Chapter 3

Though the Rules of Art may be of great Service to improve a _Genius_, it is very prejudicial, in many Cases, to fetter it self with these Rules, or confine itself within those Limits which others have fixed. How little would Science have been improv'd, if every new _Genius_, that applies himself to any Branch of it, had made other Mens Light, his _ne plus_ _ultra_, and resolved to go no farther into it, than the Road had been beaten before him. No doubt there were Men of as good natural Abilities in the Ages before the Revival of Learning, as there have been since. But they were cramped with the Jargon of a wordy and unintelligible Philosophy, and durst not give themselves the Liberty to think in Religion, without the Boundaries fixed by the Church, for fear of Anathemas, and an Inquisition. Till those Fetters were broken, little Advance was made, for many Ages together, in any useful or solid Knowledge. In truth, every Man who makes a new Discovery, goes at first by himself; and as long as the greatest Minds are Content to go in Leading-strings, they will be but upon a Level with their Neighbours.

On the other Hand, Capacities of a lower size must be obliged to more of Imitation. All their Usefulness will be spoiled by forming too high Models for themselves. If they will be of Service, they must be content to keep the beaten Road. Should they attempt to soar too high, they will only meet with _Icarus_'s Fate. A common _Genius_ will serve many common Purposes exceeding well, and render a Man conspicuous enough, tho' there may be no distinguishing Splendor about him to dazzle the Beholders Eyes. But if he attempts any Thing beyond his Strength, he is sure to lose the Lustre which he had, if he does not also weaken his Capacity, and impair his _Genius_ into the Bargain. So just in all Cases is the Poet's Advice to Writers.

_Sumite Materiam vestris qui scribitis aquam Veribus_. Horat. _Weigh well your Strength_, _and never undertake What is above your Power_.

And this brings to Mind another very common Occasion of ruining many a good _Genius_; I mean, wrong Application. Nothing will satisfie Parents, but their Children must apply their Minds to one of the learned Professions, when, instead of consulting the Reputation or Interest of their Children, by such a preposterous Choice, they turn them out to live in an Element no way suited to their Nature, and expose them to Contempt and Beggary all their Days; while at the same Time they spoil an Head, admirably turn'd for Traffick or Mechanicks. And he is left to bring up the Rear in the learned Profession, or it may be lost in the Crowd, who would have shined in Trade, and made a prime Figure upon the Exchange. Many have by this Means _run their Heads against a Pulpit_, (as a Satyrical _Genius_ once expressed it) _who would have made admirable Ploughmen_.

There is a different Taste in Men, as to the learned Professions themselves, which qualities and disposes them for the one, but would never make them appear with any Lustre in another. This has been often made evident in the different Figures, which some, who lived in Obscurity before, have made upon a lucky Incident that led them out of the mistaken Track into which they were first put. Where Providence does not relieve a _Genius_ from this Error in setting out, the Man must be kept under the Hatches all his Days.

There are very different Manners of Writing, and each of them just and agreeable in their Kind, when Nature is followed, and a Man endeavours Perfection in that Style and Manner which suits his own Humour and Abilities. Some please, and indeed excel in a Mediocrity, [L]who quite lose themselves if they attempt the Sublime. Some succeed to a wonder in the Account of all Readers whilst they confine themselves to close Reasoning; who, if they are so ill advise'd, as to meddle with Wit; only make themselves the Jest. [M]That is easy and agreeable which is natural; what is forc'd, will appear distorted and give Disgust.

[L] _Dum vitat humum, nubes et inania captet_. Horat.

[M] _Ingenio, sicut in Agro, quanquam alia diu Serantur atque elaborentur, gratiora tamen quae suâ sponte nascuntur_. Tacit. de Orator, c. 6.

It is of fatal Consequence to a good _Genius_ to grasp at too much. "A certain Magistrate (says _Bruyere_) arriving, by his Merit, to the first Dignities of the Gown, thought himself qualified for every Thing. He printed a Treatise of Morality, and published himself a Coxcomb." Universal _Genij_ and universal Scholars are generally excellent at nothing. He is certainly the wisest Man, who endeavours to be perfectly furnished for some Business, and regards other Matters as no more than his Amusement.

