A Defence of Poesie and Poems
suffered, this or that:” thus far Aristotle. {35} Which reason of his,
as all his, is most full of reason. For, indeed, if the question were,
whether it were better to have a particular act truly or falsely set
down? there is no doubt which is to be chosen, no more than whether you
had rather have Vespasian’s picture right as he was, or, at the painter’s
pleasure, nothing resembling? But if the question be, for your own use
and learning, whether it be better to have it set down as it should be,
or as it was? then, certainly, is more doctrinable the feigned Cyrus in
Xenophon, than the true Cyrus in Justin; {36} and the feigned Æneas in
Virgil, than the right Æneas in Dares Phrygius; {37} as to a lady that
desired to fashion her countenance to the best grace, a painter should
more benefit her, to portrait a most sweet face, writing Canidia upon it,
than to paint Canidia as she was, who, Horace sweareth, was full
ill-favoured. If the poet do his part aright, he will show you in
Tantalus, Atreus, and such like, nothing that is not to be shunned; in
Cyrus, Æneas, Ulysses, each thing to be followed; where the historian,
bound to tell things as things were, cannot be liberal, without he will
be poetical, of a perfect pattern; but, as in Alexander, or Scipio
himself, show doings, some to be liked, some to be misliked; and then how
will you discern what to follow, but by your own discretion, which you
had, without reading Q. Curtius? {38} And whereas, a man may say, though
in universal consideration of doctrine, the poet prevaileth, yet that the
history, in his saying such a thing was done, doth warrant a man more in
that he shall follow; the answer is manifest: that if he stand upon that
_was_, as if he should argue, because it rained yesterday therefore it
should rain to-day; then, indeed, hath it some advantage to a gross
conceit. But if he know an example only enforms a conjectured
likelihood, and so go by reason, the poet doth so far exceed him, as he
is to frame his example to that which is most reasonable, be it in
warlike, politic, or private matters; where the historian in his bare
_was_ hath many times that which we call fortune to overrule the best
wisdom. Many times he must tell events whereof he can yield no cause; or
if he do, it must be poetically.
For, that a feigned example bath as much force to teach as a true example
(for as for to move, it is clear, since the feigned may be tuned to the
highest key of passion), let us take one example wherein an historian and
a poet did concur. Herodotus and Justin do both testify, that Zopyrus,
King Darius’s faithful servant, seeing his master long resisted by the
rebellious Babylonians, feigned himself in extreme disgrace of his King;
for verifying of which he caused his own nose and ears to be cut off, and
so flying to the Babylonians, was received; and, for his known valour, so
far credited, that he did find means to deliver them over to Darius.
Much-like matters doth Livy record of Tarquinius and his son. Xenophon
excellently feigned such another stratagem, performed by Abradatus in
Cyrus’s behalf. Now would I fain know, if occasion be presented unto you
to serve your prince by such an honest dissimulation, why do you not as
well learn it of Xenophon’s fiction as of the other’s verity? and, truly,
so much the better, as you shall save your nose by the bargain; for
Abradatus did not counterfeit so far. So, then, the best of the
historians is subject to the poet; for, whatsoever action or faction,
whatsoever counsel, policy, or war stratagem the historian is bound to
recite, that may the poet, if he list, with his imitation, make his own,
beautifying it both for farther teaching, and more delighting, as it
please him: having all, from Dante’s heaven to his hell, under the
authority of his pen. Which if I be asked, What poets have done so? as I
might well name some, so yet, say I, and say again, I speak of the art,
and not of the artificer.
Now, to that which commonly is attributed to the praise of history, in
respect of the notable learning which is got by marking the success, as
though therein a man should see virtue exalted, and vice punished: truly,
that commendation is peculiar to poetry, and far off from history; for,
indeed, poetry ever sets virtue so out in her best colours, making
fortune her well-waiting handmaid, that one must needs be enamoured of
her. Well may you see Ulysses in a storm, and in other hard plights; but
they are but exercises of patience and magnanimity, to make them shine
the more in the near following prosperity. And, on the contrary part, if
evil men come to the stage, they ever go out (as the tragedy writer
answered to one that misliked the show of such persons) so manacled, as
they little animate folks to follow them. But history being captive to
the truth of a foolish world, in many times a terror from well-doing, and
an encouragement to unbridled wickedness. For see we not valiant
Miltiades rot in his fetters? the just Phocion and the accomplished
Socrates put to death like traitors? the cruel Severus live prosperously?
the excellent Severus miserably murdered? Sylla and Marius dying in
their beds? Pompey and Cicero slain then when they would have thought
exile a happiness? See we not virtuous Cato driven to kill himself, and
rebel Cæsar so advanced, that his name yet, after sixteen hundred years,
lasteth in the highest honour? And mark but even Cæsar’s own words of
the forenamed Sylla, (who in that only did honestly, to put down his
dishonest tyranny), “literas nescivit:” as if want of learning caused him
to do well. He meant it not by poetry, which, not content with earthly
plagues, deviseth new punishment in hell for tyrants: nor yet by
philosophy, which teacheth “occidentes esse:” but, no doubt, by skill in
history; for that, indeed, can afford you Cypselus, Periander, Phalaris,
Dionysius, and I know not how many more of the same kennel, that speed
well enough in their abominable injustice of usurpation.
