in a moment, must convince us, that it is

a glory of no great consequence to the dying individual; that, when it is

granted, it is granted chiefly, for the sake of the surviving world, which

may profit by his pious example, to whom is indulged the strength, and

opportunity to make his virtue shine out brightest at the point of death:

And, here, permit me to take notice, that the world will, probably, profit

more by a pious example of lay-extraction, than by one born of the church;

the latter being, usually, taxed with an abatement of influence by the bulk

of mankind: Therefore, to smother a bright example of this {{Page

101}}superior good influence, may be reputed a sort of murder injurious to

the living, and unjust to the dead.

¶81 §387 Such an example have we in Addison; which, tho’ hitherto

suppressed, yet, when once known, is insuppressible, of a nature too rare,

too striking to be forgotten. §388 For, after a long, and manly, but vain

struggle with his distemper, he dismissed his physicians, and with them all

hopes of life: But with his hopes of life he dismissed not his concern for

the living, but sent for a youth nearly related, and finely accomplished,

but not above being the better for good impressions from a dying friend: He

came; but life now glimmering in the socket, the dying friend was silent:

After a decent, and proper pause, the youth said, {{Page 102}}"Dear Sir! you

sent for me: I believe, and I hope, that you have some commands; I shall

hold them most sacred:” May distant ages not only hear, but feel the reply!

§389 Forcibly grasping the youth’s hand, he softly said, "See in what peace

a Christian can die." He spoke with difficulty, and soon expired. §390 Thro’

grace divine, how great is man? §391 Thro’ divine Mercy, how stingless

death! §392 Who would not thus expire?

¶82 §393 What an inestimable legacy were those few dying words to the youth

beloved? §394 What a glorious supplement to his own valuable fragment on the

truth of Christianity? §395 What a full demonstration, that his fancy could

not feign beyond what his virtue could reach? §396 For when he {{Page

103}}would strike us most strongly with the grandeur of Roman magnanimity,

his dying hero is ennobled with this sublime sentiment,

          While yet I live, let me not live in vain. CATO.

¶83 §397 But how much more sublime is that sentiment when realized in life;

when dispelling the languors, and appeasing the pains of a last hour; and

brightening with illustrious action the dark avenue, and all-awful confines

of an Eternity? §398 When his soul scarce animated his body, strong Faith,

and ardent Charity, animated his soul into divine ambition of saving more

than his own. §399 It is for our honour, and our advantage, to hold him high

in our esteem: For the better men are, the more they will admire him; and

the more {{Page 104}}they admire him, the better will they be.

¶84 §401 By undrawing the long-closed curtain of his death-bed, have I not

showed you a stranger in him whom you knew so well? §402 Is not this of your

favourite author,

          --Notâ major imago? VIRG.

His compositions are but a noble preface; the grand work is his death: That

is a work which is read in heaven: How has it join’d the final approbation

of angels to the previous applause of men? §403 How gloriously has he opened

a splendid path, thro’ fame immortal, into eternal peace? §404 How has he

given religion to triumph amidst the ruins of his nature? §405 And, stronger

than {{Page 105}}death, risen higher in virtue when breathing his last?

¶85 §406 If all our men of Genius had so breathed their last; if all our men

of Genius, like him, had been men of Genius for eternals; then, had we never

been pained by the report of a latter end--oh! how unlike to this? §407 But

a little to balance our pain, let us consider, that such reports as make us,

at once, adore, and tremble, are of use, when too many there are, who must

tremble before they will adore; and who convince us, to our shame, that the

surest refuge of our endanger’d virtue is in the fears, and terrors of the

disingenuous human heart.

¶86 §408 "But reports, you say, may be false; and you farther ask me, {{Page

106}}If all reports were true, how came an anecdote of so much honour to

human nature, as mine, to lie so long unknown? §409 What inauspicious planet

interposed to lay its lustre under so lasting, and so surprizing an

eclipse?"

