An Enquiry Into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe

Front matter

AN

ENQUIRY

INTO THE

Chapter I.

AN

ENQUIRY

INTO THE

PRESENT STATE

OF

POLITE LEARNING.

CHAP. I.

INTRODUCTION.

It has been so long the practice to represent literature as declining, that every renewal of this complaint now comes with diminish'd influence. The publick has been often excited by a false alarm, so that at present the nearer we approach the threatned period of decay, the more our fatal security increases.

To deplore the prostitution of learning, and despise cotemporary merit, it must be owned, have too often been the resource of the envious or disappointed, the dictates of resentment not impartiality. The writer, possessed of fame, is willing to enjoy it without a rival, by lessening every competitor; the unsuccessful author is desirous to turn upon others the contempt which is levelled at himself, and being convicted at the bar of literary justice, vainly hopes for pardon by accusing every brother of the same profession.

Sensible of this; the writer of the following essay is at a loss where to find an apology for his conduct, in still persisting to arraign the merit of the age; for joining in a cry which the judicious have long since left to be kept up by the vulgar, and for adopting the sentiments of the multitude in a performance that at best can please only the Few.

Complaints of our degeneracy in literature as well as in morals, I own have been frequently exhibited of late; but seem to be enforced more with the ardour of devious declamation, than the calmness of deliberate enquiry. The dullest critic, who strives at a reputation for delicacy, by shewing he cannot be pleased, may pathetically assure us that our taste is upon the decline, may consign every modern performance to oblivion, and bequeath nothing to posterity except the labours of our ancestors, and his own. Such general invective, however, conveys no instruction; all it teaches is, that the writer dislikes an age by which he is probably disregarded. The manner of being useful on the subject would be to point out the symptoms, to investigate the causes, and direct to the remedies of the approaching decay. This is a subject hitherto unattempted in criticism, perhaps it is the only subject in which criticism can be useful.

To mark out, therefore, the corruptions that have found way into the republick of letters, to attempt the rescuing of genius from the shackles of pedantry and criticism, to distinguish the decay, naturally consequent on an age like ours grown old in literature, from every erroneous innovation which admits a remedy, to take a view of those societies which profess the advancement of polite learning, and by a mutual opposition of their excellencies and defects to attempt the improvement of each, is the design of this essay.

How far the writer is equal to such an undertaking the reader must determine; but this may be asserted without the imputation of vanity, that he enters the lists with no disappointments to biass his judgment, nor will he ever reprove but with a desire to reform. The defects of his execution may be compensated by the usefulness of his design, his observations may be just, tho' his manner of expressing them should only serve as an example of the errors he undertakes to reprove.

If the present enquiry were a topick of speculative curiosity, calculated to fill up a few vacant moments in literary indolence, I should think my labour ill bestowed. To rank in the same despicable class with the dissertations, ænigma's, problems, and other periodical compilations with which even idleness is cloyed at present, is by no means my ambition. True learning and true morality are closely connected; to im- prove the head will insensibly influence the heart, a deficiency of taste and a corruption of manners are sometimes found mutually to produce each other.

Dissenting from received opinions may frequently render this essay liable to correction, yet the reader may be assured that a passion for singularity never gives rise to the error. Novelty is not permitted to usurp the place of reason; it may attend, but shall not conduct the enquiry. The more original however any performance is, the more it is liable to deviate; for cautious stupidity is always in the right. In literature as in commerce the value of the acquisition is generally proportioned to the hazard of the adventure. I shall think therefore with freedom, and bear correction with candour. It is but just that he who dissents from others should not be displeased if others differ from him. The applause of a few, a very few, will satisfy ambition, and even ill-nature must confess that I have been willing to advance the reputation of the age at the hazard of my own.

Chapter II.

CHAP. II.

Of the decline of ancient learning.

