UC-NRLF B M bis ^s^ pumFWMHWTffma P R 3634 B6 1821 MAIN ESE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. ^ vda-iy^>-' \j w V^ -ir-3r-~ ^ y ujl/M/^^ ^'^ v-.-^ *s / (UITI iS TWO LETTERS TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLK LORD BYRON, IN ANSWER TO HIS lordship's letter to **** ******^ Q^ rppjg REV. WM. L. Bowles's strictures on THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF POPE : MORE PARTICULARLY ON THE QUESTION, Whether Poetry be more immediately indebted to what «« SUBLIME or BEAUTIFUL m the Works of Nature, or the Works of Art I .# BY THE REVEREND WM. L. BOWLES. " He that plays at Bowls, must expect rubbers." Old Proverb. " Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque recurret." LONDON: JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE- STREET. 1821. Cfosv *r BATH: PRINTED BY RICHAUD CRUTTWELL, ST. JAMES's-STREET. A D VER riSEMENT. I Trust Lord Byron will excuse me for having made somewhat free with the singular Motto to his book. It is, ** I will play at BoWLS *' luith the Sun and the MooN." — Old Song-. A ** certain Family" had been spoken of in the Quar- lerly Review, as " ringing changes on Nature for two *' thousand years." By a somewhat ludicrous coincidence, it happens that the " arms' of this '^ family^' are, literally, a ''sun and ** moon'' a Sun, OR, and a Moon, ARGENT, secundum ARTEM. •• * ' ' It is, therefore, with this SuN and MooN, that Lord Byron, T have no doubt, jilays at "Bowls/" Not with the Sun and Moon m Nature. In return, I have only ventured to take, as an inscrip- tion to my shield, his Lordship's motto, with a trijling alteration : He that plays at " Bowls" (with the " Sun and Moon") must expect " rubbers ;" Which is only an old " proverb," for part of an old 80NG ! As for any alteration in his heraldic motto, I should not dare to say, Ne crede Byron ; but, I think, in this game, I shall take from his Lordships arms the *• SUPPORTERS;" though I would not, if 1 could, touch the graceful and glittering crest OF HIS HIGH poetical CHARACTER; and long may he wear il uninjured! y'"^^^ LJBji^j^ fuHIVERSITT When T have classed Pope, as a Poet, inferior to Milton and Shakespeare, I must beg to be under- stood, that I do not consider him in the same file with these Poets, nor in any degree to be ranked with them. Some allowance will be made for the circumstances under which this Answer has been brought out; the in- stances being adduced on the spur of the occasion, under the anxiety that the considerate and impartial, before they decide, with Lord Byron, might at least hear alteram partem. It would be important for the reader to keep in mind one plain distinction, in reading what is here offered. Whatever is picturesque is so idiV poetical \ but all that is " poetical," does not require to be " picturesque/'* Lord Byron would never have said, ** What painter does not break the sea with a boat," &c. if he had remembered this distinction. UJsriVEBSiTT LETTER I. MY LORD, HoRNE TooKE, if I remember right, beo-an his well-known letter to Junius, in these words: " Tragedy, Comedy, and Farce, — Junius, " Wilkes, and Foote, — against one poor parson, " are fearful odds." So I might say, Lord Byron, and my two late assailants, — Apollo, Midas, and Punch, — are indeed fearful odds against a country clerk and provincial editor. But to be more courtly, in approaching your Lordship as a controversialist upon any point, I am well aware of the great talents opposed to me. I have just read your Remarks (addressed to a friend) on my Life of Pope, on the Jirst part of my Vindication in the Pamphleteer, and on my principles of Poetical Criticism, B r 2 ] which I had called CJboUshl;^, in your Lordship's opinion) invariable. I thank you, cordially, for this opportunity of explaining my sentiments, which I know you would not intentionally pervert ^ for the flattering terms in which you have spoken of me personally ; and, most of all, for the honourable and open manner in which you have met the questions on which we are at issue. The late contest in which I have been involved, with those of a character so opposite, has tended to make this contrast of urbanity and honourable opposition more gratifying. From you, my Lord, I was certain I should not meet coarse and in- sulting abuse, the foul ribaldry of opprobrious con- tumely, nor the petty chicanery that purposely keeps out of sight one part of an argument, and wilfully misrepresents another. Your opposition, as might become a person of so high a station, and of such distinguished genius, exhibits none of those little arts of literary warfare. Your letter is at once argumentative, manly, good- humoured, and eloquent. I am afraid, that if those whom I have lately encountered might have thought that ** your ** Lordship would decide the contest at once," — in short, ** hit the nail in the head, and Bowles " in the head also/' — they will be somewhat dis- appointed. L 3 J But, be this as it may, I can say, with great truth, that if it be an honour to have such a cha- racter for an opponent, it is a duty incumbent on me to endeavour to shew myself not unworthy, my Lord, of such notice, by meeting your objec tions in the same spirit. Your observations, in answer to what I said of parts of Pope's moral character, may be comprised in few words. It was far from my heart to charge him with a " libertine sort of love," on account of the errors or frailties of youth ? I disdained in the Life of Pope, to make any allusion to Gib- ber's well-known anecdote. It would have been fanatic or hypocritical in me to have done so. When I spoke of his " libertine kind " of love," I alluded to the general tone of his language to Lady Mary, and many of the ladies with whom he corresponded from youth to age. I suppressed, with indignation, the Imitation of Horace, which I believe he wrote — the most obscene and daring piece of profligacy that ever issued from the press, since the days of Charles the Second. I deduced no trait of his character from it, though it was not written when youth and gaiety might, in some measure, have palliated the offence, but when he was forty-two years of age. But though I had no tincture, I hope, in my feelings, of hypocrisy, or fanaticism, I thought it a duty to society to touch on one prominent B 2 L 4. J feature m his character, which shews itself in liis correspondence. As to the omission of the fact of his benevolence to Savage, it was inadvertence, — cidjmbley I confess ; but Johnson, to the best of my recollection, has also passed it over : and if I have spoken of his ** general benevolence," I may be pardoned, I hope, for an omission, which, at all events, was not intentional -, but on which your Lordship's ani- madversion I own to be just. " Should some more sober critic come abroad, *' If wrong, 1 smile; if right, I kiss the rod," Having touched on these points, I advance to meet your Lordship on the ground of those prin- ciples of poetical criticism, by which I adventured to estimate Pope's rank and station in his art. If I cannot prove those principles invulnerable, even w^hen your Lordship assails them ; if I cannot answer all your arguments as plainly and as dis- tinctly as you have adduced them ; the appellation " invariable" I shall instantly discard 5 but saying, — if I fall, it is Oneida dextrd. On the contrary, if meeting any arguments fairly, I turn them against you ; if, without avoiding the full force of any, I rebut them satisfac- torily y I shall have more reason than ever to think those principles invariable, which even Lord Byuon cannot overturn. t 5 ] It is singular that in the latter part of my vindica- tion from the charges of the Quarterly Review, I had quoted your own poetry, my Lord, to prove those very principles which your Lordship's criti- cism is employed to destroy. One thing will give me satisfaction. If you, having descended into this contest, comprehend me, I shall not probably be misrepresented by others. But, as much misrepresentation on the subject has taken place, and some misconceptions, from which I think I shall shew that your Lordship is not exempt ; I shall first place before your Lordship, and the public, my sentiments, as they stand re- corded in the tenth volume of Pope's Works. They are these : I have often quoted them in part, but I find it, in consequence of so many miscon- ceptions, necessary to transcribe the greater part, that my principles may be seen in connection, and