An Enquiry into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe/Chapter 5
CHAP. V.
Of the present state of polite learning in Italy.
Dante, who wrote in the 13th century, was the first who attempted to bring learning from the cloister into the community, and paint human nature in a language adapted to modern manners. He addressed a barbarous people in a method suited to their apprehensions; united purgatory and the river Styx, St. Peter and Virgil, heaven and hell together, and shews a strange mixture of good sense and absurdity. The truth is, he owes most of his reputation to the obscurity of the times in which he liv'd. As in the land of Benin a man may pass for a prodigy of parts who can read, so in an age of barbarity a small degree of excellence ensures success. Be it his greatest merit therefore to have lifted up the standard of nature, in spite of all the opposition and the persecution he received from cotemporary criticism. To this standard every succeeding genius resorted; the germ of every art and science began to unfold, and to imitate nature was found to be the surest way of imitating antiquity. In a century or two after, modern Italy might justly boast of rivalling ancient Rome; equal in some branches of polite learning, and not far surpassed in others.
They soon however fell from emulating the wonders of antiquity into simple admiration. As if the word had been given when Vida and Tasso wrote on the arts of poetry, the whole swarm of critics was up; the Speroni's of the age attempted to be awkwardly merry; and the virtuosi and the Nascotti sat upon the merits of every contemporary performance. After the age of Clement VII. the Italians seem'd to think that there was more merit in praising or censuring well, than in writing well; almost every subsequent performance being designed rather to shew the excellence of their taste than their genius.
But while I describe Italy as thus fallen from her former excellence, I cannot restrain the pleasure of mentioning one or two poets who seem born to redeem the honour of their country. Metastasio has restored nature in all her beauteous simplicity: no poet ever painted more conformably to truth, nor is there any whose characters speak a more heart-felt passion. His language also, if a foreigner may be allowed to determine, excells even that of Tasso, and his scenery is infinitely superior. Maffei is the first who has introduced a tragedy among his country-men without a love-plot. Perhaps the Sampson of Milton, and the Athalia of Racine, might have been his guides in such an attempt. Yet he seems as much inferior to either as a poet, as the subject of his Merope is more happily chosen.
Two poets, however, in an age are not sufficient to revive the splendor of decaying genius; nor should we consider the few as the national standard, by which to characterize the many. Our measures of literary reputation must be taken rather from that numerous class of men who, placed above the vulgar, are yet beneath the great, and who confer fame on others without receiving any portion of it themselves.
In Italy, then, we shall no where find a stronger passion for art or science, yet no country making more feeble efforts to promote either. The Virtuosi and Filosofi seem to have divided the Encyclopedia between each other. Both inviolably attach'd to their respective pursuits, and from an opposition of character, each holding the other in the most sovereign contempt. The Virtuosi professed critics of beauty in the works of art, judge of medals by the smell, and the merit of a picture by feeling. In statuary hang over a fragment with the most ardent gaze of admiration, tho' wanting the head and the other extremities, if dug from a ruin the Torse becomes inestimable. An unintelligible monument of Etruscan barbarity cannot be sufficiently prized; and any thing from Herculanean becomes rapturous. When the intellectual taste is thus decayed, its relishes become false, and, like that of sense, nothing will satisfy, but what is best suited to palliate or feed the disease.
Poetry is no longer among them the imitation of what we see, but of what a visionary might wish. The zephyr breathes the most exquisite perfume, the trees wear eternal verdure; fauns, and dryads, and hamadryads, stand ready to fan the sultry shepherdess, who has forgot indeed the prettinesses, with which former Italian shepherdesses have been reproached, but is so simple and innocent, as often to have no meaning. Happy country, where the pastoral age begins to revive! Where the wits even of Rome are united into a rural groupe of nymphs and swains, under the appellation of modern Arcadians. Where in the midst of porticos, processions, and cavalcades, abbes turn'd into shepherds, and shepherdesses without sheep, indulge their innocent divertimenti. Perhaps, while I am writing, a shepherdess of threescore is listening to the pastoral tale of a French abbe; a warm imagination might paint her in all the splendor of ripened beauty, reclined on a paste-board rock; might fancy her lover, with looks inexpressibly tender, ravishing a kiss from the snowy softness of one of her hands, while the other holds a crook according to pastoral decorum. Amidst such frippery as this, there was no place for friendless Metastasio; he has left Italy, and the genius of nature seems to have left it with him.