I we consider the revolutions which have happened in the common wealth of letters, survey the rapid progress of learning in one period of antiquity, or its amazing decline in another, we shall be almost induc'd to accuse nature of partiality, as if she had exhausted all her efforts in adorning one age, while she left the succeeding entirely neglected. It is not to nature, however, but to ourselves alone that this partiality must be ascrib'd; the seeds of excellence are sown in every age, and it is wholly owing to a wrong direction in the passions or pursuits of mankind that they have not received the proper cultivation. It is not nature that is fatigued with pro- ducing her wonders so much as we that are satiated with admiration.

As in the best regulated societies, the very laws which at first give the government solidity, may in the end contribute to its dissolution, so the efforts which might have promoted learning in its feeble commencement may, if continued, retard its progress. The paths of science which were at first intricate because untrodden, may at last grow toilsome because too much frequented. As learning advances, the candidates for its honours may become more numerous, and the acquisition of fame more uncertain; the modest may despair of attaining it, and the opulent think it too precarious to pursue; thus the task of supporting the honour of the times may at last devolve on indigence and effrontery, and learning partake the contempt of its professors.

To illustrate these assertions it may be proper to take a slight review of the decline of ancient learning; to consider how far its depravation was owing to the impossibility of supporting continued perfection; in what respects it proceeded from voluntary corruption; and how far it was hastened on by accidental event. If Modern learning be compared with Ancient in these different lights, a parallel between both, which has hitherto produced only vain dispute, may contribute to amusement, perhaps, instruction. We shall thus be enabled to perceive what period of antiquity the present age most resembles, whether we are making advances towards excellence or retiring again to primeval obscurity; we shall, by their exam- ple, be taught to acquiesce in those defects which it is impossible to prevent; and reject all faulty innovations tho' offered under the specious titles of improvement.

In early ages when man was employed in acquiring necessary subsistance, or in defending his acquisitions, when without laws or society he led a precarious life, while even the savage rivalled him in the dominion of the forest; in such times of fatigue and darkness we must not look for the origin of arts or learning, which are the offspring of security, opulence and ease. When experience taught the advantages of society, when native freedom was exchanged for social security, when man began to feel the benefit of laws, and the mind had leisure for the contemplation of nature and itself, then, probably, the sciences might have been culti- vated to add strength to the rising community, and the polite arts introduced to promote its enjoyments.

Learning, when planted in any country, is transient and fading, nor does it flourish till slow gradations of improvement have naturalized it to the soil. It makes feeble advances, begins among the vulgar, and rises into reputation among the great. It cannot be established in a state at once, by introducing the learned of other countries; these may grace a court, but seldom enlighten a kingdom. Ptolemy Philadelphus, Constantine Porphyriogeneta, Alfred, or Charlemagne, might have invited learned foreigners into their dominions, but could not establish learning. While in the radiance of royal favour, every art and science seemed to flourish, but when that was withdrawn, they quickly felt the rigours of a strange climate, and with exotic constitutions perished by neglect.

As the arts and sciences are slow in coming to maturity, it is requisite in order to their perfection, that the state should be permanent, which gives them reception. There are numberless attempts without success, and experiments without conclusion, between the first rudiments of an art, and its utmost perfection, between the outlines of a shadow, and the picture of an Apelles. Leisure is required to go through the tedious interval, to join the experience of predecessors to our own, or enlarge our views, by building on the ruined attempts of former adventurers. All this may be performed in a society of long continuance; but if the kingdom be but of short duration, as was the case of Arabia, learning seems coeval, sympathizes with its political struggles, and is annihilated in its dissolution.

But permanence in a state, is not alone sufficient, it is requisite also for this end that it should be free. Naturalists assure us, that all animals are sagacious in proportion as they are removed from the tyranny of others; in native liberty, the elephant is a citizen, and the beaver, an architect; but whenever the tyrant man intrudes upon their community, their spirit is broken, they seem anxious only for safety, and their intellects suffer an equal diminution with their prosperity. The parallel will hold with regard to mankind; fear naturally represses invention, benevolence, ambition; for in a nation of slaves, as in the despotic governments of the east, to labour after fame is to be a candidate for danger.