under one view. " I presume it will readily be granted, that ' all * images drawn from what is heautijul or sublime in the * works of Nature, are more beautiful and sublime * than any images drawn from Art ;' and that they are therefore, j3er se, more poetical. " In like manner, those PASSIONS of the human heart, which belong to Nature in general, are, per se, more adapted to the higher species of Poetry, than those which are derived from incidental and transient MANNERS. A description of a Forest is more poetical than a description of a cultivated Garden; and the C c ] FassfOfis which are pourtrayed in the Epistle of an Eloisa, render such a poem more poetical, (whatever mio-ht be the difference of merit in point of execution,) intrinsically more poetical, than a poem founded on the characters, incidents, and modes of artificial life ; for instance, the Rape of the Lock. "If this be admitted, the rule by which we would estimate Popb's general poetical character would be obvious. " Let me not, however, be considered as thinking that the subject alone constitutes poetical excellency. The execution^ is to be taken into consideration at the same time; for, with Lord Harvey, we might fall asleep over the " Creation'' of Blackmore, but be alive to the touches of animation and satire in Boileau. The subject, and the execution, therefore, are equally to be considered ; — the one respecting the Poetry, — the other, the art and powers of the Poet. The poetical subject, and the art and talents of the Poet, should always be kept in mind ; and I imagine it is for want of observing this rule, that so much has been said, and so little understood, of the real ground of Pope's cha- racter as a Poet. ** If you say he is not one of the first Poets that England, and the polished literature of a polished iiera can boast, Rectenecne crocos floiesque perambulat Atti Fabula si dubitem, clamant perisse pudorem Cuncti pene paties. * By execution, I mean not only the colours of expression, but the contrast of light and shade, the masterly nianageuienf , the judicious disposition, and, in short, rvery thing that gives, to a great subject, relief, interest, and animation. t 7 ] ** If you say tliat he ^Xdnds poetically pre-eminent, in the highest sense, you must deny the principles of cri- ticism, which I imagine will be acknowledged by all. " In speaking of the poetical subject, and the ^ower* of execution; with regard to the first, Pope cannot be classed among the highest orders of poets ; with regard to the second, none ever was his superior. It is futile to expect to judge of one composition by the rules of another. To say that Pope, in this sense, is not a poet, is to say that a didactic Poem is not a Tragedij, and that ?i Satire is not an Ode. Pope must be judged according to the rank in which he stands, among those whose delineations are taken more from manners than from NATURE. When I say that this is his predominant character, I must be insensible to every thing exquisite in poetry, if I did not except, instanter, the Epistle of Eloisa: but this can only be considered according to its class ; and if I say that it seems to me superior to any other of the kind, to which it might fairly be compared, such as the Epistles of Ovid, Propertius, Tibullus, (I will not mention Drayton, and Pope's numerous subsequent Imitations;) but wi en this transcendent poem is compared with those which will bear the comparison, I shall not be deemed as giving reluctant praise, when I declare my conviction of its being infinitely superior to every thing of the kind, ancient or modern. *' In this poem, therefore, Pope appears on the high ground of the Poet of Nature ; but this certainly is not his general character. In the particular instance of this poem, how distinguished and superior does he stand! It is sufficient that nothing of the kind has ever been produced equal to it, for pathos, painting, and melody." [ 8 3 Before I proceed, it will save myself and your Lordship some trouble, if I request you to re- member, in casting your eye on this portion of the estimate of Pope's poetical character, four material points. 1st. I speak not of Nature generally, but of ima^^-es sublime or beautiful in Nature *, and if your Lordship had only kept this circumstance in recollection, you would have seen, that your plea- sant pictures of " the Hog in the high wind," the footman's livery, the Paddington Canal, and the pigsties, the horse-pond, the slop-basin, or ANY OTHER vossel, all must ^o^r nothing; for 7iatural as these images might be, they are neither ♦* sublime or beautiful ;" and notwithstanding the pleasantry and wit with which they are associated in your Lordship's imagination, " It grieves me mucli, the clerk might say again, " Who WHITES so WELL, should ever write in vain.** 2d. You will observe, that the proposition, ** Images from what is sublime or beautiful in ** Nature, J9^r se,'' ahstractedli/, are connected with what follows, viz. the ** passions which belong to *' Nature" in general, not to Man, as living at one period, but to the human heart in general, to Nature of all ages. 3dly. You will observe, that, in speaking of tlie subject and execution of a poem, I do not I I pass over the eixcutmi ; for otherwise, Black- more woukl be a greater poet than Pope : — and if your Lordship had remembered this point, you would not have supposed I could ever con- sider Fenton, or any other tragedian of the kind, as great a poet as Pope, though Fenton wrote a successful tragedy, and Pope, satires, &c. And, 4thly. You will observe, that, in execution I think no poet was ever superior to Pope ; though your Lordship thinks the ejcecution all, and I do not, for reasons which will be given. I now beg to place before you what follows, requesting you to observe that I most freely admit Pope's unquestioned rank in the pathetic part of poetry, concerning which my concluding remark uvas, — " In the particular instance of this poem, «« how distinguished and superior does he stand. *' It is sufficient that nothing of the kind ever " has been produced, equal to it for pathos, ** painting, and melody 1" To the first part I called Mr. Campbell's parti- cular attention before ; but I am certain many mis- takes would be prevented, if any opposer of ano- ther's opinion would only take the trouble to do him the justice of impartially examining what those opinions are. I therefore think it necessary, before I meet Lord Byron, to shew where his most effective strokes seem to hit the hardest, jmd where they are wasted, not on my theory, but ^ OFTHI- f 10 3 on the winds. I must hope, therefore, the reader will a little flirther follow me. After the word ** melody'* my observations on Pope's poetical character proceed as follow : ** From this exquisite performance, which seems to stand as the boundary between the poetry derived from the great and primary feelings of Nature, and that -derived from Art, to Satire, whose subject wholly con- cerns existing manners, the transition is easy, but the idea painful. Nevertheless, as Pope has chosen to write Satires and Epistles, they must be compared, not as Warton has, I think, injudiciously done with pieces of genuine poetry, but only with things of the same kind. To say that the beginning of one of Pope's Satires \9, not poetical; to say that you cannot find in it, if the words are transposed, the " disjecti membra poetce,** is not criticism. The province of Satire is totally wide ; its career is in artljicial life ; and therefore to say that satire is not poetry, is to say an epigram is not an elegy. PoPE has written satires; that is, confined himself chiefly, as a poet, to those subjects with which, as it has been seen, he was most conversant ; subjects taken from living man, from habits and manners, more than from principles and passions. " The career, therefore, which he opened to himself was in tlie second order in poetry ; but it Avas a line pursued by Horace, Juvenal, Dryden, Boileau; and if in that line he stand the highesty upon these grounds we might fairly say, with JoHNf^ON, * it is * superfluous to ask whether Pope were a poet.* t " 3 " From the poetry, which, while it deals in local manners, exhibits also, as far as the subject would admit, the most exquisite embellishments of fancy, such as the machinery* of the Rape of tbe Lock, we may proceed to those subjects which concern * living man.