George Gissing - "In the Year of Jubilee"

Alexander Pushkin - "Krasavitse, Kotoraya Niuhala Tabak"

Ivan Turgenev - "On the Eve"

William Gardner - "The Life of Stephen A. Douglas"

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

Books: English literary criticism

V >> Various >> English literary criticism




The historian scarcely giveth leisure to the moralist, to say so much,
but that he, laden with old mouse-eaten records, authorizing himself
(for the most part) upon other histories, whose greatest authorities
are built upon the notable foundation of hearsay, having much ado to
accord differing writers, and to pick truth out of partiality, better
acquainted with a thousand years ago than with the present age, and
yet better knowing how this world goeth than how his own wit runneth,
curious for antiquities and inquisitive of novelties, a wonder to young
folks, and a tyrant in table-talk, denieth in a great chafe that any
man, for teaching of virtue and virtuous actions, is comparable to
him. I am _Lux vitae_, _Temporum Magistra_, _Vita memoriae_, _Nuncia
vetustatis_, &c.

The philosopher (saith he) teacheth a disputative virtue, but I do an
active: his virtue is excellent in the dangerless academy of Plato,
but mine showeth forth her honourable face in the battles of Marathon,
Pharsalia, Poitiers, and Agincourt. He teacheth virtue by certain
abstract considerations, but I only bid you follow the footing of them
that have gone before you. Old-aged experience goeth beyond the fine-
witted philosopher, but I give the experience of many ages. Lastly,
if he make the songbook, I put the learner's hand to the lute; and if
he be the guide, I am the light.

Then would he allege you innumerable examples, conferring story by
story, how much the wisest senators and princes have been directed by
the credit of history, as Brutus, Alphonsus of Aragon, and who not,
if need be? At length the long line of their disputation maketh a point
in this, that the one giveth the precept, and the other the example.

Now, whom shall we find (sith the question standeth for the highest
form in the school of learning) to be moderator? Truly, as me seemeth,
the poet; and if not a moderator, even the man that ought to carry the
title from them both, and much more from all other serving sciences.
Therefore compare we the poet with the historian and with the moral
philosopher, and, if he go beyond them both, no other human skill can
match him. For as for the divine, with all reverence it is ever to be
excepted, not only for having his scope as far beyond any of these,
as eternity exceedeth a moment, but even for passing each of these in
themselves.

And for the lawyer, though _Jus_ be the daughter of Justice, and Justice
the chief of virtues, yet because he seeketh to make men good, rather
_Formidine poenae_ than _Virtutis amore_ or to say righter, doth not
endeavour to make men good, but that their evil hurt not others: having
no care, so he be a good citizen, how bad a man he be. Therefore, as
our wickedness maketh him necessary, and necessity maketh him
honourable, so is he not in the deepest truth to stand in rank with
these, who all endeavour to take naughtiness away, and plant goodness
even in the secretest cabinet of our souls. And these four are all
that any way deal in that consideration of men's manners, which being
the supreme knowledge, they that best breed it deserve the best
commendation.

The philosopher therefore and the historian are they which would win
the goal: the one by precept, the other by example. But both not having
both, do both halt. For the philosopher, setting down with thorny
argument the bare rule, is so hard of utterance, and so misty to be
conceived, that one that hath no other guide but him shall wade in him
till he be old before he shall find sufficient cause to be honest; for
his knowledge standeth so upon the abstract and general, that happy
is that man who may understand him, and more happy that can apply what
he doth understand.

On the other side, the historian wanting the precept is so tied, not
to what should be, but to what is, to the particular truth of things,
and not to the general reason of things, that his example draweth no
necessary consequence, and therefore a less fruitful doctrine.

Now doth the peerless poet perform both: for whatsoever the philosopher
saith should be done, he giveth a perfect picture of it in some one,
by whom he presupposeth it was done. So as he coupleth the general
notion with the particular example. A perfect picture, I say; for he
yieldeth to the powers of the mind an image of that whereof the
philosopher bestoweth but a wordish description: which doth neither
strike, pierce, nor possess the sight of the soul so much as that other
doth.

For as in outward things, to a man that had never seen an elephant or
a rhinoceros, who should tell him most exquisitely all their shapes,
colour, bigness, and particular marks; or of a gorgeous palace, the
architecture; with declaring the full beauties, might well make the
hearer able to repeat, as it were by rote, all he had heard, yet should
never satisfy his inward conceits, with being witness to itself of a
true lively knowledge: but the same man, as soon as he might see those
beasts well painted, or the house well in model, should straightway
grow without need of any description, to a judicial comprehending of
them: so no doubt the philosopher with his learned definition, be it
of virtue, vices, matters of public policy or private government,
replenisheth the memory with many infallible grounds of wisdom: which,
notwithstanding, lie dark before the imaginative and judging power,
if they be not illuminated or figured forth by the speaking picture
of poesy.