The Filosofi are entirely different from the former. As those pretend to have got their knowlege from conversing with the living and polite, so these boast of having theirs from books and study. Bred up all their lives in colleges, they have there learned to think in track, servilely to follow the leader of their sect, and only to adopt such opinions, as their universities, or the inquisition, are pleased to allow. By this means, they are behind the rest of Europe, in several modern improvements. Afraid to think for themselves; and universities seldom admit opinions as true, till universally received among the rest of mankind. In short, were I to personize my ideas of learning in this country, I would either represent it in the tawdry habits of the stage, or else in the more homely guise of bearded school-philosophy.
The Germans early discovered a passion for polite literature; but unhappily, like conquerors, who invading the dominions of others, leave their own to desolation, instead of studying the German tongue, they wrote in Latin; thus, while they cultivated an obsolete language, and vainly laboured to apply it to modern customs, they neglected their own. At the same time, they began also, by being commentators, and tho' they have given many instances of their industry, they have scarce afforded any of genius. If criticism could have improved the taste of a people, the Germans would have been the most polite nation alive. We shall no where behold the learned wear a more important appearance than here; no where more dignified with professorships, or dressed out in the fopperies of scholastic finery. However, they seem to earn all the honours of this kind they enjoy. Their assiduity is unparallelled; and did the learned of this country employ half those hours on study, which they bestow on reading, we might be induced to pity, as well as praise, their painful preheminence. But guilty of a fault, too common to great readers, they write through volumes, while they do not think through a page. Never fatigued themselves, they think the reader can never be weary; so they drone on, saying all that can be said on the subject, not selecting what may be advanced to the purpose. Were angels to write books, they would never write folios.
But let the Germans have their due; if they are often a little dull, no nation alive assumes a more laudable solemnity, or better understands all the little decorums of stupidity. Let the discourse of a professor run on never so heavily, it cannot be irksome to his dosing pupils, who frequently lend him their sympathetic nods of approbation. I have sometimes attended their disputes at gradation. On this occasion, they often dispense with learned gravity, and seem really all alive. The disputes are managed between the followers of Cartesius, whose exploded system they call the new philosophy, and those of Aristotle. Though both parties are wrong, they argue with an obstinacy worthy the cause of truth; Nego, Probo, and Distinguo, grow loud. The disputants become warm, the moderator cannot be heard, the audience take part in the debate, till at last, the whole hall buzzes with erroneous philosophy.
There are, it is true, several societies in this country, which are chiefly calculated to promote natural knowlege. The elector of Hanover has established one at Gottingen, at an expence of not less than an hundred thousand pound. This university has already pickled monsters, and dissected live puppies without number. Their transactions of this kind have been published in the learned world at proper intervals, since their institution; and will, it is hoped, one day give them a just reputation. Had the fourth part of the immense sum above mentioned, been given in proper rewards to genius, in some neighbouring countries, it would have rendered the name of the donor immortal, and added to the real interests of society.
But let me cease from censure, since I have here so fine an opportunity of praise. Even in the midst of Germany, true learning has found an assylum, and taste, and genius, have been patronized by a prince, who, in the humblest station, had been the first of mankind. The society established by the king of Prussia at Berlin, is one of the finest literary institutions that any age or nation has produced. This academy comprehends all the sciences under four different classes; and although the object of each is different, and admits of being separately treated, yet these classes mutually influence the progress of each other, and concur in the same general design. Experimental philosophy, mathematics, metaphysics, and polite literature, are here carried on together, and mutually illustrate, and strengthen, and adorn each other. The members are not collected from among the students of some obscure seminary, or the wits of a metropolis, but chosen from all the literati of Europe, supported by the bounty, and ornamented by the productions of their royal founder. We can easily discern, how much such an institution excells any other now subsisting. One fundamental error among societies of this kind, is their addicting themselves to one branch of science, or some particular part of polite learning. Thus, in Germany, there are no where so many establishments of this nature; but as they generally profess the promotion of natural or medical knowlege, he who reads their Acta, will only find an obscure farrago of experiments, most frequently terminated by no resulting phænomena. To make experiments is, I own, the only way to promote natural knowlege; but to treasure up every unsuccessful enquiry into nature, or to communicate every experiment without conclusion, is not to promote science, but confuse it; not to lift learning from obscurity, but with additional weight to oppress it. Had the members of these societies enlarged their plans, and taken in art as well as science, one part of knowlege would have repressed any faulty luxuriance in the other, and all would have mutually assisted each others promotion.
