Context
From Peri Bathous
Alexander Pope
The great social satirist Alexander Pope reminds us of at least two things which have practically vanished from the contemporary literary scene: the rhyming couplet (probably a good riddance), and the art Pope perfected in the company of Jonathan Swift and John Dryden, ad hominem satire. The fine art of vilification. Why win by being right when you can win by reducing your opponent to a snotty septum?
CHAP. II
That the Bathos, or Profund, is the natural Taste of Man, and in particular, of the present Age.
THE Taste of the Bathos is implanted by Nature itself in the Soul of Man; ‘till perverted by Custom or Example he is taught, or rather compell’d, to relish the Sublime. Accordingly, we see the unprejudiced Minds of Children delight only in such Productions, and in such Images, as our true modern Writers set before them. I have observ’d how fast the general Taste is returning to this first Simplicity and Innocence; and if the Intent of all Poetry be to divert and instruct, certainly that Kind which diverts and instructs the greatest Number, is to be preferr’d. Let us look round among the Admirers of Poetry, we shall find those who have a Taste of the Sublime to be very few, but the Profound strikes universally, and is adapted to every Capacity. ‘Tis a fruitless Undertaking to write for Men of a nice and foppish Gusto, whom, after all, it is almost impossible to please; and ‘tis still more Chimerical to write for Posterity, of whose Taste we cannot make any judgment, and whose Applause we can never enjoy. It must be confess’d, our wiser Authors have a present End,
Et prodesse volunt, & delectare Poetæ:
Their true Design is Profit or Gain; in order to acquire which, ‘tis necessary to procure Applause, by administring Pleasure to the Reader: From whence it follows demonstrably, that their Productions must be suited to the present Taste; and I cannot but congratulate our Age on this peculiar Felicity, that tho’ we have made indeed great Progress in all other Branches of Luxury, we are not yet debauch’d with any high relish in Poetry, but are in this one Taste, less nice than our Ancestors. If an Art is to be estimated by its Success, I appeal to Experience, whether there have not been, in proportion to their Number, as many starving good Poets, as bad ones?
NEVERTHELESS, in making Gain the principal End of our Art, far be it from me to exclude any great Genius’s of Rank or Fortune from diverting themselves this way. They ought to be praised no less than those Princes, who pass their vacant Hours in some ingenious Mechanical or Manual Art: And to such as these, it would be Ingratitude not to own, that our Art has been often infinitely indebted.
CHAP. III
The Necessity of the Bathos, Physically consider’d.
FARTHERMORE, it were great Cruelty and Injustice, if all such Authors as cannot write in the other Way, were prohibited from writing at all. Against this, I draw an Argument from what seems to me an undoubted Physical Maxim, That Poetry is a natural or morbid Secretion from the Brain. As I would not suddenly stop a Cold in the Head, or dry up my Neighbour’s Issue, I would as little hinder him from necessary Writing. It may be affirm’d with great truth, that there is hardly any human Creature past Childhood, but at one time or other has had some Poetical Evacuation, and no question was much the better for it in his Health; so true is the Saying, Nascimur Poetæ. Therefore is the Desire of Writing properly term’d Pruritus, the Titillation of the Generative Faculty of the Brain; and the Person is said to conceive; Now such as conceive must bring forth. I have known a Man thoughtful, melancholy, and raving for divers days, who forthwith grew wonderfully easy, lightsome and cheerful, upon a Discharge of the peccant Humour, in exceeding purulent Metre. Nor can I question, but abundance of untimely Deaths are occasion’d for want of this laudable Vent of unruly Passions; yea, perhaps, in poor Wretches, (which is very lamentable) for mere Want of Pen, Ink, and Paper! From hence it follows, that a Suppression of the very worst Poetry is of dangerous consequence to the State: We find by Experience, that the same Humours which vent themselves in Summer in Ballads and Sonnets, are condens’d by the Winter’s Cold into Pamphlets and Speeches for and against the Ministry: Nay I know not, but many times a Piece of Poetry may be the most innocent Composition of a Minister himself.
It is therefore manifest that Mediocrity ought to be allow’d, yea indulg’d, to the good Subjects of England. Nor can I conceive how the World has swallow’d the contrary as a Maxim, upon the single Authority of that Horace? Why should the Golden Mean, and Quintessence of allo Virtues, be deem’d so offensive in this Art? Or Coolness or Mediocrity be so amiable a Quality in a Man, and so detestable in a Poet?
However, far be it from me to compare these Writers with those Great Spirits, who are born with a Vivacite de pesanteur, or (as an English Author calls it) an Alacrity of sinking; and who by Strength of Nature alone can excell. All I mean is to evince the Necessity of Rules to these lesser Genius’s, as well as the Usefulness of them to the Greater.
