Discourse on Criticism and of Poetry Part 1

Discourse on Criticism and of Poetry (1707).

by Samuel Cobb.

Introduction

What little is known of the life of Samuel Cobb (1675-1713) may be found in the brief article in the _Dictionary of National Biography_ by W.P.

Courtney. He was born in London, and educated at Christ's Hospital and at Trinity College, Cambridge, where he obtained the degrees of B.A., 1698, and M.A., 1702. He was appointed "under grammar master" at Christ's Hospital in 1702 and continued his connection with this school until his early death. He had a reputation for wit and learning, and also for imbibing somewhat too freely. In his poetry he especially cultivated the style of the free Pindaric ode, a predilection which won him a mention without honor in Johnson's life of Pope (_Lives of the Poets_, ed. Birkbeck Hill, III, 227). Even the heroic couplets of his poem on "Poetry" aim rather at pseudo-Pindaric diffuseness than at epigrammatic concentration of statement. As a critic Cobb deserves attention in spite of his mediocrity, or even because of it. He helps to fill out the picture of the literary London of his time, and his opinions and tastes provide valuable side-lights on such greater men as Dennis, Addison, and Pope. "Of Poetry" belongs to the prolific literary type of "progress poems," in which the modern student finds illuminating statements as to how the eighteenth century surveyed and evaluated past literary traditions. The list of Cobb's publications in the _Cambridge Bibliography_ suggests that he enjoyed some degree of popularity. His volume, _Poems on Several Occasions_, was published in 1707, and reprinted in enlarged form in 1709 and 1710. The reproduction herewith of the Preface "On Criticism" and the versified discourse "Of Poetry" is from a copy of the 1707 edition in the Newberry Library, in Chicago.

Louis I. Bredvold

University of Michigan

A DISCOURSE ON CRITICISM AND THE LIBERTY OF WRITING.

In a Letter to _Richard Carter_ Esq; late of the _Middle-Temple_, now living in _Barbadoes_.

SIR,

_The_ Muses _are said to be the Daughters of Memory: A Poet therefore must lay down his t.i.tle to their Favour, who can be forgetful of a Friend, like You, whose polite Knowledge, instructive Conversation, and particulur Generosity to my self, have left such strong Impressions upon my Mind, as defy the Power of Absence to remove them. I scarce believe Death it self can blot out an_ Idea _so firmly imprinted. The Soul, when it leaves this earthly Habitation, and has no more Use for those Vertues, which were serviceable in the Conduct of human Life, such as_ Temperance, Fort.i.tude _and the like, will certainly carry_ Love _and_ Grat.i.tude _along with it to Heaven. This may suffice to let the World know what Obligations you have laid upon me.

By this Letter (the room of which, for your sake I could willingly have supply'd) you will plainly see, that no Place, however remote, is able to secure you from the Zeal of a_ Friend, _and the Vanity of a_ Poet.

For tho' retiring to the _Western Isles_, At the long Distance of five thousand Miles, You've chang'd _dear London_ for your Native Seat, And think _Barbadoes_ is a safe Retreat; You highly err: Nor is the _Wat'ry Fence_ Sufficient Guard against Impertinence.

The _Muse_, which smiles on jingling Bards, like Me, Has always Winds to waft her o'er the Sea.

Blow on, ye Winds, and o'er th' _Atlantick Main_, Bear to my Gen'rous Friend this thankful Strain.

_You see, Sir, I have not left off that rhyming Trick of Youth; but knowing You to be a Gentleman who loves Variety in every thing, I thought it would not be ungrateful if I checquer'd my Prose with a little Verse._

_After this Preamble, it is presum'd, that one who lives on the Other side of the Globe, will expect by every Pacquet-boat to know what is done on This. Since Your Departure, Affairs have had a surprizing Turn every where, and particularly in_ Italy; _which Success of our Armies and Allies abroad, have given a manifest Proof of our wise Counsels at home.--Parties still run between_ High _and_ Low. _I shall make no Remarks on either; thinking it always more prudent, as well as more safe, to live peaceably under the Government in which I was born, rather than peevishly to quarrel with it._

_But You will cry,_ Who expects any thing from the Politicks of a Poet?

How goes the State of _Parna.s.sus_? What has the Battle of _Ramillies_ produc'd? _What Battles generally do; bad Poets, and worse Criticks. I could not perswade my self to attempt any thing above six Lines, which had not been made, were it not at the Request of a Musical Gentleman.

You will look upon them with the same Countenance you us'd to do on things of a larger Size._

Born to surprize the World, and teach the Great The slippery Danger of exalted State, Victorious _Marlbro_ to _Ramilly_ flies; Arm'd with new Lightning from bright _ANNA's_ Eyes.

Wonders like These, no former Age has seen; Subjects are _Heroes_, where a Saint's the _QUEEN_.