Tully taketh much pains and many times not without poetical helps, to
make us know the force love of our country hath in us. Let us but hear
old Anchises speaking in the midst of Troy's flames, or see Ulysses,
in the fulness of all Calypso's delights, bewail his absence from
barren and beggarly Ithaca. Anger, the Stoics say, was a short madness;
let but Sophocles bring you Ajax on a stage, killing and whipping sheep
and oxen, thinking them the army of Greeks, with their chieftains
Agamemnon and Menelaus, and tell me if you have not a more familiar
insight into anger, than finding in the schoolmen his genus and
difference. See whether wisdom and temperance in Ulysses and Diomedes,
valour in Achilles, friendship in Nisus and Euryalus, even to an
ignorant man, carry not an apparent shining: and contrarily, the remorse
of conscience in Odipus, the soon repenting pride of Agamemnon, the
self-devouring cruelty in his father Atreus, the violence of ambition
in the two Theban brothers, the sour-sweetness of revenge in Medea,
and to fall lower, the Terentian Gnatho and our Chaucer's Pandar, so
expressed, that we now use their names to signify their trades. And
finally, all virtues, vices, and passions so in their own natural seats
laid to the view, that we seem not to hear of them, but clearly to see
through them. But even in the most excellent determination of goodness,
what philosopher's counsel can so readily detect a prince, as the
feigned Cyrus in Xenophon? or a virtuous man in all fortunes, as Aneas
in Virgil? or a whole commonwealth, as the way of Sir Thomas More's
Utopia? I say the way; because where Sir Thomas More erred, it was the
fault of the man and not of the poet; for that way of patterning a
commonwealth was most absolute, though he perchance hath not so
absolutely performed it: for the question is, whether the feigned image
of poesy, or the regular instruction of philosophy, hath the more force
in teaching; wherein if the philosophers have more rightly showed
themselves philosophers than the poets have obtained to the high top
of their profession, as in truth

_Mediocribus esse poetis,
Non Di, non homines, non concessere columna:_

it is I say again, not the fault of the art, but that by few men that
art can be accomplished.

Certainly, even our Saviour Christ could as well have given the moral
commonplaces of uncharitableness and humbleness, as the divine narration
of Dives and Lazarus: or of disobedience and mercy, as that heavenly
discourse of the lost child and the gracious Father; but that his
through-searching wisdom knew the estate of Dives burning in hell, and
of Lazarus being in Abraham's bosom, would more constantly (as it were)
inhabit both the memory and judgment. Truly, for myself, meseems I see
before my eyes the lost child's disdainful prodigality, turned to envy
a swine's dinner: which by the learned divines are thought not
historical acts, but instructing parables. For conclusion, I say the
philosopher teacheth, but he teacheth obscurely, so as the learned
only can understand him: that is to say, he teacheth them that are
already taught, but the poet is the food for the tenderest stomachs,
the poet is indeed the right popular philosopher, whereof Asop's tales
give good proof: whose pretty allegories, stealing under the formal
tales of beasts, make many, more beastly than beasts, begin to hear
the sound of virtue from these dumb speakers.

But now may it be alleged that, if this imagining of matters be so fit
for the imagination, then must the historian needs surpass, who bringeth
you images of true matters, such as indeed were done, and not such as
fantastically or falsely may be suggested to have been done. Truly
Aristotle himself in his discourse of poesy, plainly determineth this
question, saying that poetry is _philosophoteron_ and _spoudaioteron_,
that is to say, it is more philosophical, and more studiously serious,
than history. His reason is, because poesy dealeth with _katholou,_
that is to say, with the universal consideration; and the history with
_kathekaston,_ the particular; now saith he, the universal weighs what
is fit to be said or done, either in likelihood or necessity (which
the poesy considereth in his imposed names), and the particular only
marks, whether Alcibiades did, or suffered, this or that. Thus far
Aristotle: 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 of Xenophon
than the true Cyrus in Justin: and the feigned Aeneas in Virgil, than
the right Aeneas in Dares Phrygius.

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 foul and 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, Aeneas,
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 Quintus Curtius? 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 it hath some advantage to a gross
conceit: but if he know an example only informs 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 poetical; for that a feigned example hath as
much force to teach, as a true example (for as for to move, it is
clear, sith the feigned may be tuned to the highest key of passion),
let us take one example, wherein a poet and a historian do concur.