Add to this, the society which, with a contempt of all collateral assistance, admits of members skilled in one science only, whatever their diligence, or labour may be, will lose much time in the discovery of such truths as are well known already to the learned in a different line, consequently their progress must be slow in gaining a proper eminence, from which to view their subject, and their strength will be exhausted in attaining the station from whence they should have set out. With regard to the Royal Society of London, the greatest, perhaps, the oldest institution of the kind, had it widened the basis of its institution, though they might not have propagated more discoveries, at least, they would have delivered them in a more pleasing and compendious form. They would have been hitherto free from the contempt of the ill-natured, and the raillery of the wit, for which, even candour must allow, there is but too much foundation.
The Berlin academy is subject to none of the inconveniencies above mentioned, but every one of its individuals is in a capacity of deriving more from the common stock than he contributes to it, while each academician serves as a check upon the rest of his fellows. Yet, perhaps, even this fine institution will soon decay. As it rose, so it will probably decline, with its great encourager. The society, if I may so speak, is artificially supported; the introduction of foreigners of learning was right; but in adopting a foreign language also, I mean the French, in which all the transactions are to be published, and questions debated; in this there might have been an error. As I have already hinted, the language of the natives of every country, should be also the language of its polite learning, I may be supposed to carry the thought too far, when I say, that to figure in polite learning, every country should make their own language, from their own manners; nor will they ever succeed by introducing that of another, which has been formed from manners which are different. Besides, an academy composed of foreigners, must still be recruited from abroad, unless all the natives of the country, to which it belongs, are in a capacity to become candidates for its honours, or rewards. While France continues to supply Berlin, polite learning will flourish; when royal favour is withdrawn, learning will return to its natural country.
Holland, at first view, appears to have some pretensions to polite learning. It may be regarded as the great emporium, not less of literature, than of every commodity. Here, though destitute of what may be properly called a language of their own, all the languages are understood, cultivated and spoken. All useful inventions in arts, and new discoveries in science, are published here almost as soon as at the places which first produced them. Its individuals have the same faults, however, with the Germans, of making more use of their memory, than their judgment. The chief employment of their literati is to criticise, or answer the new performances which appear elsewhere.
A dearth of wit in France or England, naturally produces a scarcity in Holland. What Ovid says of Eccho, may be applied here, Nec loqui prius ipsa didicit nec reticere loquenti. They wait till something new comes out from others, examine its merits, and reject it, or make it reverberate through the rest of Europe.
After all, I know not whether they should be allowed any national character for polite learning. All their taste is derived to them from neighbouring nations, and that in a language not their own. They somewhat resemble their brokers, who trade for immense sums, without having any capital.
The other countries of Europe may be considered as immersed in ignorance, or making but feeble efforts to rise. Spain has long fallen from amazing Europe with her wit, to amusing them with the greatness of her catholic credulity. Rome considers her as the most favourite of all her children, and school-divinity still reigns there in triumph. In spite of all attempts of the marquis D'ensanada, who saw with regret, the barbarity of his countrymen, and bravely offered to oppose it, by introducing new systems of learning, and suppressing the seminaries of monastic ignorance, in spite of the ingenuity of Padré Frejo, whose book of vulgar errors so finely exposes the monkish stupidity of the times, the religious have prevailed. Ensanada has been banished, and now lives in exile; Frejo has incurred the hatred and contempt of every bigot, whose errors he has attempted to oppose, and feels, no doubt, the unremitting displeasure of the priesthood. Persecution is a tribute, the Great must ever pay for preheminence.
It is a little extraordinary, however, why Spain, whose genius is naturally fine, should be so much behind the rest of Europe, in this particular; or why school divinity should hold its ground there, for near 600 years. The reason, perhaps, may be, that philosophical opinions, tho' in themselves transient, acquire stability in proportion, as they are connected with religion, and philosophy and religion have no where been so closely united as here.
