dare to oppose me? But come, my aged parent, and you, my children
dear, and thou, my beauteous sister; let us ascend my chariot, and
haste to assist our devout Moderns, who are now sacrificing to us a
hecatomb, as I perceive by that grateful smell which from thence
reaches my nostrils."
The goddess and her train, having mounted the chariot, which was
drawn by tame geese, flew over infinite regions, shedding her
influence in due places, till at length she arrived at her beloved
island of Britain; but in hovering over its metropolis, what
blessings did she not let fall upon her seminaries of Gresham and
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Covent-garden! And now she reached the fatal plain of St. James's
library, at what time the two armies were upon the point to engage;
where, entering with all her caravan unseen, and landing upon
a
case of shelves, now desert, but once inhabited by a colony of
virtuosos, she stayed awhile to observe the posture of both armies.
But here the tender cares of a mother began to fill her thoughts
and move in her breast: for at the head of a troup of Modern
bowmen she cast her eyes upon her son Wotton, to whom the fates had
assigned a very short thread. Wotton, a young hero, whom an
unknown father of mortal race begot by stolen embraces with this
goddess. He was the darling of his mother above all her children,
and she resolved to go and comfort him. But first, according to
the good old custom of deities, she cast about to change her shape,
for fear the divinity of her countenance might dazzle his mortal
sight and overcharge the rest of his senses. She therefore
gathered up her person into an octavo compass: her body grow white
and arid, and split in pieces with dryness; the thick turned into
pasteboard, and the thin into paper; upon which her parents and
children artfully strewed a black juice, or decoction of gall and
soot, in form of letters: her head, and voice, and spleen, kept
their primitive form; and that which before was a cover of skin did
still continue so. In this guise she marched on towards the
Moderns, indistinguishable in shape and dress from the divine
Bentley, Wotton's dearest friend. "Brave Wotton," said the
goddess, "why do our troops stand idle here, to spend their present
vigour and opportunity of the day? away, let us haste to the
generals, and advise to give the onset immediately." Having spoke
thus, she took the ugliest of her monsters, full glutted from her
spleen, and flung it invisibly into his mouth, which, flying
straight up into his head, squeezed out his eye-balls, gave him
a
distorted look, and half-overturned his brain. Then she privately
ordered two of her beloved children, Dulness and Ill-manners,
closely to attend his person in all encounters. Having thus
accoutred him, she vanished in a mist, and the hero perceived it
was the goddess his mother.
The destined hour of fate being now arrived, the fight began;
whereof, before I dare adventure to make a particular description,
I must, after the example of other authors, petition for a hundred
tongues, and mouths, and hands, and pens, which would all be too
little to perform so immense a work. Say, goddess, that presidest
over history, who it was that first advanced in the field of
battle! Paracelsus, at the head of his dragoons, observing Galen
in the adverse wing, darted his javelin with a mighty force, which
the brave Ancient received upon his shield, the point breaking in
the second fold . . . HIC PAUCA
. . . . DESUNT
They bore the wounded aga on their shields to his
chariot . .
.
DESUNT . .
.
NONNULLA. . .
.
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Then Aristotle, observing Bacon advance with a furious mien, drew
his bow to the head, and let fly his arrow, which missed the
valiant Modern and went whizzing over his head; but Descartes it
hit; the steel point quickly found a defect in his head-piece; it
pierced the leather and the pasteboard, and went in at his right
eye. The torture of the pain whirled the valiant bow-man round
till death, like a star of superior influence, drew him into his
own vortex INGENS HIATUS . . . .
HIC IN MS. . . . .
. . . . when Homer appeared at the head of the cavalry, mounted
on a furious horse, with difficulty managed by the rider himself,
but which no other mortal durst approach; he rode among the enemy's
ranks, and bore down all before him. Say, goddess, whom he slew
first and whom he slew last! First, Gondibert advanced against
him, clad in heavy armour and mounted on a staid sober gelding, not
so famed for his speed as his docility in kneeling whenever his
rider would mount or alight. He had made a vow to Pallas that he
would never leave the field till he had spoiled Homer of his
armour: madman, who had never once seen the wearer, nor understood
his strength! Him Homer overthrew, horse and man, to the ground,
there to be trampled and choked in the dirt. Then with a long
spear he slew Denham, a stout Modern, who from his father's side
derived his lineage from Apollo, but his mother was of mortal race.
He fell, and bit the earth. The celestial part Apollo took, and
made it a star; but the terrestrial lay wallowing upon the ground.
Then Homer slew Sam Wesley with a kick of his horse's heel; he took
Perrault by mighty force out of his saddle, then hurled him at
Fontenelle, with the same blow dashing out both their brains.