A _Genius_ being thus observed, humoured and cultivated, is to be kept in Heart, and upon proper Occasions to be exerted. Without this, it may sink and be lost. All Habits are weakened by Disuse. And Men who are furnished with a _Genius_, for publick Usefulness, should put themselves forward; I mean, with due Modesty and Prudence, and not suffer their Talents to be hid, when a fair Opportunity offers to do Service with them. Indeed it is too common an Unhappiness for Men to be so placed, as to have no Opportunity and Advantage for shewing their _Genius_. As Matters are generally managed in the World, Men are for the most part staked down to such Business, in such Alliances, or in such Circumstances, that they have no proper Occasions of exerting themselves; but instead of that, are continually tugging and striving with things that are cross and ungrateful to them. And that must be a strong Mind indeed, that shall break through the Censures and Opposition of the World, and dare to quit a Station, for which a Man has been brought up, and in which he has acted for some Time, that he may get into another Sphere, where he sees he can act according to the Impulses of his _Genius_. Tho' such as have had the Courage and Skill to follow those Impulses, till they have gain'd the Stations which suited their Taste and Inclination, have seldom fail'd of appearing considerable. But Multitudes, by this Situation of Affairs, have been forc'd, in a manner, to stifle a _Genius_, because they could have no fair Opportunity of exerting it.

A crazy Constitution, and a Body liable to continual Disorders, call off the Attention of many a great Mind, from what might otherwise procure very great Reputation and Regard. Their _Genius_ no sooner begins a little to exert itself, but the Spirits flag, and one unhappy Ail or other, enfeebles and discourages the Mind.

Lust and Wine mightily obstruct all Attempts that require Application; and will neither allow a Man duly to furnish his Mind, nor rightly to use that Furniture he has. An Intrigue or a Bottle may sometimes give an Opportunity for a Man to shew his _Genius_, but will utterly spoil all regular and reputable Exertings of it. He who would put forth his _Genius_ to the Advantage of Himself or the World, should give into no Pleasures that will enervate or dissolve his Mind. He must keep it bent for Business, or he will bring all Business to nothing.

Conceit and Affectation on one hand, and Peevishness and Perverseness of Temper on the other, will lay the best _Genius_ under great Disadvantages, and raise such Dislike and Opposition, as will bear it down in spite of all its Force and Furniture. A graceful Mixture of Boldness and Modesty, with a Smoothness and Benignity of Temper, will much better make a Man's Way into the World, and procure him the Opportunity of exerting his _Genius_.

But there is nothing lies as an heavier Weight upon a Man, or hinders Him more from shewing Himself to Advantage, and employing his great Abilities for the Service of Others; than the Quarrels and Contentions of Parties. Many have their Talents imprison'd, by being of the hated and sinking Side. Their Light is wholly smother'd and suppress'd, that it may not shine out with a Lustre on the Party to which they belong, whether it be in Politicks or Religion. And all Struggles of a _Genius_ are vain, when a Man is born down at once by Clamour and Power.

This is very discouraging to a Man who has taken much Pains in cultivating his _Genius_; and many have, without doubt, been tempted wholly to neglect themselves, from the Dread of these Discouragements. I own this Neglect is not to be excused altogether, though it grieves one that there should be any Occasion given for it. There is still Room for Men to follow and improve a _Genius_, and hope by it to benefit Mankind, and procure Regard to Themselves. And it is hard to say, what Way of exerting it will turn most to Account. Peculiar Honours are due to those who appear to Advantage in the _Pulpit_. Numerous Applauses and Preferments attend those who acquit themselves well at the _Bar_. There is a great deal of Renown to those who are eminent in the _Senate_. There are high Advantages to such as excel in _Counsel_ and on _Embassies_. Immortal Lawrels will crown such as are brave, expert and victorious in _Arms_. There are the Blessings of Wealth and Plenty to those who manage well their _Trades_ and _Merchandize_. The Names of the skilful _Architect_, the cunning _Artificer_, the fine, exact and well devising _Painter_, are sometimes enrolled in the Lists of Fame. The learned, experienced and successful _Physician_, may become as considerable for Repute and Estate, as one of any other Profession. _Musick_ also may have its _Masters_, who shall be had in lasting Esteem. The _Poets_ Performances may be [N]more durable than Brass, and long lived as Time it Self. Every _Science_ may have Professors that shall shine in the learned World. With all the Discouragements that may damp a _Genius_, there is yet a wide Field for it to exert it self, and Room to hope it will not be in vain.