* " The abstract philosophical view is first presented, as in the Essay on Man. The ground of such a poem is philosophy, not poetry : the poetry is only the colour- ing t if I may say so ; ? id to the colouring the eye is chiefly attentive. We hardly think of the philosophy, whether it be good or bad ; whether it be profound or specious ; whether it evince deep thinking, or exhibit only in new and pompous array the ' babble of the ' Nurse.* Scarcely any one, till a controversy was raised, thought of the doctrines ; but a thousand must have been warmed by the pictures, the addresses, the sublime interspersions of description, and the nice and harmonious precision of every word, and of almost every line. Whether, as a system of philosophy, it inculcated fate or not, no one paused to inquire ; but every eye read a thousand times, and every lip, perhaps, repeated, " Lo the poor Indian!" &c. " The Lamb thy riot," &c. " O Happiness," &c. and many other passages. " All these illustrative and secondary images are painted from the source of genuine poetry; from K^ATURE, not from Art. They therefore, independent of powers displayed in the versification, raise the Essay on Man, considered in the abstract, into genuine * In a note to this poem, the reason is given why Pope's airy spirits are mferior to Shakespeare's. I 12 1 poelnj, although i\\G poetical part is subservient to the philosophical, ** The Moral Essays depart much farther from poetry so defined, as they exhibit particular casts and charac- ters of man, according to different habits of existing society ; that is, of artificial life. Pope, however, apparently leaves habits and man- ners, and reverts to general Nature, when he talks of a passion, ' That like Aaron's serpent, swallows all the rest : ' The RULING passion/ ** There is no reason to suppose that Pope, of the general internal feelings of Nature, could be more ignorant, or less capable of pourtraying them by vivid- ness of expression and colours, than others ; but we must estimate what he has done, not what he might have done. Many, perhaps, may regret with me, that if he disdained, * in Fancy's fields to wander long, * But stoop'd to Truth, and moraliz'd his song;' that he had not at least wandered somewhat loiiger among scenes that were congenial to the feelings of every heart; and that he should leave them for the thorns and briars of ineffectual satire and bitterness ; quitting for these such scenes as ' The paraclete's white walls and silver springs ;' like his great predecessor in poetry, Milton, who left the ' Pastures of Peneus, and the Pines of ^tna,' to write * Tetrachordon,' and to mingle in the malignant puritanical turbulence of the times.* '* AVhen we speak of the poetical character, derived from passions of general Nature, two obvious distinc- * Warton. I 13 J tioiis must occur, without regard to AristotU- :— those which, derived from the passions, may he called pa- t/iefic, and those which, derived from the same source, mav be called sublime, " Of the pathetic, no one (considering- the Epistle of Eloisa alone) has touched the chords so tenderly, so pathetically, and so melodiously. As far as this goes, Pope, therefore, in poetical and musical expression, has 710 competitor. " We will now proceed to consider those passions whieh are equally the subject of genuine poetry, and on which are founded (I do not say Epic or Tragic ex- cellence, for these Pope declined, but) that species of poetic sublimity, which gives life and animation to the Ode. " In this respect, I believe, no one who ever thought of Alexander's Feast, or the Bard of Gray, could for a moment imagine VoviB, pre-eminent. Before these he sinks, as much as any other writer, whose subject was pathetic, sinks before him. His Odes for the Duke of Buckingham, though elegant, are wholly unworthy to be classed as the compositions of a supe- rior Lyric Poet. *' In what has been said, 1 have avoided the intro- dtiction of picturesque description; that is, accurate representations from external objects of Nature : but if the premises laid down in the commencement of these reflections be true, no one can stand pre-eminent as a great descriptive poet,* although he have an eye attentive to, Q,nd familiar luith, every external appear- ance that she may exhibit, in every change of season, * A few passages have been corrected, which were not aocu- |-ately printed before. [ 14 1 evfery variation of light and sliade, every rock, every tree, every leaf, in her solitary places. He who has not an eye to observe these, and who cannot with a glance distinguish every diversity of every hue in her variety of beauties, must so far be deficient in one of the essential qualities of a poet. Here Pope, from infirmities, and from physical causes, was particularly deficient. When he left his own laurel circus at Twickenham, he was lifted into his chariot or his barge ; and with weak eyes, and tottering strength, it is physically impossible he could be a de- sc7'iptive Bard. Where description has been introduced among his poems, as far as his observation could go, he excelled; more could not be expected. In the descriptions of the cloister, the scenes surrounding tlie melancholy convent, as far as could be gained by books, or suggested by imagination, he was eminently suc- cessful ; but even here, perhaps, he only proved that he could not go far : and ' The streams that shine between the hills, * The grots that echo to the tinkling rills,* were possibly transcripts of what he could most easily transcribe, his own views and scenery. But how different, how minute is his description, when he describes what he is master of: for instance, the game of Ombre, in the Rape of the Lock ? This is from artificial life ; and with artificial life, from his infirmities, he must have been chiefly conversant. But if he had been gifted with the same powers of observ- ing outward Nature, I have no doubt he would have evinced as much accuracy in describing the appropriate and peculiar beauties, such as Nature exhibits in the ( 15 1 Forest* where he lived, as he was able to describe, iir a manner so novel, and with colours so vivid, a game of cards. t *' It is for this reason that his Windsor Forest, and his Pastorals, must ever appear so defective to a lover of Nature. " Pope, therefore, wisely left this part of his art, which Thomson, and many other poets since his time, have cultivated with so much more success, and turned to what he calls the * Moral' of the Song.J ** I need not go regularly over his works ; but I think they may be generally divided under the heads I have mentioned \— Pathetic ^ Sublime ^ Descriptive, Moral, and Satirical. ** In the pathetic, poetically considered, he stands highest; in the sublime, he is deficient ; in descriptions from Nature, for reasons given, still more so. He therefore pursued that path in poetry, which was more congenial to his powers, and in which he has shone without a rival. ** We regret that we have little more, truly pathetic, from his pen, than the Epistle of Eloisa, the Elegy to the unfortunate Lady ; and let me not forget one of the sweetest and most melodious of his pathetic effu- sions, the Address to Lord Oxford: ' Such were the notes thy once-lov'd Poet sung." " With the exception of these, and the Prologue to Cato, there are few things in Pope of the order I * Windsor Forest. See Rape of the Lock, description of Ombre. X * But turn 'd to truth, and moraliz'd the song.' [ 16 J have mentioned, to \vhich the recollection recurs with particular tenderness and delight. " When he left these regions, to unite the, most ex- quisite machinery of fancy with the descriptions of artificial life, the Rape of the Lock will, first and last, present itself; — a composition, as Johnson justly ob- serves, the ' most elegant, the most airy,' of all his works ; a composition, to which it will be in vain to compare any thing of the kind. He stands alone, un- rivalled, and possibly never to be rivalled. All Pope's successful labour of correct and musical versification, all his talents of accurate description, though in an inferior province of poetry, are here consummately dis- played ; and as far as artificial life, that is, manners, not passions, are capable of being rendered poetical, they are here rendered so, by the fancy, the propriety, the elegance, and the poetic beauty of the Sylphic machinery. " This ' delightful' poem, as I have said, appears to stand conspicuous and beautiful, in that medium where poetry begins to leave