_Mr._ Congreve _has given the World an Ode, and prefix'd to it a Discourse on the_ Pindaric Verse, _of which more, when I come to speak on the same Argument: There are several others on that Subject, and some which will bear the Test; one particularly, written in imitation of the Style of_ Spencer; _and goes under the Name of Mr._ Prior; _I have not read it through, but_ ex pede Herculem. _He is a Gentleman who cannot write ill. Yet some of our_ Criticks _have fell upon it, as the Viper did on the File, to the detriment of their Teeth. So that Criticism, which was formerly the Art of judging well, is now become the pure Effect of Spleen, Pa.s.sion and Self-conceit. Nothing is perfect in every Part. He that expects to see any thing so, must have patience till_ Dooms-day. _The Wors.h.i.+p we pay to our own Opinion, generally leads its to the Contempt of another's. This blind Idolatry of_ Self _is the Mother of Errour; and this begets a secret Vanity in our_ Modern Censurers, _who, when they please to_ think a Meaning _for an Author, would thereby insinuate how much his Judgment is inferiour to their inlighten'd Sagacity. When, perhaps, the Failings they expose are a plain Evidence of their own Blindness._

For to display our Candour and our Sence, Is to discover some deep _Excellence_.

The Critick's faulty, while the Poet's free; They raise the _Mole hill, who want Eyes to see_.

_Excrescences are easily perceiv'd by an ordinary Eye; but it requires the Penetration of a_ Lynceus _to discern the Depth of a good Poem; the secret Artfulness and Contrivance of it being conceal'd from a Vulgar Apprehension._

_I remember somewhere an Observation of St._ Evremont _(an Author whom you us'd to praise, and whom therefore I admire) that some Persons, who would be Poets, which they cannot be, become Criticks which they can be.

The censorious Grin, and the loud Laugh, are common and easy things, according to_ Juvenal; _and according to_ Scripture, _the Marks of a_ Fool. _These Men are certainly in a deplorable Condition, who cannot be witty, but at another's Expence, and who take an unnatural kind of Pleasure in being uneasy at their Own._

Rules they can write, but, like the _College Tribe_, Take not that Physick which their Rules prescribe.

I scorn to praise a plodding, formal Fool, _Insipidly_ correct, and _dull_ by Rule: _Homer_, with all his _Nodding_, I would chuse, Before the more exact _Sicilian_ Muse.

Who'd not be _Dryden_; tho' his Faults are great, Sooner than our Laborious _Laureat_?

Not but a decent Neatness, I confess, In _Writing_ is requir'd, as well as _Dress_.

Yet still in both the _unaffected Air_ Will always please the _Witty_ and the _Fair_.

_I would not here be thought to be a Patron of slovenly Negligence; for there is nothing which breeds a greater Aversion in Men of a_ Delicate Taste. _Yet you know, Sir, that, after all our Care and Caution, the Weakness of our Nature will eternally mix it self in every thing we write; and an over curious Study of being correct, enervates the Vigour of the Mind, slackens the Spirits, and cramps the Genius of a_ Free Writer. _He who creeps by the Sh.o.r.e, may shelter himself from a Storm, but likely to make very few Discoveries: And the cautious Writer, who is timorous of disobliging the captious Reader, may produce you true Grammar, and unexceptionable_ Prosodia, _but most stupid Poetry._

In vitium culpae ducit fuga, si caret arte.

_A slavish Fear of committing an Oversight, betrays a Man to more inextricable Errours, than the Boldness of an enterprizing Author, whose artful Carelesness is more instructive and delightful than all the Pains and Sweat of the Poring and Bookish Critick._

_Some Failings, like Moles in a beautiful Countenance, take nothing from the Charms of a happy Composure, but rather heighten and improve their Value. Were our modern Reflecters Masters of more Humanity than Learning, and of more Discernment than both, the Authors of the Past and Present Ages, would have no reason to complain of Injustice; nor would that Reflection be cast upon the_ best-natur'd Nation _in the World, that, when rude and ignorant, we were unhospitable to Strangers, and now, being civiliz'd, we expend our Barbarity on one another_. Homer _would not be so much the Ridicule of our_ Beaux Esprits; _when, with all his Sleepiness, he is propos'd as the most exquisite Pattern of Heroic Writing, by the Greatest of Philosophers, and the Best of Judges.

Nor is_ Longinus _behind hand with_ Aristotle _in his Character of the same Author, when he tells us that the Greatness of_ Homer's _Soul look'd above little Trifles (which are Faults in meaner Capacities) and hurry'd on to his Subject with a Freedom of Spirit peculiar to himself.

A Racer at_ New-market _or the_ Downs, _which has been fed and drest, and with the nicest Caution prepared for the Course, will stumble perhaps at a little Hillock; while the Wings of_ Pegasus _bear him o'er Hills and Mountains,_

Sub pedibusq; videt nubes & sydera--

_Such was the Soul of_ Homer: _who is more justly admir'd by those who understand him, than he is derided by the Ignorant: Whose Writings partake as much of that Spirit, as he attributes to the Actions of his_ Heroes; _and whose Blindness is more truly chargeable on his_ Criticks, _than on_ Himself: _who, as he wrote without a Rule, was himself a Rule to succeeding Ages. Who as much deserves that Commendation which_ Alcibiades _gave to_ Socrates, _when he compar'd him to the Statues of the_ Sileni, _which to look upon, had nothing beautiful and ornamental; but open them, and there you might discover the Images of all the G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses._

_Who knows the secret Springs of the Soul, and those sudden Emotions, which excite ill.u.s.trious Men, to act and speak out of the_ Common Road?