For a state to attain literary excellence, besides, it is requisite, that the soil and climate should, as much as possible, conduce to happiness. The earth must supply man with the necessaries of life, before he has leisure, or inclination, to pursue its more refined enjoyments. The climate also must be equally indulgent, for, in too warm a region, the mind is relaxed into languors, and by the opposite excess, is chilled into torpid inactivity.

These are the principal advantages which tend to the improvement of learning. Encouragement from the Great is useful in preventing its decline.

Those who behold the phænomena of nature, and content themselves with the view without enquiring into their causes, are perhaps wiser than is generally imagined. In this manner our rude ancestors were acquainted with facts, and Poetry, which helped the imagination, and the memory was thought the most proper vehicle for conveying their knowledge to posterity. It was the poet, who harmonized the ungrateful accents of his native dialect, who lifted it above common conversation, and shaped its rude combinations into order. From him the orator formed a stile, and though poetry first rose out of prose, in turn, it gave birth to every prosaic excellence. Musical period, concise expression, and delicacy of sentiment, were all excellencies derived from the poet; in short, he not only preceded, but formed the orator, philosopher, and historian.

When the observations of past ages were collected, philosophy began to examine their causes. She had numberless facts from which to draw proper inferences, and poetry had taught her the strongest expression to enforce them. The Greeks, (for we know little of the Egyptian learning) now exerted all their happy talents in the investigation of truth, and the production of beauty. Before this, the works of art were remarkable only for the vastness of design, and seemed the productions of giants, not of ordinary men; learning was another name for magic, or to give it its real appellation, imposture. But those improvers saw there was more excellence in captivating the judgment, than in raising a momentary astonishment: in their arts they imitated only such parts of nature, as might please in the representation; in the sciences, they cultivated such parts of knowlege, as it was every man's duty to be acquainted with. Unity, variety, and proportion, charmed in all their designs; liberty, patriotism, and a subjection to the laws were, what all their true philosophers strove to inculcate. Thus learning was encouraged, protected, honoured, and in its turn, it adorned, strengthened and harmonized the community.

From being the disciple of Greece, Rome soon became its rival, and was as much esteemed for its improvements in the arts of peace, as feared for its atchievements in those of war. The Romans understood, perhaps, better than their masters, the manner of blending art and science for their mutual improvement. By this means their philosophy acquired more grace, and their poetry more sentiment. They entirely banished that magical obscurity, which the Greeks first borrowed from other nations, and some part of which, their most admired writers thought proper still to retain. The learning of the Romans might justly be stiled, the truest refinement on common sense, it was therefore, a proper instrument in the hands of ambition. Their most powerful men, not only encouraged, but became themselves, the finest models of literary perfection. Thus the arts and sciences went on together, and reasoning proceeded no farther, than where experiment pointed out the way.

But as the operations of body are slow, those of the mind vigorous and active, as experiment is dilatory and painful, speculation quick and amusing, the spirit of phi- losophy being excited, the reasoner, when destitute of experiment, had recourse to theory, and gave up what was useful for refinement.

Critics, sophists, grammarians, rhetoricians, and commentators, now began to figure in the literary commonwealth. In the dawn of science, such are generally modest, and not entirely useless; their performances serve to mark the progress of learning, tho' they seldom contribute to its improvement. But as nothing but labour is required in making proficients, in their respective departments; so neither the satyr, nor the contempt of the wise, though Socrates was of the number, nor the laws levelled at them by the state, though Cato was in the legislature, could prevent their approaches. Possessed of all the advantages of unfeeling dullness, laborious, insen- sible, shameless and persevering, they still proceeded mending, and mending every work of genius, or to speak without irony, undermining all that was polite and useful. Libraries were crammed, but not enriched with their labours, while the fatigues of reading their explanatory comments was ten-fold that which might suffice for understanding the original. Their works effectually encreased our application, by professing to remove it.

Against so obstinate and irrefragable an enemy, what could avail the unsupported sallies of genius, or the opposition of transitory resentment? In short, they conquered by persevering, claimed the right of dictating upon every work of taste, sentiment, or genius, and at last, when destitute of other employment, like the super- numerary domestics of the great, made work for each other.