Nature, and appy^oximates to local manner's. The Muse has, indeed, no longer her great characteristic attributes, pathos or sublimity ; but she appears so interesting, that we almost doubt whether the garb of elegant refinement is not as captivating, as the most beautiful appearances of Nature." I have placed before the pubhc, in one point of view, the greater part of what I advanced as the ground-work of my judgment on Pope's poetry ; and I can ask whether they observe any symptoms of detraction or depreciation ? I liave spoken of t 17 ] the sublime, the pathetic, the moral, the satirical, and the descriptive, in poetry ; putting the de* scriptive province last. Now in your letter, my Lord, you have said nothing of the sublime of poetry, as distinguishing the great Poet, whose eminence in his art has led to this discussion; but I affirm, that in the pathetic, as he yields, (and the distance is great,) to Shakespeare, the variety of pathos in Shakes- peare being considered; yet, if we view Pope's poems together, and remark his consummate execu- tion of all he performed, though he is inferior to Milton, and must be so, from the superior gran- deur of Milton's subject, the greater exertion of talents required, " according to the uiiiversal con^ *' sent of the critics,'*' and the equal execution ; yet in one particular branch of his art. Sublimity, he yields to Dryden, as w^ell as to these great poets; and in another particular branch of his art, the accu- rate representation of picturesque imagery from external nature, he yields to Thomson and Cowper. As to sublimity, you will see I have spoken of his Ode, compared with one of Dryden's. Will you venture to say, the Ode for Music by Pope is equal to the Ode for Music by Dryden, Alex- ander's Feast, or that ode spoken of so en- thusiastically by Dr. Johnson? I think you will hardly do this ; and if you do, I believe, my Lord, no critic in England, or Europe, will agree with you. c [ 18 ] I must here make one observation on Dryden's ode on the death of Mrs. Killegrew. Johnson speaks of the first stanza as full of enthusiasm, but his criticism is very unappropriate. I will venture to point out one great cause of its sublimity. Ad- dressing the departed spirit, the poet exclaims, " Whether adopted to some neighbouring star, " Thou roll'st above us in thy vvand'ring race, " Or, in procession fix'd and regular, "MOVEST WITH THE HEAV'ns' MAJESTIC PACE." These are the images from the sublime of nature, v\rhich give this ode its exalted character. I shall quote the first lines. " Thou youngest virgin daughter of the skies, " Made in the last promotion of the blest ; " Whose palms, new-pluck'd from Paradise, " In spreading branches more sublimely rise, " Rich with immortal green above the rest : " Whether adopted to some neighb'ring star, " Thou roll'st above us in thy vvand'ring race, " Or, in procession fix'd and regular, " Movest with the heav'ns' majestic pace; " Or, call'd to more superior bliss, " Thou tread'st with seraphims the vast abyss ; *' Whatever happy region is thy place, " Cease thy celestial song a little space." Now take a stanza of a quite opposite character. " The sylvan scenes of herds and flocks, *' And fruitful plains, and barren rocks; " Of shallow brooks that flow'd so clear " The bottom did the top appear ; " Of deeper, too, and ampler floods, " Which as in mirrors shew'd the woods ; " Of lofty trees, with sacred shades, " And perspectives of pleasant glades, C 19 J brightest fqri " And shaggy satyrs standing near, Where nymphs of brightest fqrm appear, ^ " Which them at once admire and fear. 3 " The ruins too of some majestic place, " Boasting the pow'r of ancient Rome or Greece, *' Whose statues, friezes, columns, broken lie, *' And, though defac'd, the wonder of the eye ; *' What NATURE, ART, boM fiction ere durst frame, " Her forming liand gave feature to the name.'^ The commencement is lofty and majestic, and the execution goes on pari passu with the subject; and the subject is from the most glorious objects of contemplation in Nature. In the other stanza quoted, observe that the lady's art in painting as well as poetry is set before us, and this is done by making the subject of her pictures appear as in the living landscapes of nature : " The shallow brooks that flow'd so clear, &c. " Of deeper, too, and ampler floods. " Which as in ynirrors sheiv'd the 2voods; " The perspectives of pleasant glades, " Where nymphs of brightest form appear, " And shaggy satyrs, &c." Then the picturesque ruins are presented. " The ruins too of some majestic place^ " Boasting the pow'r of ancient Rome or-Greece, *' Whose statues, friezes, cohimns, broken lie, &c/' Dr. Johnson says, " the other stanzas are very " inferior, — inferior indeed :" and why are these su- perior? for this reason, because the highest views of human contemplation are opened in the first stanza, picturesque beauty in the last, and both according to nature, c 2 C 20 J The conclusion of this ode is in the high strain of the beginning; and yet, as objects of artificial life are less poetical than passions which belong to general nature, the mind hardly admits the idea of '* the last promotion," in the first stanza, or the word " assizes,'* relating to the great day of judgment, in the last ; because with the expression "assizes" are associated the ideas of «r^?^daZ life, the "judge's coach," and the javelin men. I will now only request your Lordship to keep in mind what has been laid down : that art is poetical, but nature, in her sublime or beautiful features, with all their kindred associations, inore so ; that art, in its combined appearances, is most poetical, when connected xvith associations or views of na- ture, and always, and under all circumstances, POETICAL, (unless the image be vulgar,) when as- sociated with EMOTIONS and passions of the human heart. These are my premises : and having laid them down such as they cannot but be inferred from my original observations, unless garbled, I come to meet your Lordship on the fair ground of controversy. On the subject of Pope's poetical character we agree. You say he is inferior to Milton and Shakespeare. This is all I asked. But the sub- ject of our present discussion is, I think, at all events interesting. I have received much pleasure r 21 ] from your Lordship's letter; and though I well know your great powers, I feel, after a more vulgar contest, as " breathmg a freer air." The first question is, *' whether images from what *^ is sublime or beautiful in art or nature," be, per se, the most poetical. Upon this first point we join issue, and stand opposed. You have taken this first axiom, which I thought, if well considered, would not be contended, and have, without periphrasis, promptly and pow- erfully opposed it. But remark, this is only the first part of a general proposition, as will be seen by referring to what I have said. The other part will be, perhaps, more clearly explained, as we pro^ ceed. But first of the first. I ^- J LAUNCH OF THE BEAUTIFUL SHIP, CAMPBELL. IT must here be observed, that in answer to tlie first part of my proposition, Mr. Campbell instanced the launch of a ship, as a WORK OF ART, beautifully poetical. My answer, taking his ouii description, was, that the ship so beautifully described by him was more indebted to nature than art. It was indebted to nature for the winds, that filled the sails ; for the sunshine, that touched them with light ; for the waves, on which it so triumphantly rode ; for the associated ideas of the distant regions of the earth it was to visit, the tempests it was to encounter, and for being, as it were, endued with existence, *' a thing of life.'