_They seem irregular to Us by reason of the Fondness and Bigottry we pay to_ Custom, _which is no Standard to the Brave and the Wise. The Rules we receive in our first Education, are laid down with this Purpose, to restrain the_ Mind; _which by reason of the Tenderness of our Age and the ungovernable Disposition of Young Nature, is apt to start out into Excess and Extravagance. But when Time has ripen'd us, and Observation has fortify'd the Soul, we ought to lay aside those common Rules with our Leading strings; and exercise our Reason with a free, generous and manly Spirit. Thus a_ Good Poet _should make use of a Discretionary Command; like a_ Good General, _who may rightly wave the vulgar Precepts of the Military School (which may confine an ordinary Capacity, and curb the Rash and Daring) if by a new and surprizing Method of Conduct, he find out an uncommon Way to Glory and Success._

Bocalin, _the_ Italian _Wit, among his other odd Advertis.e.m.e.nts, has this remarkable one, which is parallel to the present Discourse. When_ Ta.s.so _(says he) had presented_ Apollo _with his_ Poem, _call'd_ Giurasalemme Liberata; _the_ Reformer _of the_ Delphic Library, _to whose Perusal it was committed, found fault with it, because it was not written according to the Rules of_ Aristotle; _which affront being complain'd of,_ Apollo _was highly incens'd, and chid_ Aristotle _for his Presumption in daring to prescribe Laws and Rules to the high Conceptions of the_ Virtuosi, _whose Liberty of Writing and Inventing, enrich'd the Schools and Libraries with gallant Composures; and to enslave the Wits of Learned Men, was to rob the World of those alluring Charms which daily flow'd from the Productions of Poets, who follow the Dint of their own unbounded Imagination. You will find the rest in the 28th Advertis.e.m.e.nt._

_The Moral is instructive; because to judge well and candidly, we must wean our selves from a slavish Bigotry to the Ancients. For, tho'_ Homer _and_ Virgil, Pindar _and_ Horace _be laid before us as Examples of exquisite Writing in the Heroic and Lyric Kind, yet, either thro' the Distance of Time, or Diversity of Customs, we can no more expect to find like Capacities, than like Complexions. Let a Man follow the Talent that Nature has furnish'd him with, and his own Observation has improv'd, we may hope to see Inventions in all Arts, which may dispute Superiority with the best of the_ Athenian _and_ Roman _Excellencies_.

Nec minimum meruere decus vestigia Graeca Ausi deserere.----

_It is another Rule of the same Gentleman, that we should attempt nothing beyond our Strength: There are some modern_ Milo's _who have been wedg'd in that Timber which they strove to rend. Some have fail'd in the Lyric Way who have been excellent in the Dramatic. And, Sir, would you not think a Physician would gain more Profit and Reputation by_ Hippocrates _and_ Galen _well-studied, than by_ Homer _and_ Virgil _ill-copied?_

Horace, _who was as great a Master of Judgment, as he was an Instance of Wit, would have laid the Errours of an establish'd Writer on a pardonable Want of Care, or excus'd them by the Infirmity of Human Nature; he would have wondred at the corrupt Palates now a-days, who quarrel with their Meat, when the Fault is in their Taste. To reform which, if our Moderns would lay aside the malicious Grin and drolling Sneer, the Pa.s.sions and Prejudices to Persons and Circ.u.mstances, we should have better Poems, and juster Criticisms. Nothing casts a greater Cloud on the Judgment than the Inclination (or rather Resolution) to praise or condemn, before we see the Object. The Rich and the Great lay a Trap for Fame, and have always a numerous Crowd of servile Dependants, to clap their Play, or admire their Poem._

For n.o.ble Scriblers are with Flattery fed, And none dare tell their Fault who eat their Bread.

_Dryden's Pers.._

Juvenal _shews his Aversion to this Prepossession, when his old disgusted Friend gives this among the rest of his Reasons why he left the Town,_

--Mentiri nescio: librum Si malus est, nequeo laudare & poscere.

_To conquer Prejudice is the part of a Philosopher; and to discern a Beauty is an Argument of good Sense and Sagacity; and to find a Fault with Allowances for human Frailty, is the Property of a Gentleman._

_Who then is this Critick? You will find him in_ Quintilius Varus, _of_ Cremona, _who when any Author shew'd him his Composure, laid aside the_ Fastus _common to our supercilious Readers; and when he happen'd on any Mistake_, Corrige sodes Hoc aiebat & hoc.