Sweden has of late made some attempts in polite learning, in its own language. Count Tessin's instructions to the prince his pupil, are no bad beginning. If the muses can fix their residence so far northward, perhaps, no country bids so fair for their reception. They have, I am told, a language rude, but energetic; if so, it will bear a polish; they have also a jealous sense of liberty, and that strength of thinking, peculiar to northern climates, without its attendant ferocity. They will certainly in time, produce somewhat great, if their intestine divisions do not unhappily prevent them.
The history of polite learning in Denmark, may be comprized in the life of one single man; it rose and fell with the late famous baron Holberg. This was, perhaps, one of the most extraordinary personages that has done honour to the present century. His being the son of a private centinel, did not abate the ardour of his ambition, for he learned to read, though without a master. Upon the death of his father, being left entirely destitute, he was involved in all that distress, which is common among the poor, and of which the Great have scarce any idea. However, though only a boy of nine years old, he still persisted in pursuing his studies, travelled about from school to school, and begg'd his learning and his bread. When at the age of seventeen, instead of applying himself to any of the lower occupations, which seem best adapted to such circumstances, he was resolved to travel for improvement, from Norway the place of his birth, to Copenhagen the capital city of Denmark. He lived here by teaching French, at the same time, avoiding no opportunity of improvement, that his scanty funds could permit. But his ambition was not to be restrained, or his thirst of knowledge satisfied, until he had seen the world. Without money, recommendations or friends, he undertook to set out upon his travels, and make the tour of Europe on foot. A good voice, and a trifling skill in musick, were the only finances he had to support an undertaking so extensive; so he travelled by day, and at night sung at the doors of peasants houses, to get himself a lodging. In this manner, young Holberg passed thro' France, Germany, and Holland, and coming over to England, took up his residence for two years in the university of Oxford. Here, he subsisted by teaching French and music, and wrote his universal history, his earliest, but worst performance. Furnished with all the learning of Europe, he at last thought proper to return to Copenhagen, where his ingenious productions quickly gained him that favour he deserved. He composed not less than 18 comedies; those in his own language are said to excel, and those which are wrote in French have peculiar merit. He was honoured with nobility, and enriched by the bounty of the king; so that a life begun in contempt and penury, ended in opulence and esteem.
Thus we see, in what a low state polite learning is in the countries I have mentioned. Though the sketch I have drawn be general, yet it was, for the most part, taken upon the spot, nor are the assertions hazarded at random. I am sensible, however, of the impropriety of national reflection; and did not truth biass me more than inclination in this particular, I should, instead of the account already given, have presented the reader with a panegyric on many of the individuals of every country, whose merits deserve the warmest strains of praise. Apostol Zeno, Muratori, and Stay, in Italy; Haller, Klopstock, and Rabner, in Germany; Muschenbrook, and Gaubius, in Holland; all deserve the highest applause. But it was my design, rather to give an idea of the spirit of learning in these countries, than a dry catalogue of authors names and writings.
But, let me cease a moment from considering this worthy, however erroneous, part of mankind, on that side alone, on which they are exposed to censure, and survey them, as the friends of man.
While the great, and the avaricious of this world, are contriving means to aggravate national hatred; and, perhaps, fonder of satisfying vanity than justice, are willing to make the world uneasy, because themselves are so; these harmless instruments of peace, united by one bond, pursuing one design, spend their labour, and their lives, in making their fellow-creatures happy, and repairing the breaches caused by ambition. In this light the meanest philosopher, though all his possessions are his lamp or his cell, is more truly valuable than he, whose name ecchoes to the shout of the million, and who stands in all the glare of admiration. In this light, though poverty and contemptuous neglect are all the wages of his good will from mankind, yet the rectitude of his intention is an ample recompence, and self applause for the present, and the alluring prospect of fame for futurity reward his labours. The perspective of life brightens, when terminated by an object so charming. Every intermediate image of want, banishment, or sorrow, receives a lustre from its distant influence. With this in view, the patriot, philosopher, and poet, have often looked with calmness on disgrace and famine, and rested on their straw with chearful serenity. Even the last terrors of departing nature abate of their severity, and look kindly on him, who considers his sufferings as a passport to immortality, and lays his sorrows on the bed of fame.