** * An attempt has lately been made to rob your Lordship of much of your orij^inality as a poet. I have seen some extracts from a publication of this kind. Some of the examples are like the description of Monmouth. '' Why is Macedon like "Monmouth? because there is a river in Monmouth, and a •' river in Macedon." I thought of devoting a few hours in shewing; the unfairness of some of these instances ; but I know you would say, " What ! Bowles, defending me ! non " defensoribus istis!" Tlie beautiful image of the " ship," in the CorsRir, " TJial seems to «alL tlit waves— a thing of life !" Launch of the S/ilp, 23 1 think what was said was an answer to Mr. Campbell, and I think so still. What other arguments he might advance I know not. His ship, as described by himself, in my opinion totally failed; and I believe Mr. Campbell saw, upon reflection, that his new-launched ship, and even if it had braved, for a thousand yeai^s, "The BATTLE and the breeze," must have surrendered. which would not be necessary for your Lordship to add, unless an image from nature was more beautiful than any you brought in the description of a ship fi om art : this " living " ship, however, has been traced to Wilson," M'ho has also a "living ship of loveliness/' I forget the words; but if the image is to be taken from your Lordship vi et armis, I may as well make ray demand : for in the poem, which, together with its unfortunate writer, formed part of your Satire, is the fol- lowing description of " a ship" on her way : " The tall ship, " That, like a stately swan, in conscious pride, " Breaks beautiful the rising sarge, and throws " The gather 'd waves back, and seeius to move " A LIVING THING, upon its lucid way, " Streaming in lovely glory to the morn." The idea is the same : I objected to the words " lovely glory ;" but somebody persuaded me to let them stay. But I do not be- lieve that either your Lordship, or Mr, Wilson, borrowed from me ; albeit, though, so to be told, your LordsiL'p might smile. I believe no mind, inclined to poetry, ever saw a ship in full sail, but has felt the propriety of the image. I take this opportunity of thanking your Lordship for remem- bering the little anecdote, which I mentioned merely for the sake of sbev, ing the disadvantage of implicitly relying on the Reviews. Your recollection is better than mine. But the mode in which the circumstance had been commented on, was gratuitously ill-nCitured, for it had nothing ta do with the criticism. v-^'S^SE !. - f OFT (UNivz; Cz ^^. 21 Launch of lite iSlnp, Mr. Campbell declined, at least, further contest \ whether because he would not, or because hethoujiht he could not, is of no consequence. Your Lordship implies that he would not ; I am bold to say he could not ; and I am bolder to say, I think even your Lordship cannot. Under its new, and gallant, and dauntless, and experienced, and noble Captain, the battle is now to be fought again. And though years have made some impression, and different tracks of study have taken me flir away from the scene of such dis- cussions, and even desuetude from such contest be something, and disinclination more; yet, my Lord, " Maugie your youtli, strength, fortune, eminence,'' not unconscious of your powers, but more con- scious of the soundness of my cause, I venture to meet you. Before I examine your arguments, my first object will be to do them 2)erfect justice, to place them in their full force, and not only to do so, but, if I doubt the meaning, to give the substance in my own language, that it may be seen whether I perfectly understand them or not. This, I think, due to every one, whose sentiments I might be called upon to oppose, more especially due to a person like your Lordship ; and if such fairness, or any thing like such Jain less, had been used towards me, I should not have been assailed Launch of the Ship. ^5 hj so many flippant fallacies, so many gross and palpable perversions. The substance of your arguments, detached from thejokeSy I conceive to be as follows. The ship gives as much beautij to the waters as it receives from them. If the sun were taken away, what then? The ship, if I understand your Lordship, would not be seen. If Mr. Bowles's pamphlet was hot read by the light of the sun, it must be read by candle-light ! ! Allow me to sub- stitute for Mr. Bowles's pamphlet Lord Byron's poems. No beauty is added to them by the sun ; for whether they are read by sun-light or candle- light, they are equally beautiful. I have read them by both : But the sun adds beauty to a ship ; therefore this argument, which I think must be written by candk-light, does not hold; for it is as clear as " the sun at noon-day," that " the sun" neither gives nor takes from the beauty of Lord Byron's poems, let them be read where they will ; but it does give beauty, essential beauty, to the ship. 2d. Thousands of people went to see the launch of the ship, who would not look upon the sea, par- ticularly as it was calm, and calm water might be seen in the London Dock, Paddington Canal, a horse-pond, a slop-basin, or in any other vessel! SA. The wind that filled the sails of the ship, might be heard through the chinks of a pigsty j and the sun miglit shine on a brass warming-pan! 26 Launch of the Ship, This, I conceive, my Lord, is the substance of your argument ; which, if it had come from any one but yourself, I should have thought scarcely worth answering: as an argument, the bare state- ment almost confutes it. The least ^fr discussion will shatter it to rags, reduce it to the blue hunfmg of which the streamer of the ship is composed, and I had almost said, make it fit to be consigned to that " other vessel," whatever it be, whTch has ^o face- tiously entered your Lordship's high poetical ima- gination. Allow me first to shew you what you have not done, before I examine what you have done, by way of argument. You have not answered, nor attempted to answer, all the arguments which have been already brought forward on this occasion. Mr. Campbell, in his description of the ship, spoke not only of the eifect of the sun, the seas, and the wind, but added other ideas; its visiting the remote parts of the earth, the tempests it might encounter, and described it, in his poetical vision, *' a thing of life." I said, ** the ideas of its visiting distant regions were ideas from nature, " which conspire to make this sight more interest- *' ing to the poet's thoughts, and therefore more " poeticaL" These you have not touched ; and I am sure, if you had, and could bring no arguments but from Paddiugtou Caual, ^c. my ** fortress" would not Lord Byroiis Slaiemmt. 2? have mucli to fear from your Lordship's somewhat grotesque battery. Whatever motive Mr. Camp- bell had for not defending his own Seventy-four, I think your Lordship, in argument at least, has not succeeded, however delightful your publication may be in other respects. And now, my Lord, to point our guns, to open our fire, and endeavour to blow your pig- sties, ** BRASS WARMING-PANS, and THAT OTHER VES- ** SEL,'* into shatters. But, let me be fair ; let the reader compare what you advance with the substance I have given. " Mr. Bowles asserts, that Campbell's " Ship of the line" derives all its poetry not from ** art J' but from ** nature'^ ** Take away the waves, the winds, the sun, &c, &c. one will become a stripe of blue bunting; and the other a piece of coarse canvas on three tall poles." Very true ; take away the ** waves," the winds," and there will be no ship at all, not only for poetical, but for any other purpose ; and take away ** the sun," and we must read Mr. Bowles's pamphlet by candle-light. But the " poetry" of the *' Ship" does not depend on ** the waves," &c. ; on the contrary, the " Ship of the ** Line" confers its own poetry upon the w^aters, and heightens theirs, I do not deny that the " waves and ** winds," and above all" the sun," are highly poetical; we know it to our cost, by the many descriptions of them in verse : but if the waves bore only the foam upon their bosoms, if the winds wafted only the sea-weed to the shore, if the sun shone neither upon pyramids, nor 28 Lord Byron^s Statement. fleets, nor fortresses, would its beams be equally poetical I I think not: the poetry is at least reciprocal. Take away ** the Ship of the Line" " swinging round" the *'calm water," and the calm water becomes a some- what monotonous thing to look at, particularly if not transparently clear ; witness the thousands who pass by without looking on it all. What was it attracted the thousands to the launch? they might have seen the poetical " calm water" at Wapping, or in the " London Dock," or in the Paddington Canal, or in a horse- pond, or in a slop-basin, or in any other vase. They might have heard the poetical winds howling through the chinks of a pigsty, or the garret window ; they might have seen the sun shining on a footman's livery, or on a brass w arming-pan ; but could the calm water," or the *' wind," or the " sun," make all, or any of these "poetical?" T think not. Mr. Bowles admits " the Ship" to be poetical, but only from those accessaries : now if they confer poetry so as to make one thing poeti- cal, they would make other things poetical ; the more