They now took upon them to teach poetry, to those who wanted genius, and the power of disputing, to those who knew nothing of the subject in debate. It was observed, how some of the most admired poets had copied nature. From these, they collected dry rules, dignified with long names, and such were obtruded upon the public for their improvement. Common sense would be apt to suggest, that the art might be studied to more advantage, rather by imitation than precept. It might suggest, that those rules were collected, not from nature, but a copy of nature, and would consequently give us still fainter resemblances of original beauty. It might still suggest, that explained wit, makes but a feeble impression, that the obser- vations of others, are soon forgotten, those, made by ourselves, are permanent and useful. But, it seems, understandings of every size were to be mechanically instructed in poetry. If the reader was too dull to relish the beauties of Virgil, the comment of Servius was ready to brighten his imagination; if Terence could not raise him to a smile, Evantius was at hand, with a long-winded scholium to encrease his titillation. Such rules are calculated to make blockheads talk, but all the lemmata of the Lyceum are unable to give him feeling.

Their logical disputations seemed even to be the apotheosis of folly. In these the opponent had a right to affirm, whatever absurdity he thought proper. The defendant, though he saw the falshood almost by intuition, was not allowed to use his reason, but his art, in the debate. It was his business only to measure the assertion by one of his artificial instruments, and as it happened to accord, or disagree, he found himself qualified to support, or obliged to discontinue, his defence; which seldom, however, happened, till fatigue or anger terminated the enquiry.

But it would be endless to recount all the insect-like absurdities, which were hatched in the schools of those specious idlers; be it sufficient to say, that they encreased as learning improved, but swarmed on its decline. It was then, that every work of taste was buried in long comments, every useful subject in morals, was distinguished away into casuistry, and doubt and subtilty characterized the learning of the age. , , Aulus Gellius, Pedianus, Boethius, and an hundred others, to be acquainted with whom, might shew much reading, and but little judgment; these, I say, made choice each of an author, and delivered all their load of learning on his back; shame to our ancestors, many of their works have reached our times entire, while Tacitus himself has suffered mutilation.

In a word, the commonwealth of literature, was at last wholly overrun by these studious triflers. Men of real genius, were lost in the multitude, or, as in a world of fools, it were folly to aim at being an only exception, obliged to conform to every prevailing absurdity of the times. Original productions seldom appeared, and learning, as if grown superanuated, bestowed all its panegyric upon the vigour of its youth, and turned encomiast upon its former atchievements.

It is to these, then, that the depravation of ancient polite learning, is principally to be ascribed. By them it was separated from common sense, and made the proper employment of speculative idlers. Men bred up among books, and seeing nature only by reflection, could do little, except hunt after perplexity and confusion. The public, therefore, with reason rejected learning, when thus rendered barren, though voluminous, for we may be assured, that the generality of mankind never lose a passion for letters, while they continue to be either amusing or useful.

It was such writers as these, that rendered learning unfit for uniting and strength- ening civil society, or for promoting the views of ambition. True philosophy had kept the Græcian states cemented into one effective body, more than any law for that purpose; and the Etrurian philosophy, which prevailed in the first ages of Rome, inspired those patriot virtues, which paved the way to universal empire. But by the labours of commentators, when philosophy became abstruse, or triflingly minute, when doubt was presented instead of knowledge, when the orator was taught to charm the multitude with the music of his periods, and pronounced a declamation, that might be sung as well as spoken, and often upon subjects wholly fictitious; in such circumstances, learning was entirely unsuited to all the purposes of government, or the designs of the ambitious. As long as the sciences could influence the state, and its politics were strengthened by them, so long did the community give them countenance and protection. But the wiser part of mankind would not be imposed upon by unintelligible jargon, nor, like the knight in Pantagruel, swallow a chimera for a breakfast, though even cooked by Aristotle. As the philosopher grew useless in the state, he also became contemptible. In the times of Lucian, he was chiefly remarkable for his avarice, his impudence, and his beard.

Under the auspicious influence of genius, arts and sciences grew up together, and mutually illustrated each other. But when once Pedants became lawgivers, the sciences began to want grace, and the polite arts solidity; these grew crabbed and sowre, those meretricious and gawdy; the philosopher became disgustingly precise, and the poet, ever straining after grace, caught only finery.

