1. CHAPTER I.
A crust for the critics
In our last initial chapter we may be supposed to have treated
that formidable set of men who are called critics with more freedom
than becomes us; since they exact, and indeed generally receive, great
condescension from authors. We shall in this, therefore, give the
reasons of our conduct to this august body; and here we shall,
perhaps, place them in a light in which they have not hitherto been
seen.
This word critic is of Greek derivation, and signifies judgment.
Hence I presume some persons who have not understood the original, and
have seen the English translation of the primitive, have concluded
that it meant judgment in the legal sense, in which it is frequently
used as equivalent to condemnation.
I am rather inclined to be of that opinion, as the greatest number
of critics hath of late years been found amongst the lawyers. Many
of these gentlemen, from despair, perhaps, of ever rising to the bench
in Westminster-hall, have placed themselves on the benches at the
playhouse, where they have exerted their judicial capacity, and have
given judgment, i.e., condemned without mercy.
The gentlemen would, perhaps, be well enough pleased, if we were
to leave them thus compared to one of the most important and
honourable offices in the commonwealth, and, if we intended to apply
to their favour, we would do so; but, as we design to deal very
sincerely and plainly too with them, we must remind them of another
officer of justice of much lower rank; to whom as they not only
pronounce, but execute, their own judgment, they bear likewise some
remote resemblance.
But in reality there is another light, in which these modern critics
may, with great justice and propriety, be seen; and this is that of
a common slanderer. If a person who prys into the characters of
others, with no other design but to discover their faults, and to
publish them to the world, deserves the title of a slanderer of the
reputations of men, why should not a critic, who reads with the same
malevolent view, be as properly stiled the slanderer of the reputation
of books?
Vice hath not, I believe, a more abject slave; society produces
not a more odious vermin; nor can the devil receive a guest more
worthy of him, nor possibly more welcome to him, than a slanderer. The
world, I am afraid, regards not this monster with half the
abhorrence which he deserves; and I am more afraid to assign the
reason of this criminal lenity shown towards him; yet it is certain
that the thief looks innocent in the comparison; nay, the murderer
himself can seldom stand in competition with his guilt: for slander is
a more cruel weapon than a sword, as the wounds which the former gives
are always incurable. One method, indeed, there is of killing, and
that the basest and most execrable of all, which bears an exact
analogy to the vice here disclaimed against, and that is poison: a
means of revenge so base, and yet so horrible, that is was once wisely
distinguished by our laws from all other murders, in the peculiar
severity of the punishment.
Besides the dreadful mischiefs done by slander, and the baseness
of the means by which they are effected, there are other circumstances
that highly aggravate its atrocious quality; for it often proceeds
from no provocation, and seldom promises itself any reward, unless
some black infernal mind may propose a reward in the thoughts of
having procured the ruin and misery of another.
Shakespear hath nobly touched this vice, when he says-
"Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and hath been slave to thousands:
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him,
BUT MAKES ME POOR INDEED."
With all this my good reader will doubtless agree; but much of it
will probably seem too severe, when applied to the slanderer of books.
But let it here be considered that both proceed from the same wicked
disposition of mind, and are alike void of the excuse of temptation.
Nor shall we conclude the injury done this way to be very slight, when
we consider a book as the author's offspring, and indeed as the
child of his brain.
The reader who hath suffered his muse to continue hitherto in a
virgin state can have but a very inadequate idea of this kind of
paternal fondness. To such we may parody the tender exclamation of
Macduff, "Alas! Thou hast written no book." But the author whose
muse hath brought forth will feel the pathetic strain, perhaps will
accompany me with tears (especially if his darling be already no
more), while I mention the uneasiness with which the big muse bears
about her burden, the painful labour with which she produces it, and
lastly, the care, the fondness, with which the tender father nourishes
his favourite, till it be brought to maturity, and produced into the
world.
Nor is there any paternal fondness which seems less to savour of
absolute instinct, and which may so well be reconciled to worldly
wisdom, as this. These children may most truly be called the riches of
their father; and many of them have with true filial piety fed their
parent in his old age: so that not only the affection, but the
interest, of the author may be highly injured by these slanderers,
whose poisonous breath brings his book to an untimely end.
Lastly, the slander of a book is, in truth, the slander of the
author: for, as no one can call another bastard, without calling the
mother a whore, so neither can any one give the names of sad stuff,
horrid nonsense, etc., to a book, without calling the author a
blockhead; which, though in a moral sense it is a preferable
appellation to that of villain, is perhaps rather more injurious to
his worldly interest.
Now, however ludicrous all this may appear to some, others, I
doubt not, will feel and acknowledge the truth of it; nay, may,
perhaps, think I have not treated the subject with decent solemnity;
but surely a man may speak truth with a smiling countenance. In
reality, to depreciate a book maliciously, or even wantonly, is at
least a very ill-natured office; and a morose snarling critic may, I
believe, be suspected to be a bad man.
I will therefore endeavour, in the remaining part of this chapter,
to explain the marks of this character, and to show what criticism I
here intend to obviate: for I can never be understood, unless by the
very persons here meant, to insinuate that there are no proper
judges of writing, or to endeavour to exclude from the commonwealth of
literature any of those noble critics to whose labours the learned
world are so greatly indebted. Such were Aristotle, Horace, and
Longinus, among the antients, Dacier and Bossu among the French, and
some perhaps among us; who have certainly been duly authorized to
execute at least a judicial authority in foro literario.
But without ascertaining all the proper qualifications of a
critic, which I have touched on elsewhere, I think I may very boldly
object to the censures of any one past upon works which he hath not
himself read. Such censurers as these, whether they speak from their
own guess or suspicion, or from the report and opinion of others,
may properly be said to slander the reputation of the book they
condemn.
Such may likewise be suspected of deserving this character, who,
without assigning any particular faults, condemn the whole in
general defamatory terms; such as vile, dull, d--d stuff, etc., and
particularly by the use of the monosyllable low; a word which
becomes the mouth of no critic who is not RIGHT HONOURABLE.
Again, though there may be some faults justly assigned in the
work, yet, if those are not in the most essential parts, or if they
are compensated by greater beauties, it will savour rather of the
malice of a slanderer than of the judgment of a true critic to pass
a severe sentence upon the whole, merely on account of some vicious
part. This is directly contrary to the sentiments of Horace:
Verum ubi plura nitent in carmine, non ego paucis
Offendor maculis, quas aut incuria fudit,
Aut humana parum cavit natura--
But where the beauties, more in number, shine,
I am not angry, when a casual line
(That with some trivial faults unequal flows)
A careless hand or human frailty shows.
-MR FRANCIS.
For, as Martial says, Aliter non fit, avite, liber. No book
can be otherwise composed. All beauty of character, as well as of
countenance, and indeed of everything human, is to be tried in this
manner. Cruel indeed would it be if such a work as this history, which
hath employed some thousands of hours in the composing, should be
liable to be condemned, because some particular chapter, or perhaps
chapters, may be obnoxious to very just and sensible objections. And
yet nothing is more common than the most rigorous sentence upon
books supported by such objections, which, if they were rightly
taken (and that they are not always), do by no means go to the merit
of the whole. In the theatre especially, a single expression which
doth not coincide with the taste of the audience, or with any
individual critic of that audience, is sure to be hissed; and one
scene which should be disapproved would hazard the whole piece. To
write within such severe rules as these is as impossible as to live up
to some splenetic opinions: and if we judge according to the
sentiments of some critics, and of some Christians, no author will
be saved in this world, and no man in the next.