so, as Mr. Bowles calls a " ship of the line" without them, that is to say, its *'masts and sails and streamers," ** blue bunting," and " coarse canvas," and ** tall poles," So they are; and porcelain is clay, and man is dust, and llesh is grass, and yet the two latter atleait are the subjects of much poesy." The commencement, my Lord, is ominous. Mr. Bowles never said, nor is it consistent with the principles he has adopted to say, Mr. Campbell's ship derives all its poetry from na- ture. If tliis misstatement, m j^rinclpio, wasmten- Sea, and Ship. 29 tional, I need not have appealed to you for my character of candour. Mr. Bowles said, and says, '* that poetical beauty in a ship " depends not on art but nature." All its poetry, he instantly admits, it does not derive from nature ; but its poetical beauty depends upon nature ; for the sails would not swell, the streamers would not flow, the motion v/ould cease — its life, which Mr. Campbell speaks of, would be extinct. But you say the poetry of the ship does not depend on the waves, &c. I think it does, for this reason, — that all this beauty, motion, and life, would be at once lost and extinct. True, nor can I for a moment think otherwise ; thus seen, and thus asso- ciated, " the ship confers its own poetry upon the " waters, and heightens theirs," but not before the elements of nature have enabled it to do so; and, therefore, its primary poetical beauty depends on nature, not art. You say, take away the winds and waves, and there will be no ship at all! Then its very ea^ist- ence depends on them ! And '' take away the sun, " and you must read Mr. Bowles's pampWet by " candle-light." Read it how or when you will, the sun will be more poetical than a candle ; and the seas, that *' speak in the east and the west " AT ONCE," will not depend on the ship for poeti- cal sublimity, (but the ship will on them,) any more than the sun will depend upon Lord Byron's 30 Calm Sea. poetry. And then I ask you, my Lord, this question, (begging you to remember my principles only re- quire that the works of nature, which are beautiful and sublime, are more poetical, ahstractedhj^ than any works of art,) — whether the sun, the waves, and winds are, j)e7^ se, more poetical without the ship, or the ship, per se, without the waves, &c. &c. ? The poetry, therefore, is not reciprocal ; for the ship can give no beauty till the elements of nature, on which its beauty depends, enable it to do so. Then it gives and receives. But, my Lord, you must remember, that when I answered Mr. Camp- bell, (and I do not think either he or your Lord- ship can make my good ship surrender,) he made no distinction at all, but coloured his rich descriptions with all the hues of nature, and then advanced to shew the poetical beauties of art. But the water is calm, and its monotony requires to be broken ; and this " calmness," which is one feature of this mighty element, may be contem- plated at Wapping, in the London Dock, Padding- ton Canal, a horse-pond, or any other vessel! No: for though the water at Wapping, the Lon- don Dock, in the Paddington Canal, a hokse-pond, or any other vessel, be calm, it is 7iot poetical. But your argument is this. " The sea is calm ; the " water in a horse-pond, or any other vessel, " is calm ; tlierefore the calm water in a horse- *' pond is as poetical as the sea!" No, my Lord : Calm. 31 for the sea cannot be made unpoetical, and your great powers cannot make the water in a horse- pond, or any other vessel, poetical : and I will conclude with Cowper's description of the calm sea, whom, however, you call no poet, and whom I think an original, pathetic, and great poet. " Ocean exhibits, fathomless and broad, " Much of the power and majesty of God! " He swathes about the swelling of the deep, " That shines and rests, as infants smile and sleep. " Vast as it is, it answers, as it flows, " The breathings of the lightest air that blows. " Curling and whitening over all the waste, " The rising waves obey the increasing blast.'' But we must stop before the storm comes on, for I wish only to shew how this " rdonotonoiis^^ object can, in its calmest state, and without a single ship, or any accompaniments, be rendered ^oe^ic^/. In fact, it does not seem to me, that your Lord- ship makes distinction between the sea in paint- ing, and the sea in poetry. " The sun is poetical," by your Lordship's admis- sion ; and to our cost, you say, by the many descrip- tions in verse. To which sentence I do not accede, as we possibly might have lost some of your own most beautiful descriptions. But to follow your argument. " If the waves bore only foam upon their bosoms; " if the winds wafted only sea- weed to the shore ; " if the sun shone neither upon pyramids, nor 3^ Sun, Seas, 6^c. " fleets, nor fortresses, would its beams be eqiialli/ ** poetical?" Answer : — The sun would be equally poetical, let it shine on what it may. If the waves bore only foam upon their bosoms, the ocean would be equally sublime, far from every track of vessel, every intrusion of man. The ocean, I affirm, wants not the accessaries of any thing human to make it sublime, and there- fore poetical. It is poetical, though not equally picturesque or beautiful, with or without them. The ideas it excites of Almighty power are those of suhlimitij, the highest poetical sublimity, which proudly rejects any associations or accessaries of human art, or of human kind, to make it more so. " The deep uttereth his voice,^* is one of the most sublime of the many sublime passages relating to it in the scriptures. We have no occasion to make it more poetical to say, "there go the " ships;" but the ship, moving beautiful to the sight, and almost seeming, as it were, a creature of the vast element, and made doubly interesting, as an object of beauty, by those ac- cessaries of nature, without which it is nothing ; a ship so seen adds to the picture of poetical beauty, but 7iot to the more awful ideas of sublimity, which are far more poetical. In sunshine, in calm, in tempest, by night, by day, in its deepest soUiudes, it wants nothing of art to make it syh- Seas, in SolUude, 33 iimCy as speaking every where, " In the east and " in the west," in the north and the south, with one everlasting voice, * Infinitude and Power.* What can be more sublime than this verse of the Psalmist? " If I take the wing of the morn- " ing, and dwell in the uttermost parts of *' the sea, even there shall thy hand lead me." The studies of my profession have carried me to the consideration of all the ancient heresies. The Valentinian Creed proclaims, *' In the be- " ginning was depth, and silence!"* Endless space, and eternal silence ! and these ideas alone are sublime. How directly and glo- riously opposed to this idea is the opening of the gospel of St. John. " In the beginning was " the Word, and the Word was with God, " and the Word was God." And sublime as the former ideas may be, because they are con- nected with terror, the passage from St. John is far more striking ; seeming like an echo to the words, ** And God said. Let there be light: and "there was light!" — a God, and a Creator, and a Saviour, revealed. I hope, as your Lordship, in your pamphlet, pro- fesses so great a regard for ethics, and ethic poetry, in which I most cordially agree, this observation will be excused. These ideas in the Valentinian Creed were personified. D 04 Smishine on the Sea. Tb return: " if the waves bore only foam upon " their bosoms ;" — ** if the winds wafted only sea- ** weed to the shore ;" — " if the sun had neither " pyramids, nor fleets, nor fortresses, to shine " upon ;'* if it shone upon none of the emmets of earth, man, or his little works ; it would be equally a stupendous object, in the visible crea- tion, per se^ abstractedly, and equally sublime ; and it would be poetical, equally poetical, whether it shone on pyramids or posts, fortresses or " pig- ** sties,'* a '* brass warming-pan, or a footman's ** livery," though neither pigsties, or posts, could he sublime or beautiful, with or without it. Pyramids, I repeat, are most poetical from asso- ciations; and fortresses also: but brass warming- pans are images of in-door nature, and footmen's liveries are images of " m^tificiar* life ; and to say, that, because the sun can make one object poetical, it must necessarily make another so, is not an argument worthy of Lord Byron ; and I am afraid we must say of the " sun" shining upon your " warming-pan" and " footman's livery," as of the " hog in a high wind," ** It grieves me much, replied the Clerk again^ " Who speaks so well, should ever speak in vain.