These men also contributed to obstruct the progress of wisdom, by addicting their readers to one particular sect, or some favourite science. They generally carried on a petty traffic in some little creek; within that they busily plied about, and drove an insignificant trade; but never ventured out into the great ocean of knowlege, nor went beyond the bounds that chance, conceit, or laziness had first prescribed their enquiries. Their disciples, instead of aiming at being originals themselves, became imitators of that merit alone, which was constantly proposed for their admiration. In exercises of this kind, the most stupid are generally most successful; for there is not in nature, a more imitative animal than a dunce.

From hence ancient learning may be distinguished into three periods. Its commencement, or the age of poets; its maturity, or the age of philosophers; and its decline, or the age of critics. In the commencement of learning, commentators were very few, but might have, in some respects, been useful. In its maturity, their assistance must necessarily become obnoxious, yet, as if the nearer we approached perfection, the more we stood in need of their directions, in this period they began to grow numerous. But when polite learning was no more, then it was those literary lawgivers made the most formidable appearance. Corruptissima republica, plurimæ leges. Tacit.

Chapter III.

CHAP. III.

A view of the obscure ages.

W the skill of any country may be in the sciences, it is from its excellence in polite learning alone, it must expect a character from posterity. The poet and the historian, are they who diffuse a lustre upon the age, and the philosopher scarce acquires any applause, unless his character be introduced to the vulgar by their mediation.

The obscure ages which succeeded the decline of the Roman empire, are a striking instance of the truth of this assertion. Whatever period of those ill-fated times we happen to turn to, we shall perceive more skill in the sciences among the pro- fessors of them, more abstruse and deeper enquiry into every philosophical subject, and a greater shew of subtilty and close reasoning, than in the most enlightened ages of all antiquity. But their writings were mere speculative amusements, and all their researches exhausted upon trifles. Unskilled in the arts of adorning their knowlege, or adapting it to common sense, their voluminous productions rest peacefully in our libraries, or at best, are enquired after from motives of curiosity, and not of learning, not by the scholar, but the virtuoso.

I am not insensible, that several late French historians, have exhibited the obscure ages in a very different light; they have represented them, as utterly ignorant both of arts and sciences, buried in the profoundest darkness, or only illuminated with a feeble gleam, which, like an expiring taper, rose and sunk by intervals. Such assertions, however, though they serve to help out the declaimer, should be cautiously admitted by the historian. The tenth century is particularly distinguished by posterity, with the appellation of obscure. Yet even in this, the reader's memory may possibly suggest the names of some, whose works, still preserved, discover a most extensive erudition, tho' rendered almost useless by affectation and obscurity. A few of their names and writings may be mentioned, which will serve at once to confirm what I assert, and give the reader an idea of what kind of learning an age declining into obscurity chiefly chuses to cultivate.

About the tenth century, flourished Leo the philosopher. We have seven volumes folio of his collections of laws, published at Paris, 1647. He wrote upon the art military, and understood also astronomy, and judicial astrology. He was seven times more voluminous than Plato.

Solomon, the German, wrote a most elegant dictionary of the Latin tongue, still preserved in the university of Louvain; Pantaleon, in the lives of his illustrious countrymen, speaks of it in the warmest strains of rapture. Dictionary writing was, at that time, much in fashion.

Constantine Porphyriogeneta, a man universally skilled in the sciences. His tracts on the administration of an empire, on tactics, on laws, &c. &c. were published some years since at Leyden. His court, for he was emperor of the east, was re- sorted to by the learned from all parts of the world.

Luitprandus, a most voluminous historian, particularly famous for the history of his own times. In this he shews himself a perfect matter of fact man, but, like some moderns, who only value themselves on the same qualification, he was a most notorious fabulist. The compliments paid him as a writer, are said to exceed even his own voluminous productions. I cannot pass over one of a latter date made him by a German divine. Luitprandus nunquam Luitprando dissimilis. In English, None but himself could be his parallel.