On the left wing of the horse Virgil appeared, in shining armour,
completely fitted to his body; he was mounted on a dapple-grey
steed, the slowness of whose pace was an effect of the highest
mettle and vigour. He cast his eye on the adverse wing, with a
desire to find an object worthy of his valour, when behold upon a
sorrel gelding of a monstrous size appeared a foe, issuing from
among the thickest of the enemy's squadrons; but his speed was less
than his noise; for his horse, old and lean, spent the dregs of his
strength in a high trot, which, though it made slow advances, yet
caused a loud clashing of his armour, terrible to hear. The two
cavaliers had now approached within the throw of a lance, when the
stranger desired a parley, and, lifting up the visor of his helmet,
a face hardly appeared from within which, after a pause, was known
for that of the renowned Dryden. The brave Ancient suddenly
started, as one possessed with surprise and disappointment
together; for the helmet was nine times too large for the head,
which appeared situate far in the hinder part, even like the lady
in a lobster, or like a mouse under a canopy of state, or like a
&n
bsp; shrivelled beau from within the penthouse of a modern periwig; and
the voice was suited to the visage, sounding weak and remote.
Dryden, in a long harangue, soothed up the good Ancient; called him
father, and, by a large deduction of genealogies, made it plainly
appear that they were nearly related. Then he humbly proposed an
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exchange of armour, as a lasting mark of hospitality between them.
Virgil consented (for the goddess Diffidence came unseen, and cast
a mist before his eyes), though his was of gold and cost a hundred
beeves, the other's but of rusty iron. However, this glittering
armour became the Modern yet worsen than his own. Then they agreed
to exchange horses; but, when it came to the trial, Dryden was
afraid and utterly unable to mount. . . ALTER HIATUS
. . . . IN MS.
Lucan appeared upon a fiery horse of admirable shape, but
headstrong, bearing the rider where he list over the field; he made
a mighty slaughter among the enemy's horse; which destruction to
stop, Blackmore, a famous Modern (but one of the mercenaries),
strenuously opposed himself, and darted his javelin with a strong
hand, which, falling short of its mark, struck deep in the earth.
Then Lucan threw a lance; but AEsculapius came unseen and turned
off the point. "Brave Modern," said Lucan, "I perceive some god
protects you, for never did my arm so deceive me before: but what
mortal can contend with a god? Therefore, let us fight no longer,
but present gifts to each other." Lucan then bestowed on the
Modern a pair of spurs, and Blackmore gave Lucan a bridle. . . .
PAUCA DESUNT. . . .
. . . .
Creech: but the goddess Dulness took a cloud, formed into the
shape of Horace, armed and mounted, and placed in a flying posture
foe, and pursued the image, threatening aloud; till at last it led
him to the peaceful bower of his father, Ogleby, by whom he was
disarmed and assigned to his repose.
Then Pindar slew -, and - and Oldham, and -, and Afra the Amazon,
light of foot; never advancing in a direct line, but wheeling with
incredible agility and force, he made a terrible slaughter among
the enemy's light-horse. Him when Cowley observed, his generous
heart burnt within him, and he advanced against the fierce Ancient,
imitating his address, his pace, and career, as well as the vigour
of his horse and his own skill would allow. When the two cavaliers
had approached within the length of three javelins, first Cowley
threw a lance, which missed Pindar, and, passing into the enemy's
ranks, fell ineffectual to the ground. Then Pindar darted a
javelin so large and weighty, that scarce a dozen Cavaliers, as
cavaliers are in our degenerate days, could raise it from the
ground; yet he threw it with ease, and it went, by an unerring
hand, singing through the air; nor could the Modern have avoided
present death if he had not luckily opposed the shield that had
been given him by Venus. And now both heroes drew their swords;
but the Modern was so aghast and disordered that he knew not where
he was; his shield dropped from his hands; thrice he fled, and
thrice he could not escape. At last he turned, and lifting up his
hand in the posture of a suppliant, "Godlike Pindar," said he,
"spare my life, and possess my horse, with these arms, beside the
ransom which my friends will give when they hear I am alive and
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your prisoner." "Dog!" said Pindar, "let your ransom stay with
your friends; but your carcase shall be left for the fowls of the
air and the beasts of the field." With that he raised his sword,
and, with a mighty stroke, cleft the wretched Modern in twain, the
sword pursuing the blow; and one half lay panting on the ground, to
be trod in pieces by the horses' feet; the other half was borne by
the frighted steed through the field. This Venus took, washed it
seven times in ambrosia, then struck it thrice with a sprig of
amaranth; upon which the leather grow round and soft, and the
leaves turned into feathers, and, being gilded before, continued
gilded still; so it became a dove, and she harnessed it to her
chariot. . . .
. . . . HIATUS VALDE DE.
. . . FLENDUS IN MS.
THE EPISODE OF BENTLEY AND WOTTON.