*' But how much genuine poetry is condensed in one line, where a ship is spoken of, " Sailing in sunshine, I'AR away !'* Sun, S5 As for the sun on Mr. Campbell's ship, if the ship did not want the sun, to give it more poetical interest, why did Mr. Campbell think it neces- sary to introduce the sun all? " But the ship " ^iveSy as well as it receives ;" so seen, it gives beauty, animating beauty, to the seaSy not to the sun. It gives back, indeed, and amply repays what it re- ceives ; but does a brass warming-p^n give back any poetical beauty ? " The sun shines white upon the rocks !" The sun shines white upon the warming-pan: and so the sun shines on Dr. Syntax's wig ; but try the effect, "Pale on tlie lone tower falls the evening beam/' Pale on my grey wig falls the evening beam. Therefore Mr. Campbell introduced the sun needlessly, if it did not make the ship more poetical ; but though the ship (being itself especially so adorned, as if it came and went Nature's chief favourite and delight among the works of art) gives, as well as it receives, beauty j a footman's livery does not do so, my Lord, any more than an old wig, upon which the sun equally shines, as on the Hellespont, or the crest of Hector. As to seas without a ship, or with a ship upon the STOCKS, I appeal to our friend Crabbe. He is my neighbour ; and though we scarce ever talk of criticism, in his absence I may venture to quote D '2 3C) Crnhbe, a little from a poem of his, as the description bears on the point ; and your Lordship does not, I believe, reckon him among those whom you are pleased to call " naturals." He describes the sea in such a manner as I think might rival the greatest poet that ever lived. He shall give us the sea mthout a ship; and what is more to the purpose, a ship ON THE STOCKS ! " The sea without a ship." " With ceaseless motion comes and goes the tide, " Flowing it fills the channel vast and wide ; " Then back to sea with strong majestic sweep " It rolls, in ebb, yet terrible and deep!" I need not point out to your Lordship the effect of the metre, and the imagery: " Then back to sea with strong majestic sweep '' It rolls." Next we have a little of art. • -■ *' Here samphire banks, and sait-wort bound the flood, " Here stakes," &c. I will leave Crabbe a moment ; and as your Lordship seems to think, (mistaking, it appears to me, the poetical for the picturesque,) that the sea is more poetical Cmore picturesque it certainly k) with ships than without them, I will take an exquisite picture,which you may possibly recognise^ " He that has sail'd upon the dark blue sea, " Has viewM at times,I ween, a full fair sight;' Byron and Dyer, SJ ** When the fresh breeze is fair as breeze may be, " The white sail set, the gallant ffigate tight ; " Masts, spires, and strand retiring to the light, ** The glorious main expanding o*er the bow, '* The convoy spread like wild swans in their flight, " The dullest sailer wearing bravely now, ** So gaily curl the waves before each dashing prow." Childe Harold. I fear your Lordship with your ships will have it hollow; but before 1 go back to Crabbe, to have fair play, I would take another picture from Dyer; which, except your Lordship's, is the finest description in the world. " Now" &c. ** Glide the tall fleet into the widening main, " A floating forest : ev'ry sail unfurl'd, " Swells to the wind — &c. " Meantime in pleasing course the pilot steers, *' Steady, with eye intent upon the steel, " Steady before the winds the pilot steers, *' While gaily o'er the waves the mountain prows '* Dance, like a shoal of dolphins, and begin " To streak with various paths the hoary deep. ** Yet steady o'er the waves they steer, and now " The fluctuating world of waters wide, " In boundless magnitude, around them swell, " O'er whose imaginary brim, nor towns, " Nor woods, nor mountain tops, nor ought appears, *' But Phtebus orb, refulgent lamp of light, " Millions of leagues aloft.'* Hang " Phcebus" and refulgent *' lamp P* But do you not think the latter part of this description ?7zo,s^ poetical, with the boundless seas, and the sun's sole orb, as it would be, if accompanied with the gondolas of Venice, or if the ships were entirely emitted, though not so beautifully picturesque ? 38 Crabbe. The ships, however, are still careiering in the breeze and sunshine, therefore we will return for a moment to Crabbe, to shew some of the infinitude of this said sea's poetical beauties without ships. " Turn to the watery world ! — but who to thee (A wonder yet unview'd j shall paint the Sea ! Various and vast, sublime in all itsfonns, When luU'd by zephyrs, or when rous'd by storms, Its colours changing-, when from clouds and sun, Shades after shades upon the surface run ; Embrown'd and horrid now, and now serene, In limpid blue, and evanescent green ; And oft the foggy banks on ocean lie. Lift the far sail, and cheat the experienc'd eye. Then the broad bosom of the ocean keeps An equal motion, swelling as it sleeps ; Then slowly sinking, curling to the strand. Faint, lazy waves o'ercreep the ridgy sand. Or tap the tarry boat with gentle blow. And back return in silence, smooth and slow. Ships in the calm seem anchor'd, for they glide On the still sea, urg'd solely by the tide : Art thou not present, this calm scene before, Where all beside is pebbly length of shore. And far as eye can reach, it can discern no more .] This, to be sure, is not entirely an ocean view, without boats or ships ; but how exquisitely, how beautifully, is every thing touched ! Can you make Paddington Canal as beautiful or sublime ? Now then for a vessel on the stocks. " Near these a crew amphibious in the docks *' Rear, for the sea, those castles on the stocks: *' See! the long keel, which soon the waves must hide ** See! the strong ribs which form the roomy side, Winds, Pigsty. 39 " Bolts yielding slowly to the sturdiest stroke, " And planks which curve and crackle in the smoke; " Around the whole rise cloudy wreaths, and far ** Bear the warm pungence of o'er-boiling tar." Paint your ship on the stocks how you will, which of these pictures is most sublime or beautiful? In fact, there is not a sight so awful, so sublime, or so terrible, as the ocean. And, therefore, in its infinite shades and appearances, it exhibits in all, indeed, ** Much of the power and majesty of God." It is by itself more poetical, far more poetical, than a ship with it or without it, — ^which is my proposition. And now, my Lord, one word or two about *' THE WIND." *' The thousands that came to see <* the ship launched, the sails streaming in the wind, <* might have heard the wind through the chinks of *^ Si pigsty I'' HuDiBRAs observes, •* As pigs are said to see the wind." Did this thought occur, when your Lordship associated the ** wind*' and the " pigsty" so ingeni- ously and sublimely? True; the thousands who were attracted to see " the launch" might have heard the " winds through a pigsty;" and they certainly did not go to hear the wind, or to see the sea, which, as you justly observe, " thousands pass, ** without looking on it at all." Is it less sublime for that? Of all the thousands who saw the beautiful 40 Wimh. sight of this ship-launch, who among them saw it with the eye, and heart, and feelings of Mr. CAMrBELL ? He has painted it, and in painting it, shewn the eye and heart of a poet ; but the thousands who went to see the sight, would probably have gone to see Katterfelto perform some of hi^ wonders, " Wondering for his bread," as readily as to the launch of this ship, so far as poetical interest excited them. But whether they came or staid at home, whether the ship was launched or not, the sun was not less sublime, tliQugh. beautT/ was added to the waves. .jj,i, . As to the W7'nc?5, independent of their effect on the sails of a ship, they are poetical or not, as their sound is associated in the poet's fancy. When poor Tom sings, " Hark! through the hawthorn blows the cold wind ;" Let us try the effect of a different association, according to your Lordship's ideas, and for the hawthorn add an image from " artificial life.'' " Hark ! through the '' pigsty" blows the cold wind." ,v) Is the wind equally poetical? In fact, my propo* sition is proved, if I may say so, to the right and the left; and before some little ** logic," your ''pigsty," your " garret window,"your '' footman's ♦' livery," your ** brass warming-pan," arc all blown away to the "dcinda. Winds. 