No More Learning

[a] Nero's ambition to excel in poetry was not only ridiculous, but,
at the same time, destructive to Lucan, and almost all the good
authors of the age. See _Annals_, b. xv. According to the old
scholiast on the Satires of Persius, the following verses were either
written by Nero, or made in imitation of that emperor's style:

Torva Mimalloneis implerunt cornua bombis,
Et raptum vitulo caput ablatura superbo
Bassaris, et lyncem Mænas flexura corymbis,
Evion ingeminat: reparabilis adsonat echo.

The affectation of rhyme, which many ages afterwards was the
essential part of monkish verse, the tumour of the words, and the
wretched penury of thought, may be imputed to a frivolous prince, who
studied his art of poetry in the manner described by Tacitus,
_Annals_, b. xiv. s. 16. And yet it may be a question, whether the
satirist would have the hardiness to insert the very words of an
imperial poet, armed with despotic power. A burlesque imitation would
answer the purpose; and it may be inferred from another passage in the
same poem, that Persius was content to ridicule the mode of
versification then in vogue at court.

Claudere sic versum didicit; Berecynthius Attin,
Et qui cæruleum dirimebat Nerea Delphin.
Sic costam longo subduximus Apennino.

[b] Vatinius was a favourite at the court of Nero. Tacitus calls him
the spawn of a cook's-shop and a tippling-house; _sutrinæ et tabernæ
alumnus_. He recommended himself to the favour of the prince by his
scurrility and vulgar humour.
Being, by those arts, raised above
himself, he became the declared enemy of all good men, and acted a
distinguished part among the vilest instruments of that pernicious
court. See his character, _Annals_ xv. s. 34. When an illiberal and
low buffoon basks in the sunshine of a court, and enjoys exorbitant
power, the cause of literature can have nothing to expect. The liberal
arts must, by consequence, be degraded by a corrupt taste, and
learning will be left to run wild and grow to seed.


Section XII.

[a] That poetry requires a retreat from the bustle of the world, has
been so often repeated, that it is now considered as a truth, from
which there can be no appeal. Milton, it is true, wrote his Paradise
Lost in a small house near _Bunhill Fields_; and Dryden courted the
muse in the hurry and dissipation of a town life. But neither of them
fixed his residence by choice. Pope grew immortal on the banks of the
Thames. But though the country seems to be the seat of contemplation,
two great writers have been in opposite opinions. Cicero says, woods
and groves, and rivers winding through the meadows, and the refreshing
breeze, with the melody of birds, may have their attraction; but they
rather relax the mind into indolence, than rouse our attention, or
give vigour to our faculties. _Sylvarum amænitas, et præterlabentia
flumina, et inspirantes ramis arborum auræ, volucrumque cantus, et
ipsa late circumspiciendi libertas ad se trahunt; at mihi remittere
potius voluptas ista videtur cogitationem, quam intendere. _ _De Orat. _
lib.