[N] Exegi monumentum aere perennius Regalique situ pyramidum altius, Quod non imber edax, non Aquilo impotens Possit diruere aut innumerabilis Annorum series et fuga temporum:

Horat

I was going to add something of exerting one's _Genius_ as an _Author_. But I found, it would fill up too much Room in my Paper, should I enlarge on the several Ways of Mens appearing considerable. And I was so apprehensive of the Reputation, which the Divine, the Historian, the Critick, the Philosopher, and almost all the other Authors, have above us _Essay-Writers_, that I thought I should but lessen the Regards to my own _Genius_, should I have set to View the Advantages of Others. It will sufficiently gratify my Ambition as an Author, if the World will be so good natured as to think I have handsomely excus'd my self; that I am tolerably fitted, in the Way in I am, to give Entertainment to my Readers, and do them some Service.

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FINIS

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ERRATA [Transcriber's Note: Not readable]

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THE

CREATION.

A

Pindaric Illustration OF A

POEM,

Originally written by

MOSES,

On That SUBJECT.

WITH A

PREFACE to Mr. POPE,

CONCERNING

The Sublimity of the Ancient HEBREW POETRY, and a material and obvious Defect in the ENGLISH.

_LONDON_:

Printed for T. BICKERTON, at the _Crown_ in _Pater-noster-Row._

M. DCC. XX.

Price One Shilling.

_PREFACE to MR. POPE_

Sir,

About two Years ago, upon a slight Misapprehension of some Expressions of yours, which my Resentment, or perhaps my Pride, interpreted to the Disadvantage of a Poetical Trifle, I had then newly publish'd, I suffer'd myself to be unreasonably transported, so far, as to inscribe you an angry, and inconsiderate Preface; without previous Examination into the Justness of my Proceeding. I have lately had the Mortification to learn from your own Hand that you were entirely guiltless of the fact charg'd upon you; so that, in attempting to retaliate a suppos'd Injury, I have done a real Injustice.

The only Thing which an honest Man ought to be more asham'd of than his faults, is a Reluctance against confessing them. I have already acknowledg'd mine to yourself: But no publick Guilt is well aton'd, by a private Satisfaction; I therefore send you a Duplicate of my Letter, by way of the World, that all, who remember my Offence, may also witness my Repentance.

Sir,

I am under the greatest Confusion I ever felt in my Life, to find by your Letter, that I have been guilty of a Crime, which I can never forgive Myself, were it for no other Reason, than that You have forgiven it. I might have learnt from your Writings the Extent of your Soul, and shou'd have concluded it impossible for the Author of those elevated Sentiments, to sink beneath them in his Practice.

You are generously moderate, when you mitigate my Guilt, and miscall it a Credulity; 'twas a passionate, and most unjustifiable Levity, and must still have remain'd unpardonable, whatever Truth might have been found in its mistaken Occasion.

What stings me most, in my Reflection on this Folly, is, that I know not how to atone it; I will endeavour it, however; being always asham'd, when I have attempted to revenge an Injury, but never more proud, than when I have begg'd pardon for an Error.

If you needed an Inducement to the strengthening your Forgiveness, you might gather it from these two Considerations; First, The Crime was almost a Sin against Conviction; for though not happy enough to know you personally, your Mind had been my intimate Acquaintance, and regarded with a kind of partial Tenderness, that made it little less than Miracle, that I attempted to offend you. A sudden Warmth, to which, by Nature, I am much too liable, transported me to a Condition, I shall best describe in Shakespear's Sense, somewhere or other.

Blind in th' obscuring Mist of heedless Rage, I've rashly shot my Arrows o'er a House, And hurt my Brother....