Alfric composed several grammars and dictionaries still preserved among the curious.

Pope Sylvester the eleventh, wrote a treatise on the sphere, on arithmetic, and geometry, published some years since at Paris.

Michael Psellus lived in this age, whose books in the sciences, I will not scruple to assert, contain more learning than those of any one of the earlier ages of antiquity: his erudition was indeed amazing, and he was as voluminous as he was learned. The character given him by has, perhaps, more truth in it than will be granted by those who have seen none of his productions. There was, says he, no science with which he was unacquainted, none which he did not write something upon, and none which he did not leave better than he found it. To mention his works, would be endless. His commentaries on Aristotle alone amount to three folios.

Bertholdus Teutonicus, a very voluminous historian. He was a politician, and wrote against the government; but most of his writings, though not all, are lost.

, a philosopher and physician. We have remaining but two volumes folio of his philological performances. However, the historian, who prefixes the life of the author to his works, says, that he wrote many more, as he kept on writing during the course of a long life; and when he had thus compiled more than any man that ever went before him, he sell asleep. In domino obdormivit.

Lambertus published an universal history about this time, which has been printed at Francfort in folio. An universal history in one folio! If he had consulted with his bookseller, he would have spun it out to ten at least; but Lambertus might have had too much modesty.

published commentaries upon Plato. Doctor Foster, in his late edition of the select dialogues of that philosopher, has often taken occasion to quote him, and mentions him with honour.

By this time, the reader perceives the spirit of learning, which at that time prevailed. The ignorance of the age was not owing to a dislike of knowledge, but a false standard of taste was erected, and a wrong direction given to philosophical enquiry. It was the fashion of the day to consult books, not nature, and to evaporate in a folio, the spirit that could scarce have sufficed for an epigram. The most barbarous times had men of learning, if commentators, compilers, polemic divines, and intricate metaphysicians, deserved the title.

I have mentioned but a very inconsiderable number of the writers in this age of obscurity. The multiplicity of their publications can, at least, equal those of any similar period of the most polite antiquity. As, therefore, the writers of those times are almost entirely forgotten, we may infer, that the number of publications alone will never secure any age whatsoever from oblivion. Nor can printing, contrary to what Mr. Baumelle has remarked, prevent literary decline for the future, since it only encreases the number of books, without advancing their intrinsic merit.

Chapter IV.

CHAP. IV.

A parallel between the rise and decline of ancient and modern learning.

F subjects have been more frequently and warmly debated, than the comparative superiority of the ancients and moderns. It is unaccountable how a dispute, so trifling, could be contested with so much virulence. A dispute of this nature, could have no other consequences, if decided, but to teach young writers to despise the one side or the other. A dispute, therefore, which, if determined, might tend rather to prejudice our taste, than improve it, should have been argued with good nature, as it could not with success. For mere critics to be guilty of such scholastic rage, is not un- common, but for men of the first rank of fame to be delinquent also, is, I own, surprizing.

The reflecting reader need scarcely be informed, that this contested excellence can be decided in favour of neither. They have both copied from different originals, described the manners of different ages, have exhibited nature as they found her, and both are excellent in separate imitations. Homer describes his Gods as his countrymen believed them. Virgil, in a more enlightened age, describes his with a greater degree of respect; and Milton still rises infinitely above either. The machinery of Homer is best adapted to an unenlightened idolator; that of the Roman poet, to a more refined heathen; and that of Milton, to a reader illuminated by re- velation. Had Homer wrote like Milton, his countrymen would have despised him; had Milton adopted the theology of the ancient bard, he had been truly ridiculous. Again, should I depreciate Plautus for not enlivening his pieces with the characters of a coquet, or a marquis, so humourous in modern comedy; or Moliere, for not introducing a legal bawd, or a parasitical boaster, so highly finished in the Roman poet; my censure in either case would be as absurd as his, who should dislike a geoprapher for not introducing more rivers, or promontories, into a country, than nature had given it; or the natural historian, for not enlivening his description of a dead landscape with a torrent, a cataract, or a volcano.