Day being far spent, and the numerous forces of the Moderns half
inclining to a retreat, there issued forth, from a squadron of
their heavy-armed foot, a captain whose name was Bentley, the most
deformed of all the Moderns; tall, but without shape or comeliness;
large, but without strength or proportion. His armour was patched
up of a thousand incoherent pieces, and the sound of it, as he
marched, was loud and dry, like that made by the fall of a sheet of
lead, which an Etesian wind blows suddenly down from the roof of
some steeple. His helmet was of old rusty iron, but the vizor was
brass, which, tainted by his breath, corrupted into copperas, nor
wanted gall from the same fountain, so that, whenever provoked by
anger or labour, an atramentous quality, of most malignant nature,
was seen to distil from his lips. In his right hand he grasped a
flail, and (that he might never be unprovided of an offensive
weapon) a vessel full of ordure in his left. Thus completely
armed, he advanced with a slow and heavy pace where the Modern
chiefs were holding a consult upon the sum of things, who, as he
came onwards, laughed to behold his crooked leg and humped
shoulder, which his boot and armour, vainly endeavouring to hide,
were forced to comply with and expose. The generals made use of
him for his talent of railing, which, kept within government,
proved frequently of great service to their cause, but, at other
times, did more mischief than good; for, at the least touch of
offence, and often without any at all, he would, like a wounded
elephant, convert it against his leaders. Such, at this juncture,
was the disposition of Bentley, grieved to see the enemy prevail,
and dissatisfied with everybody's conduct but his own. He humbly
gave the Modern generals to understand that he conceived, with
great submission, they were all a pack of rogues, and fools, and
confounded logger-heads, and illiterate whelps, and nonsensical
scoundrels; that, if himself had been constituted general, those
beaten out of the field. "You," said he, "sit here idle, but when
I, or any other valiant Modern kill an enemy, you are sure to seize
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the spoil. But I
will not march one foot against the foe till you
all swear to me that whomever I take or kill, his arms I shall
quietly possess." Bentley having spoken thus, Scaliger, bestowing
him a sour look, "Miscreant prater!" said he, "eloquent only in
thine own eyes, thou railest without wit, or truth, or discretion.
The malignity of thy temper perverteth nature; thy learning makes
thee more barbarous; thy study of humanity more inhuman; thy
converse among poets more grovelling, miry, and dull. All arts of
civilising others render thee rude and untractable; courts have
taught thee ill manners, and polite conversation has finished thee
a pedant. Besides, a greater coward burdeneth not the army. But
never despond; I pass my word, whatever spoil thou takest shall
certainly be thy own; though I hope that vile carcase will first
become a prey to kites and worms."
Bentley durst not reply, but, half choked with spleen and rage,
withdrew, in full resolution of performing some great achievement.
With him, for his aid and companion, he took his beloved Wotton,
resolving by policy or surprise to attempt some neglected quarter
of the Ancients' army. They began their march over carcases of
their slaughtered friends; then to the right of their own forces;
then wheeled northward, till they came to Aldrovandus's tomb, which
they passed on the side of the declining sun. And now they
arrived, with fear, toward the enemy's out-guards, looking about,
if haply they might spy the quarters of the wounded, or some
straggling sleepers, unarmed and remote from the rest. As when two
mongrel curs, whom native greediness and domestic want provoke and
join in partnership, though fearful, nightly to invade the folds of
some rich grazier, they, with tails depressed and lolling tongues,
creep soft and slow. Meanwhile the conscious moon, now in her
zenith, on their guilty heads darts perpendicular rays; nor dare
they bark, though much provoked at her refulgent visage, whether
seen in puddle by reflection or in sphere direct; but one surveys
the region round, while the other scouts the plain, if haply to
discover, at distance from the flock, some carcase half devoured,
the refuse of gorged wolves or ominous ravens. So marched this
lovely, loving pair of friends, nor with less fear and
circumspection, when at a distance they might perceive two shining
suits of armour hanging upon an oak, and the owners not far off in
a profound sleep. The two friends drew lots, and the pursuing of
this adventure fell to Bentley; on he went, and in his van
Confusion and Amaze, while Horror and Affright brought up the rear.
As he came near, behold two heroes of the Ancient army, Phalaris
and AEsop, lay fast asleep. Bentley would fain have despatched
them both, and, stealing close, aimed his flail at Phalaris's
breast; but then the goddess Affright, interposing, caught the
Modern in her icy arms, and dragged him from the danger she
foresaw; both the dormant heroes happened to turn at the same
instant, though soundly sleeping, and busy in a dream. For
Phalaris was just that minute dreaming how a most vile poetaster
had lampooned him, and how he had got him roaring in his bull. And
AEsop dreamed that as he and the Ancient were lying on the ground,
a wild ass broke loose, ran about, trampling and kicking in their
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faces. Bentley, leaving the two heroes asleep, seized on both
their armours, and withdrew in quest of his darling Wotton.
He, in the meantime, had wandered long in search of some
enterprise, till at length he arrived at a small rivulet that
issued from a fountain hard by, called, in the language of mortal
men, Helicon. Here he stopped, and, parched with thirst, resolved
to allay it in this limpid stream. Thrice with profane hands he
essayed to raise the water to his lips, and thrice it slipped all
through his fingers. Then he stopped prone on his breast, but, ere
his mouth had kissed the liquid crystal, Apollo came, and in the