A Second Consideration is, the Occasion you have gather'd to punish my Injustice, with more than double Sharpness, by your Manner of receiving it. The Armour of your Mind is temper'd so divinely, that my mere Human Weapons have not only fail'd to pierce, but broke to pieces in rebounding. You meet Assaults, like some expert Arabian, who, declining any Use of his own Javelin, arrests those which come against him, in the Fierceness of their Motion, and overcomes his Enemies, by detaining their own Weapons. 'Tis a noble Triumph you now exercise, by the Superiority of your Nature; and while I see you looking down upon the Distance of my Frailty, I am forc'd to own a Glory, which I envy you; and am quite asham'd of the poor Figure I am making, in the bottom of the Prospect. I feel, I am sure, Remorse, enough to satisfy you for the Wrong, but to express it, wou'd, I think, exceed even your own Power.

Yours, whose sweet Songs can rival Orpheu's Strain, And force the wondring Woods to dance again, Make moving Mountains hear your pow'rful Call, And headlong Streams hang list'ning in their Fall.

No Words can be worthy to come after these; I will therefore hasten to tell you, that I am, and will ever be, with the greatest Truth and Respect,

SIR,

Your Most Humble,

and Most Obedient Servant,

A. Hill.

I have now attempted, as far as I am able, to throw off a Weight, which my Mind has been uneasy under. I cannot say, in the City Phrase, that I have balanc'd the Account, but you must admit of Composition, where full Payment is impossible. I shall be so far from regretting you the old Benefit of Lex talionis, that I forgive you heartily, beforehand, for any thing you may hereafter think fit to say, or do, to my Disadvantage; nay, the Pleasure I enjoy by reflecting on your good Nature, will degenerate to a Pain, if one Accident or other, in the Course of your Life, does not favour me with some Occasion of advancing your Interest.

Having said thus much to you, in your Quality of a Good Man, I will proceed to address you, in your other Quality, of a Great Poet; in which Light I look up to you with extraordinary Comfort, as to a new Constellation breaking out upon our World, with equal Heat, and Brightness, and cross-spangling, as it were, the whole Heaven of Wit with your milky way of Genius.

You cou'd never have been born at a Time, which more wanted the Influence of your Example: All the Fire you bring with you, and the Judgment you are acquiring, in the Course of your Journey, will be put to their full stress, to support and rebuild the sinking Honours of Poetry.

It was a Custom, which prevail'd generally among the Ancients, to impute Celestial Descent to their Heroes; The Vanity, methinks, might have been pardonable, and rational, if apply'd to an Art; since Arts, when they are at once delightful and profitable, as you will certainly leave Poetry, have one real Mark of Divinity, they become, in some measure, immortal. And as the oldest, and, I think, the sublimest Poem in the World, is of Hebrew Original, and was made immediately after passing the Red-Sea, at a Time, when the Author had neither Leisure, nor Possibility, to invent a new Art: It must therefore be undeniable, either that the Hebrews brought Poetry out of Egypt, or that Moses receiv'd it from God, by immediate Inspiration. This last, being what a Poet should be fondest of believing, I wou'd fain suppose it probable, that God, who was pleas'd to instruct Moses with what Ceremony he wou'd be worship'd, taught him also a Mode of Thinking, and expressing Thought, unprophan'd by vulgar Use, and peculiar to that Worship. God then taught Poetry first to the Hebrews, and the Hebrews to Mankind in general.

But, however this may have been, there is, apparently, a divine Spirit, glowing forcibly in the Hebrew Poetry, a kind of terrible Simplicity; a magnificent Plainness! which is commonly lost, in Paraphrase, by our mistaken Endeavours after heightening the Sentiments, by a figurative Expression; This is very ill Judg'd: The little Ornaments of Rhetorick might serve, fortunately enough, to swell out the Leanness of some modern Compositions; but to shadow over the Lustre of a divine Hebrew Thought, by an Affectation of enliv'ning it, is to paint upon a Diamond, and call it an Ornament.

