misc writings and speeches(米斯克说与写)-第18章
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addressed to the same insipid and heartless coquette。 I cannot but
suspect also that the perverted taste; which is the blemish of his amatory
verses; was to be attributed to the influence of Laura; who; probably; like
most critics of her sex; preferred a gaudy to a majestic style。 Be this as it
may; he no sooner changes his subject than he changes his manner。
When he speaks of the wrongs and degradation of Italy; devastated by
foreign invaders; and but feebly defended by her pusillanimous children;
the effeminate lisp of the sonnetteer is exchanged for a cry; wild; and
solemn; and piercing as that which proclaimed 〃Sleep no more〃 to the
bloody house of Cawdor。 〃Italy seems not to feel her sufferings;〃
exclaims her impassioned poet; 〃decrepit; sluggish; and languid; will she
sleep forever? Will there be none to awake her? Oh that I had my
hands twisted in her hair!〃
(〃Che suoi guai non par che senta; Vecchia; oziosa; e lenta。 Dormira
sempre; e non fia chi la svegli? Le man l' avess' io avvolte entro e
capegli。〃 Canzone xi。)
Nor is it with less energy that he denounces against the Mahometan
Babylon the vengeance of Europe and of Christ。 His magnificent
enumeration of the ancient exploits of the Greeks must always excite
admiration; and cannot be perused without the deepest interest; at a time
when the wise and good; bitterly disappointed in so many other countries;
are looking with breathless anxiety towards the natal land of liberty;the
field of Marathon;and the deadly pass where the Lion of Lacedaemon
turned to bay。 (〃Maratona; e le mortali strette Che difese il LEON con
poca gente。〃 Canzone v。)
His poems on religious subjects also deserve the highest
commendation。 At the head of these must be placed the Ode to the
Virgin。 It is; perhaps; the finest hymn in the world。 His devout
veneration receives an exquisitely poetical character from the delicate
perception of the sex and the loveliness of his idol; which we may easily
trace throughout the whole composition。
I could dwell with pleasure on these and similar parts of the writings
of Petrarch; but I must return to his amatory poetry: to that he entrusted his
fame; and to that he has principally owed it。
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The prevailing defect of his best compositions on this subject is the
universal brilliancy with which they are lighted up。 The natural language
of the passions is; indeed; often figurative and fantastic; and with none is
this more the case than with that of love。 Still there is a limit。 The
feelings should; indeed; have their ornamental garb; but; like an elegant
woman; they should be neither muffled nor exposed。 The drapery should
be so arranged; as at once to answer the purposes of modest concealment
and judicious display。 The decorations should sometimes be employed to
hide a defect; and sometimes to heighten a beauty; but never to conceal;
much less to distort; the charms to which they are subsidiary。 The love of
Petrarch; on the contrary; arrays itself like a foppish savage; whose nose is
bored with a golden ring; whose skin is painted with grotesque forms and
dazzling colours; and whose ears are drawn down his shoulders by the
weight of jewels。 It is a rule; without any exception; in all kinds of
composition; that the principal idea; the predominant feeling; should never
be confounded with the accompanying decorations。 It should generally
be distinguished from them by greater simplicity of expression; as we
recognise Napoleon in the pictures of his battles; amidst a crowd of
embroidered coats and plumes; by his grey cloak and his hat without a
feather。 In the verses of Petrarch it is generally impossible to say what
thought is meant to be prominent。 All is equally elaborate。 The chief
wears the same gorgeous and degrading livery with his retinue; and
obtains only his share of the indifferent stare which we bestow upon them
in common。 The poems have no strong lights and shades; no background;
no foreground;they are like the illuminated figures in an oriental
manuscript;plenty of rich tints and no perspective。 Such are the faults
of the most celebrated of these compositions。 Of those which are
universally acknowledged to be bad it is scarcely possible to speak with
patience。 Yet they have much in common with their splendid
companions。 They differ from them; as a Mayday procession of
chimneysweepers differs from the Field of Cloth of Gold。 They have the
gaudiness but not the wealth。 His muse belongs to that numerous class of
females who have no objection to be dirty; while they can be tawdry。
When his brilliant conceits are exhausted; he supplies their place with
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metaphysical quibbles; forced antitheses; bad puns; and execrable
charades。 In his fifth sonnet he may; I think; be said to have sounded the
lowest chasm of the Bathos。 Upon the whole; that piece may be safely
pronounced to be the worst attempt at poetry; and the worst attempt at wit;
in the world。
A strong proof of the truth of these criticisms is; that almost all the
sonnets produce exactly the same effect on the mind of the reader。 They
relate to all the various moods of a lover; from joy to despair:yet they are
perused; as far as my experience and observation have gone; with exactly
the same feeling。 The fact is; that in none of them are the passion and the
ingenuity mixed in just proportions。 There is not enough sentiment to
dilute the condiments which are employed to season it。 The repast which
he sets before us resembles the Spanish entertainment in Dryden's 〃Mock
Astrologer〃; at which the relish of all the dishes and sauces was
overpowered by the common flavour of spice。 Fish;flesh;fowl;
everything at table tasted of nothing but red pepper。
The writings of Petrarch may indeed suffer undeservedly from one
cause to which I must allude。 His imitators have so much familiarised
the ear of Italy and of Europe to the favourite topics of amorous flattery
and lamentation; that we can scarcely think them original when we find
them in the first author; and; even when our understandings have
convinced us that they were new to him; they are still old to us。 This has
been the fate of many of the finest passages of the most eminent writers。
It is melancholy to trace a noble thought from stage to stage of its
profanation; to see it transferred from the first illustrious wearer to his
lacqueys; turned; and turned again; and at last hung on a scarecrow。
Petrarch has really suffered much from this cause。 Yet that he should
have so suffered is a sufficient proof that his excellences were not of the
highest order。 A line may be stolen; but the pervading spirit of a great
poet is not to be surreptitiously obtained by a plagiarist。 The continued
imitation of twenty…five centuries has left Homer as it found him。 If
every simile and every turn of Dante had been copied ten thousand times;
the Divine Comedy would have retained all its freshness。 It was easy for
the porter in Farquhar to pass for Beau Clincher; by borrowing his lace
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and his pulvilio。 It would have been more difficult to enact Sir Harry
Wildair。
Before I quit this subject I must defend Petrarch from one accusation
which is in the present day frequently brought against him。 His sonnets
are pronounced by a large sect of critics not to possess certain qualities
which they maintain to be indispensable to sonnets; with as much
confidence; and as much reason; as their prototypes of old insisted on the
unities of the drama。 I am an exotericutterly unable to explain the
mysteries of this new poetical faith。 I only know that it is a faith; which
except a man do keep pure and undefiled; without doubt he shall be called
a blockhead。 I cannot; however; refrain from asking what is the
particular virtue which belongs to fourteen as distinguished from all other
numbers。 Does it arise from its being a multiple of seven? Has this
principle any reference to the sabbatical ordinance? Or is it to the order
of rhymes that these singular properties are attached? Unhappily the
sonnets of Shakspeare differ as much in this respect from those of Petrarch;
as from a Spenserian or an octave stanza。 Away with this unmeaning
jargon! We have pulled down the old regime of criticism。 I trust that
we shall never tolerate the equally pedantic and irrational despotism;
which some of the revolutionary leaders would erect upon its ruins。 We
have not dethroned Aristotle and Bossu for this。
These sonnet…fanciers would do well to reflect that; though the style of
Petrarch may not suit the standard of perfection which they have chosen;
they lie under grea