I conclude, therefore, that he excelleth history, not only in furnishing
the mind with knowledge, but in setting it forward to that which deserves
to be called and accounted good: which setting forward, and moving to
well-doing, indeed, setteth the laurel crowns upon the poets as
victorious; not only of the historian, but over the philosopher,
howsoever, in teaching, it may be questionable. For suppose it be
granted, that which I suppose, with great reason, may be denied, that the
philosopher, in respect of his methodical proceeding, teach more
perfectly than the poet, yet do I think, that no man is so much
φιλοφιλόσοφος, as to compare the philosopher in moving with the poet.
And that moving is of a higher degree than teaching, it may by this
appear, that it is well nigh both the cause and effect of teaching; for
who will be taught, if he be not moved with desire to be taught? And
what so much good doth that teaching bring forth (I speak still of moral
doctrine) as that it moveth one to do that which it doth teach. For, as
Aristotle saith, it is not γνῶσις but πράξις {39} must be the fruit: and
how πράξις can be, without being moved to practise, it is no hard matter
to consider. The philosopher showeth you the way, he informeth you of
the particularities, as well of the tediousness of the way and of the
pleasant lodging you shall have when your journey is ended, as of the
many by-turnings that may divert you from your way; but this is to no
man, but to him that will read him, and read him with attentive, studious
painfulness; which constant desire whosoever hath in him, hath already
passed half the hardness of the way, and therefore is beholden to the
philosopher but for the other half. Nay, truly, learned men have
learnedly thought, that where once reason hath so much over-mastered
passion, as that the mind hath a free desire to do well, the inward light
each mind hath in itself is as good as a philosopher’s book: since in
nature we know it is well to do well, and what is well and what is evil,
although not in the words of art which philosophers bestow upon us; for
out of natural conceit the philosophers drew it; but to be moved to do
that which we know, or to be moved with desire to know, “hoc opus, hic
labor est.”
Now, {40} therein, of all sciences (I speak still of human and according
to the human conceit), is our poet the monarch. For he doth not only
show the way, but giveth so sweet a prospect into the way, as will entice
any man to enter into it; nay, he doth, as if your journey should lie
through a fair vineyard, at the very first give you a cluster of grapes,
that full of that taste you may long to pass farther. He beginneth not
with obscure definitions, which must blur the margin with
interpretations, and load the memory with doubtfulness, but he cometh to
you with words set in delightful proportion, either accompanied with, or
prepared for, the well-enchanting skill of music; and with a tale,
forsooth, he cometh unto you with a tale which holdeth children from
play, and old men from the chimney-corner; {41} and, pretending no more,
doth intend the winning of the mind from wickedness to virtue; even as
the child is often brought to take most wholesome things, by hiding them
in such other as have a pleasant taste; which, if one should begin to
tell them the nature of the aloes or rhubarbarum they should receive,
would sooner take their physic at their ears than at their mouth; so it
is in men (most of them are childish in the best things, till they be
cradled in their graves); glad they will be to hear the tales of
Hercules, Achilles, Cyrus, Æneas; and hearing them, must needs hear the
right description of wisdom, valour, and justice; which, if they had been
barely (that is to say, philosophically) set out, they would swear they
be brought to school again. That imitation whereof poetry is, hath the
most conveniency to nature of all other; insomuch that, as Aristotle
saith, those things which in themselves are horrible, as cruel battles,
unnatural monsters, are made, in poetical imitation, delightful. Truly,
I have known men, that even with reading Amadis de Gaule, which, God
knoweth, wanteth much of a perfect poesy, have found their hearts moved
to the exercise of courtesy, liberality, and especially courage. Who
readeth Æneas carrying old Anchises on his back, that wisheth not it were
his fortune to perform so excellent an act? Whom doth not those words of
Turnus move (the tale of Turnus having planted his image in the
imagination)
“—fugientem hæc terra videbit?
Usque adeone mori miserum est?” {42}
Where the philosophers (as they think) scorn to delight, so much they be
content little to move, saving wrangling whether “virtus” be the chief or
the only good; whether the contemplative or the active life do excel;
which Plato and Boetius well knew; and therefore made mistress Philosophy
very often borrow the masking raiment of poesy. For even those
hard-hearted evil men, who think virtue a school-name, and know no other
good but “indulgere genio,” and therefore despise the austere admonitions
of the philosopher, and feel not the inward reason they stand upon; yet
will be content to be delighted, which is all the good-fellow poet seems
to promise; and so steal to see the form of goodness, which seen, they
cannot but love, ere themselves be aware, as if they took a medicine of
cherries.
Infinite {43} proofs of the strange effects of this poetical invention
might be alleged; only two shall serve, which are so often remembered,
as, I think, all men know them. The one of Menenius Agrippa, who, when
the whole people of Rome had resolutely divided themselves from the
senate, with apparent show of utter ruin, though he were, for that time,