It is a surprizing Reflection, that these noble Hebrew Poets shou'd have written with such admirable Vigour three Thousand Years ago; and that, instead of improving, we should affect to despise them; as if, to write smoothly, and without the Spirit of Imagery, were the true Art of Poetry, because the only Art we practise. It puts me in Mind of the famous Roman Lady, who suppos'd, that Men had, naturally, stinking Breaths, because she had been us'd to it, in her Husband.

The most obvious Defect in our Poetry, and I think the greatest it is liable to, is, that we study Form, and neglect Matter. We are often very flowing, and under a full Sail of Words, while we leave our Sense fast aground, as too weighty to float on Frothiness; We run on, upon false Scents, like a Spaniel, that starts away at Random after a Stone, which is kept back in the Hand, though It seem'd to fly before him. To speak with Freedom on this Subject, is a Task of more Danger than Honour; for few Minds have real Greatness enough to consider a Detection of their Errors, as a Warning to their Conduct, and an Advantage to their Fame; But no discerning Judgment will consider it as ill Nature, in one Writer, to mark the Faults of another. A general Practice of that Kind wou'd be the highest Service to poetry. No Disease can be cur'd, till its Nature is examin'd; and the first likely Step towards correcting our Errors, is resolving to learn impartially, that we have Errors to be corrected.

I will, therefore, with much Freedom, but no manner of Malice, remark an Instance or two, from no mean Writers, to prove, that our Poetry has been degenerating apace into mere Sound, or Harmony; nor ought This to be consider'd as an invidious Attempt, since whatever Pains we take, about polishing our Numbers, where we raise not our Meaning, are as impertinently bestowed, as the Labour wou'd be, of setting a broken Leg after the Soul has left the Body. The Gunners have a Custom, when a Ball is too little for the Bore of their Canon, to wrap Towe about it, till it fills the Mouth of the Piece; after which, it is discharg'd, with a Thunder, proportionable to the Size of the Gun; But its Execution at the Mark, will immediately discover, that the Noise of the Discharge was a great deal too big for the Diameter of the Bullet. It is just the same thing with an unsinewy Imagination, sent abroad in sounding Numbers; The Loftiness of the Expression will astonish shallow Readers into a temporary Admiration, and support it, for a while; but the Bounce, however loud, goes no farther than the Ear; The Heart remains unreach'd by the Languor of the Sentiment.

Poetry, the most elevated Exertion of human Wit, is no more than a weak and contemptible Amusement, wanting Energy of Thought, or Propriety of Expression. Yet we may run into Error, by an injudicious Affectation of attaining Perfection, as Men, who are gazing upward, when they shou'd be looking to their Footsteps, stumble frequently against Posts, while they have the Sun in Contemplation.

In attempting, for Example, to modernize so lofty an Ode as the 104th Psalm, the Choice of Metaphors shou'd, methinks, have been considered, as one of the most remarkable Difficulties. There seems to have been a Necessity, that they shou'd be noble, as well as natural; and yet, if too much rais'd, they wou'd endanger an Extinction of the Charms, which they were design'd to illustrate. That powerful Imagination of 'the Sea, climbing over the Mountains Tops, and rushing back, upon the Plains, at the Voice of God's Thunder,' ought certainly to have been express'd with as much Plainness as possible: And, to demonstrate how ill the contrary Measure has succeeded, one need only observe how it looks in Mr. Trapp's Metaphorical Refinement.

"The Ebbing Deluge did its Troops recal, Drew off its Forces, and disclos'd the Ball, They, at th' Eternal's Signal march'd away."

Who does not discern, in this Place, what an Injury is done to the original Image, by the military Metaphor? Recalling the 'Troops' of a Deluge, 'Drawing off its Forces'; and its 'Marching away, at a Signal,' carry not only a visible Impropriety of Thought, but are infinitely below the Majesty of That God, who is so dreadfully represented thundering his Commands to the Ocean; They are directly the Reverse of that terrible Confusion, and overwhelming Uproar of Motion, which the Sea, in the Original, is suppos'd to fall into. The March of an Army is pleasing, orderly, slow; The Inundation of a Sea, from the Tops of the Mountains, frightful, wild and tumultuous; Every Justness and Grace of the original Conception is destroyed by the Metaphor.