¶87 §410 The fact is indisputably true; nor are you to rely on me for the

truth of it: My report is but a second edition: It was published before,

tho’ obscurely, and with a cloud before it.

¶00 As clouds before the sun are often beautiful; so, this of which I speak.

How finely pathetic are those two lines, which this so solemn, and affecting

scene inspired?

          He taught us how to live; and, oh! too high A price for knowlege,

          taught us how to die. TICKELL.

{{Page 107}}

¶88 §411 With truth wrapped in darkness, so sung our oracle to the public;

but explained himself to me: He was present at his patron’s death, and that

account of it here given, he gave to me before his eyes were dry: By what

means Addison taught us how to die, the Poet left to be made known by a

late, and less able hand; but one more zealous for his patron’s glory:

Zealous, and impotent, as the poor Ægyptian, who gather’d a few splinters of

a broken boat, as a funeral-pile for the great Pompey, studious of doing

honour to so renown’d a name: Yet had not this poor plank (permit me, here,

so to call this imperfect page) been thrown out, the chief article of his

patron’s glory, would probably have been sunk for ever, and late ages had

received but a fragment of his {{Page 108}}fame: A fragment glorious indeed,

for his Genius how bright! §412 But to commend him for composition, tho’

immortal, is detraction now; if there our encomium ends: Let us look farther

to that concluding scene, which spoke human nature not unrelated to the

divine.

¶00 To that let us pay the long, and large arrear of our greatly posthumous

applause.

¶89 §413 This you will think a long digression; and justly; if that may be

called a digression, which was my chief inducement for writing at all: I had

long wished to deliver up to the public this sacred deposit, which by

Providence was lodged in my hands; and I entered on the present undertaking

partly as an introduction to that, which is more worthy to see the light; of

which I gave an {{Page 109}}intimation in the beginning of my Letter: For

this is the monumental marble there mentioned, to which I promised to

conduct you; this is the sepulchral lamp, the long-hidden lustre of our

accomplished countryman, who now rises, as from his tomb, to receive the

regard so greatly due to the dignity of his death; a death to be

distinguished by tears of joy; a death which angels beheld with delight.

¶90 §414 And shall that, which would have shone conspicuous amid the

resplendent lights of Christianity’s glorious morn, by these dark days be

dropped into oblivion? §415 Dropped it is; and dropped by our sacred,

august, and ample register of renown, which has entered in its

marble-memoirs the dim splendor of far inferior worth: {{Page 110}}Tho’ so

lavish of praise, and so talkative of the dead, yet is it silent on a

subject, which (if any) might have taught its unletter’d stones to speak: If

powers were not wanting, a monument more durable than those of marble,

should proudly rise in this ambitious page, to the new, and far nobler

Addison, than that which you, and the public have so long, and so much

admired; nor this nation only; for it is Europe’s Addison, as well as ours;

tho’ Europe knows not half his title to her esteem; being as yet unconscious

that the dying Addison far outshines her Addison immortal: Would we resemble

him? §416 Let us not limit our ambition to the least illustrious part of his

character; heads, indeed, are crowned on earth; but hearts only are crowned

in heaven: A truth, {{Page 111}}which, in such an age of authors, should not

be forgotten.

¶91 §417 It is piously to be hoped, that this narrative may have some

effect, since all listen, when a death-bed speaks; and regard the person

departing as an Actor of a part, which the great master of the drama has

appointed us to perform to-morrow: This was a Roscius on the stage of life;

his Exit how great? §418 Ye lovers of virtue! §419 plaudite: And let us, my

Friend! ever "remember his end, as well as our own, that we may never do

amiss." I am,

§420 Dear SIR,

Your most obliged, humble Servant.

{{Page 112}}

¶92 §421 |P. S.| How far Addison is an Original, you will see in my next;

where I descend from this consecrated ground into his sublunary praise: And

great is the descent, tho’ into noble heights of intellectual power.