The Art of Sinking in Poetry

Alexander Pope

It’s difficult not to imagine Alexander Pope as some sort of emaciated, intellectual grandee; but he and John Gay, Jonathan Swift and John Arbuthnot, fellow members of the Scriblerus Club, were among the leading satirists of their time.

Credited to Martin Scriblerus, this slim volume is a piss-taking satire much like Machiavelli’s The Prince. As Machiavelli modelled his book on fawning works of ‘advice’ given to powerful leaders by lesser men hoping for elevation, Pope had a knock at those who were prey to the then current obsession with the ‘sublime’ in poetry as well as painting, to the extent of making all the right noises or shapes but in the end saying nothing; his work following the shape of classical aesthetic treatises. Having identified bathos (and adding this Greek word to the English lexicon) as being as worthy of striving after as more lofty concerns, he gently sets out the rules for producing perfectly bad poetry. He singles out for praise, chapter by chapter, examples of grandiose mediocrity, listing examples of awkward synecdoche and metaphor while shoving in chunks of unbelievably silly contemporary works to illustrate those he describes as 'A-la-mode' and 'Pert' styles.

As well as being a warning to writers who strive for effect rather than content, this is a quietly entertaining read. It’s also, having been written in the 18th century, a fascinating and colourful glimpse of the social and cultural mores of the times. There could not be a better time to see it republished: we have rarely been more bothered with the misuse of language, both by writers and politicians.

But this is not only a textbook for aspiring bad poets. It could be required reading in many art schools, particularly those that follow Goldsmith’s example, where they promote self-interpretation or statements of intent over actually making things that mean something in themselves.

A genuine writer of the profound will take care never to magnify any object without clouding it at the same time. His thought will appear in a true mist, and very unlike what it is in nature. It must always be remembered that darkness is an essential quality of the profound or, if there chance to be a glimmering, it must be as Milton expresses it:
No light, but darkness visible.

This, for a start, is invaluable advice to all those who simply present found or commissioned objects or who make ‘installations’ consisting of rooms containing nothing that will stimulate either the senses or the intellect, all relying totally on the pieces of paper which explain the intended meaning of the objects or which list the metaphors that these objects are intended to represent. If they defenestrate all sense of irony they will certainly feel a benefit through reading this.
As an example of how prescient Pope was, two sub-headings are The Jargon, and The Antithesis, or Seesaw.

When conjecturing how the low populace should be coached in appreciation, he had a go at critics too, and even looked forward to the TV age:

It may be convenient to place the Council of Six in some conspicuous situation in the theatres, where after the manner usually practised by composers in music, they may give signs - before settled and agreed upon - of dislike or approbation. In consequence of these signs the whole audience shall be required to clap or hiss, that the town may learn certainly when and how far they aught to be pleased.

The Art of Sinking in Poetry
Alexander Pope
Oneworld Classics £8.99