Andrew Marvell | Page 9

forerunner of the "Dunciad" and "Grub
Street" literature, by which in sundry moods 'tis "pleasure to be bound."
It describes seeking out the poetaster in his lodging "three staircases
high," at the sign of the Pelican, in a room so small that it seemed "a
coffin set in the stair's head." No sooner was the rhymer unearthed than
straightway he began to recite his poetry in dismal tones, much to his
visitor's dismay:--
"But I who now imagin'd myself brought To my last trial, in a serious
thought Calm'd the disorders of my youthful breast And to my
martyrdom preparèd rest. Only this frail ambition did remain, The last
distemper of the sober brain, That there had been some present to
assure The future ages how I did endure."
To stop the cataract of "hideous verse," Marvell invited the scarecrow
to dinner, and waits while he dresses. As they turn to leave, for the
room is so small that the man who comes in last must be the first to go
out, they meet a friend of the poet on the stairs, who makes a third at
dinner. After dinner Flecknoe produces ten quires of paper, from which
the friend proceeds to read, but so infamously as to excite their author's
rage:--
"But all his praises could not now appease The provok't Author, whom
it did displease To hear his verses by so just a curse That were ill made,
condemned to be read worse: And how (impossible!) he made yet more

Absurdities in them than were before: For his untun'd voice did fall or
raise As a deaf man upon the Viol plays, Making the half-points and
the periods run Confus'der than the atoms in the sun: Thereat the poet
swell'd with anger full,"
and after violent exclamations retires in dudgeon back to his room. The
faithful friend is in despair. What is he to do to make peace? "Who
would commend his mistress now?" Marvell
"counselled him to go in time Ere the fierce poet's anger turned to
rhyme."
The advice was taken, and Marvell, finding himself at last free from
boredom, went off to St. Peter's to return thanks.
This poem is but an unsatisfactory souvenir de voyage, but it is all there
is.
What Marvell was doing during the stirring years 1646-1650 is not
known. Even in the most troubled times men go about their business,
and our poet was always a man of affairs. As for his opinions during
these years, we can only guess at them from those to which he
afterwards gave expression. Marvell was neither a Republican nor a
Puritan. Like his father before him, he was a Protestant and a member
of the Reformed Church of England. He stood for both King and
Parliament. Archbishop Laud he distrusted, and it may well be detested,
but good churchmen have often distrusted and even detested their
archbishops. Mr. Gladstone had no great regard for Archbishop Tait.
Before the Act of Uniformity and the repressive legislation that
followed upon its heels had driven English dissent into its final moulds,
it was not doctrine but ceremonies that disturbed men's minds; and
Marvell belonged to that school of English churchmen, by no means
the least distinguished school, which was not disposed to quarrel with
their fellow-Christians over white surplices, the ring in matrimony, or
the attitude during Holy Communion. He shared the belief of a
contemporary that no system is bad enough to destroy a good man, or
good enough to save a bad one.

The Civil War was to Marvell what it was to most wise men not
devoured by faction--a deplorable event. Twenty years after he wrote in
the _Rehearsal Transprosed_:--
"Whether it be a war of religion or of liberty it is not worth the labour
to inquire. Whichsoever was at the top, the other was at the bottom; but
upon considering all, I think the cause was too good to have been
fought for. Men ought to have trusted God--they ought to have trusted
the King with that whole matter. The arms of the Church are prayers
and tears, the arms of the subject are patience and petitions. The King
himself being of so accurate and piercing a judgment would soon have
felt it where it stuck. For men may spare their pains when Nature is at
work, and the world will not go the faster for our driving. Even as his
present Majesty's happy Restoration did itself, so all things else happen
in their best and proper time, without any heed of our
officiousness."[24:1]
In the face of this passage and many another of the like spirit, it is
puzzling to find such a man, for example, as Thomas Baker, the ejected
non-juring Fellow and historian of St. John's College, Cambridge
(1656-1740), writing