Herodotus and Justin do both testify that Zopyrus, King Darius' 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 matter doth Livy record of Tarquinius and his son. Xenophon
excellently feigneth such another stratagem, performed by Abradates
in Cyrus' behalf. Now would I fain know, if occasion be presented unto
you, to serve your prince by such an honest dissimulation, why you do
not as well learn it of Xenophon's fiction, as of the others' verity:
and truly so much the better, as you shall save your nose by the
bargain: for Abradates did not counterfeit so far. So then the best
of the historian 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 further teaching, and more
delighting, as it pleaseth him: having all, from Dante his 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, 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 histories,
in respect of the notable learning is gotten 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 setteth 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 of
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
the historian, being captived to the truth of a foolish world, is 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?
[Footnote: Of the two Severi, the earlier, who persecuted the
Christians, was emperor 194-210; the later (Alexander), who favoured
them, 222-235.] Sulla 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 Caesar so
advanced, that his name yet after 1600 years, lasteth in the highest
honour? And mark but even Caesar's own words of the fore-named Sulla,
(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 punishments in hell for tyrants: nor yet by philosophy, which
teacheth _occidendos esse_: but no doubt by skill in history: for that
indeed can afford your Cypselus, Periander, Phalaris, Dionysius, and
I know not how many more of the same kennel, that speed well enough
in their abominable unjustice or usurpation. I conclude therefore that
he excelleth history, not only in furnishing the mind with knowledge,
but in setting it forward, to that which deserveth to be called and
accounted good: which setting forward, and moving to well-doing, indeed
setteth the laurel crown upon the poet 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, doth teach more perfectly than the poet; yet do I think
that no man is so much _philophilosophos_, [Footnote: in love with
philosophy.] 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 the cause and the 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 _Gnosis_ but _Praxis_ [Footnote: not
knowledge but action.] must be the fruit. And how _Praxis_ cannot be,
without being moved to practice, 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, as 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 beholding to the
philosopher but for the other half. Nay truly, learned men have
learnedly thought, that where once reason hath so much overmastered
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;
seeing 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 therein of all sciences (I speak still of human, and according to
the human conceits), 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 first give you a cluster of grapes:
that, full of that taste, you may long to pass further. He beginneth
not with obscure definitions, which must blur the margent with
interpretations, and load the memory with doubtfulness: but he cometh
to you with words sent 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. 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 Aloes or Rhubarb they should receive, would
sooner take their physic at their ears than at their mouth. So it is
in men (most of which 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, and Aneas; 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 Aneas carrying old Anchises on his back, that wisheth not
it were his fortune to perform so excellent an act? Whom do not the
words of Turnus move? (the tale of Turnus having planted his image in
the imagination)--

_Fugientem hoec terra videbit;
Usque adeone mori miserum est?_

Where the philosophers, as they scorn to delight, so must they be
content little to move: saving wrangling, whether virtue be the chief,
or the only good: whether the contemplative, or the active life do
excel: which Plato and Boethius 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 seemeth 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 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) an excellent orator, came
not among them upon trust of figurative speeches, or cunning
insinuations: and much less, with far-fetched maxims of philosophy,
which (especially if they were Platonic [Footnote: Alluding to the
inscription over the door of Plato's Academy: _No entrance here without
Geometry._)], they must have learned geometry before they could well
have conceived: but forsooth he behaves himself, like a homely, and
familiar poet. He telleth them a tale, that there was a time, when all
the parts of the body made a mutinous conspiracy against the belly,
which they thought devoured the fruits of each other's labour; they
concluded they would let so unprofitable a spender starve. In the end,
to be short (for the tale is notorious, and as notorious that it was
a tale), with punishing the belly, they plagued themselves. This,
applied by him, wrought such effect in the people, as I never read
that ever words brought forth but then, so sudden and so good an
alteration; for upon reasonable conditions, a perfect reconcilement
ensued. The other is of Nathan the prophet, who when the holy David
had so far forsaken God, as to confirm adultery with murder: when he
was to do the tenderest office of a friend, in laying his own shame
before his eyes, sent by God to call again so chosen a servant: how
doth he it but by telling of a man, whose beloved lamb was ungratefully
taken from his bosom? the application most divinely true, but the
discourse itself feigned: which made David (I speak of the second and
instrumental cause), as in a glass, to see his own filthiness, as that
heavenly psalm of mercy well testifieth.

By these therefore examples and reasons, I think it may be manifest,
that the poet, with that same hand of delight, doth draw the mind more
effectually than any other art doth; and so a conclusion not unfitly
ensueth: that, as virtue is the most excellent resting-place for all
worldly learning to make his end of, so poetry, being the most familiar
to teach it, and most princely to move towards it, in the most excellent
work is the most excellent workman. But I am content not only to
decipher him by his works (although works in commendation or dispraise
must ever hold an high authority), but more narrowly will examine his
parts: so that (as in a man) though altogether he may carry a presence
full of majesty and beauty, perchance in some one defectious piece we
may find a blemish: now in his parts, kinds, or species (as you list
to term them), it is to be noted, that some poesies have coupled
together two or three kinds, as tragical and comical, whereupon is
risen the tragi-comical. Some in the like manner have mingled prose
and verse, as Sanazzar and Boethius. Some have mingled matters heroical
and pastoral. But that cometh all to one in this question; for if
severed they be good, the conjunction cannot be hurtful. Therefore
perchance forgetting some, and leaving some as needless to be
remembered, it shall not be amiss in a word to cite the special kinds,
to see what faults may be found in the right use of them.

Is it then the pastoral poem which is misliked? for perchance, where
the hedge is lowest, they will soonest leap over. Is the poor pipe
disdained, which sometime out of Melibeus's mouth, can show the misery
of people under hard lords, or ravening soldiers? And again, by Tityrus,
what blessedness is derived to them that lie lowest from the goodness
of them that sit highest? Sometimes, under the pretty tales of wolves
and sheep, it can include the whole considerations of wrong-doing and
patience. Sometimes show, that contention for trifles can get but a
trifling victory. Where perchance a man may see that even Alexander
and Darius, when they strave who should be cock of this world's
dunghill, the benefit they got, was that the after-livers may say,