But heauenly
poesie no death can feare.
Kings shall
giue place to it, and kingly showes,
The bankes
ore which gold-bearing Tagus flowes.”
I regret
having never met William Bowman Piper, a specialist in eighteenth-century
English literature for thirty years at Rice University, who died this week at the age of ninety. Piper, who had retired even before I went to work for Rice, represents
an extinct species of academic: a scholar and teacher who loved the Western
literary tradition. He devoted books to Sterne, Shakespeare’s sonnets and to common
courtesy in eighteenth-century literature. He edited the Norton edition of The Writings of Jonathan Swift. I’ve been
looking at two of his books: The Heroic Couplet
(1969) and its complement, An Anthology
of Heroic-Couplet Poetry (1977). The lines at the top, from Ben Jonson’s The Poetaster (1601), are excerpted in
the latter volume.
It dawns on
me while looking at these books that much of my favorite poetry (Dryden, Swift,
Pope, Johnson) is written in heroic couplets, a dominant form in English from
Chaucer to Keats, as represented in Piper’s anthology. Piper writes in his
introduction to the earlier volume: “Since the decasyllabic line is the
traditional heroic line of English poetry, every English decasyllabic couplet
is a heroic couplet. Thus a history of this form must acknowledge poetic
practice beginning gloriously with the great decasyllabic couplet poems of
Chaucer and running up to the present day.”
Read
together, Piper’s books serve as a valedictory to an essential, enjoyable and
often very witty form, one that thrived from roughly 1585 to 1785. He notes
that “the romantic poets degraded and rejected it” and “our age has no Chaucer.”
Piper takes an appropriately commonsensical approach to his subject. Here he is
on Swift: “Swift also reduced the couplet itself, turning it into a flat,
talky, completely unelevated medium of communication.” He goes on to quote the great
closing triplet in “A Description of a City Shower” (1710):
“Sweepings
from Butchers Stalls, Dung, Guts, and Blood,
Drown’d Puppies,
stinking Sprats, all drench’d in Mud,
Dead Cats
and Turnip-Tops come tumbling down the Flood.”
Swift, Piper
tells us, “spares nothing,” and goes on: “In reducing both the objects of his
satiric attention and his satiric medium itself – the medium which asserts and,
indeed, symbolizes the comprehension and the detachment of such satirists as
Dryden and Pope – Swift has composed several compelling degradations of human
actions and the human intelligence.”
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