41 Much as I admire, my Lord, your talents, I think you must have produced such arguments without reflection ; if you meant me, in any part of that quotation, wherein you pleasantly apply the words, " Quoth he, there was a ship ; ^' Now let me go, thou gr'ey-haired loon^ " Or MY STAFF shall make thee skip:" I answer, though my ** hairs, alas! are grey," your staff has not made me skip an inch. What, if I should almost begin to think, I might make even him who swam over the Hellespont ** skip !" But I fear, if I may be thought to have the least advantage, it is because your Lordship has not looked at the question on all sides; or remem- bered the plain w^ords of my proposition ; otherwise you w^ould not have amused your admirers at my expense with such a hodge-podge of suns, winds, seas, Wapping, London Docks, Paddington Canals, pigsties, garret windows, horse-ponds, slop-basins, and OTHER VESSELS, "footmen's livery,''and "brass /' warming-pans," But it is time to leave the coast of England, fruitful in such homely images, and accompany your Lordship to the [ ^2 ] COAST OF ATTICA— TEMPLE OF THESEUS, &c. *« The beautiful but barren Hymettus, the ** whole coast of Attica, her hills, and mountains, " Pentelicus, Anchesmus, Philopappus, &c. are in ** themselves poetical, and would be so, if the name «* of Athens, of Athenians, and her very ruins, " were swept from the earth." — Lord Byron. " But am I to be told, (you proceed) that the " nature" of Attica would be more poetical without the ART of the Acropolis^ of the Temple of Theseus? of the still all gTeat and glorious monuments of exquisitely artificial skill i Ask the traveller which strikes him most as poe- ticaU the Parthenon, or the hill on which it stands? The columns of Lake Colonna, or the lake itself; the rocks at the foot of it, or the recollection that Falconer^s ship was bulged upon them I There are a thousand rocks and capes more picturesque than those of the Acropolis and Cape Sunium in themselves ; what are they to a thousand scenes in the wilder parts oi Greece, of Asia Minor, Switzerland, or even Cintra in Portugal, or to many scenes of Italy, and the Sierras of Spain ? Coast of AUka, Ruins, ^c. 48 ** But it is the art, the columns, the temples, the wrecked vessel, which give them their antique and their modern poetry, and not the spots themselves ; without them, the spots of earth would be unnoticed and un- known; buried, like Babylon and Nineveh, in indistinct confusion, without poetry, as without existence ; but to whatever spot of earth these ruins were transported, if they were capable of transportation, like the Obelisk, and the Sphinx, and the Memnon's Head, there they would still exist in the perfection of their beauty, and in the pride of their poetry." I here set before the reader the whole of this passage, because it is itself so beautiful. It is worthy Lord Byron, and is as forcible as it is eloquent, and picturesque as it is argumentative. I need not enter into an analysis to shew that I understand it, for I understand it in its full force; and though I have not seen these places but in Lord Byron's interesting pictures, and even in this splendid assemblage I hope I am not so insen- sible, (such a " natural,") as not to feel how poetical and affecting are those scattered columns, those temples, in those spots, where, nescio quomO' do movemur, &c. ; I can at least say, though I have not seen them, animum pictura pascit inanu I might add, nan obtusa adeo gestamus pectora ; and what I feel cannot better be described than in the vivid painting of kindred scenes by a poet whom I have quoted. 44 Coast of Allica, Rifins, ^c\ " Behold the pride of pomp, ** The tlirone of nations fall'n ; obscur'd in dust, " E'en yet majcstical : the solemn scene ** Elatks the soul, while now the rising sun " Flames on the ruins, in the purer air, *' Tow'ring; aloft, upon the g:litl'ring plain, ♦• Like broken rocks, a vast circumference, ♦' Rent PALACES, crusVd columns, ritled moles, " Fanes roll'd on fanes, and tombs on buried tombs. " Deep lies in dust the Theban Obelisk '' Immense along the waste ; minuter art, " Gleconian forms, or Phidian, subtly fair " Q'erwhelming ; as the immense Leviathan, " Outstretch'd, unwieldy, his island length uprears " Above the foamy flood ♦* Grey mould'ring temples swell, and wide overcast " The solitary landscape, hills, and woods, •' And boundless wilds, &.c." Dyer^s Ruins of Rome. With such feelings, and affected by such images so distinctly and beautifully set before us, where nature and art contend in what is most striking and affecting in the imagery of either, I read your animated description. I concede, instanter, that the " nature" of Attica would not be more poetical without the ** art" of the Acropolis, or the Temple of Theseus, or the still great and glorious monuments of her exquisitely artificial genius. I concede this ; but I deny, that, ahstractr edlify as works of art, these works are as sublime, or, therefore, as poetical^ as the sublimest images from nature. Of the rocks on which they stand, 1 know nothing : in sublimity or beauty they may Temple of Theseus. 45 bear as little comparison as a piece of Pentelican marble such as it is in nature, and Pentelican marble formed into an august temple or statue. No one can deny this : but if you take the highest works of art, with all their poetical associations, and compare them with the " spots'* of earth, where Babylon and Nineveh are buried ; the spots as spots, and the ruins as ruins, cannot be com- pared ; but compare the most sublime of the objects of art, either abstractedly, that is, without any poetical associations, or with associations, and I deny the major part of your arguments i?i to to ; or that the sublimest works of art, be they where or what they may, are 7nore sublime than the most sublime of the works of nature. And I again affirm, that what is sublime or beautiful, per se, in the works of nature, comparatis conipara?idis, is more sublime or beautiful than any works of art, and also in their associations, one leading the thought to God, and the other to man : and I answer, if you adduce the Temple of Theseus, give me the Temple of the Universe, not made with hands^ and your temple will be as insignificant as the dust of the marble that composes it. But, without going so far at present, I will ask your Lordship (and no one is a better judge), whom you think the most sublime of all poets, living or dead, — the most sublime, without exception ? Whd!» would Pope call so ? One of those mighty spirits, 46 Homer* whicli has given tliese poetical scenes, with their temples and columns, half their poetical interest. Shall I say Homer ? will you admit this ? Then I ask, if so, how comes it to pass, that the greatest poet the world has produced, wrote before the existence of any arts, at least in such per- fection? Of rapidity and greatness of events, variety of character, wonderful invention, command of passions, and affecting incidents, we are not here speaking. And I must beg you, my Lord, to re- member this, lest I might be told, that I assert that descriptions'of external Nature are those which crive the chief sublimity to the poems of Homer. Further, I say that all the illustrious images you have called up from the august remains of ancient art, are connected with poetical pas* sions; and these passions are the emotions of Nature, from a thousand affecting connections: and I say, putting passions out of the question, that, in description of external Nature, and of the gods themselves, without being indebted to any temples, or statues of them. Homer stands, with the exception of Milton, the sole and mightiest master of his art (of which external nature makes a great part) in the world. Let the temples of art, and the statues of gods, be as beautiful or sublime as they may, how came Homer, in his descriptions, (not of what is natural, his Jack-Ass and Boar similies,) but in the most Homer, 47 beautiful and sublime objects in Nature, — ^tlie 9-iji/a 7ro\vA;' read " iK\i^n,' r ^ OF THE ^^ \ OF ^ Printed by Hichard Cruttweif, St. Jameii'8-Street. Batb. THIS 300K IS nTrr, ^ -ife DUE ON TTT-P T . ^^^^Sr° '^°-.f.„ CENTS 3 ^33 LD 2I-50,„.8 U.C.BERKELEY LIBRARIES CD^s^^^Dss bfd^o '>\v>v.v-;v;v«t;- Ml^WMi^^M: '.'Mi^ife:' ■■•1: S .,'r;u--.j;'.N •.•>