Contempt for critics

A poet who knew his own mind, and had nothing but contempt and scorn for his critics (and, indeed, apparently for the rest of the world, including his mortal self) was John Marston, who flourished at the tail end of the 16th century and the early part of the 17th.  He may not be known well now for a number of reasons - an unsympathetic style and subject matter among them - but I suppose there can hardly have been a worse period in which to try and find fame through poetry!  But he has a fine, charging contempt for his critics, which I enjoy - especially when he disdains their "dungy muddy scum"!  Here, then, is John Marston's To Detraction:

FOUL canker of fair virtuous action,

Vile blaster of the freshest blooms on earth,

Envy's abhorred child, Detraction,

I here expose, to thy all-tainting breath,

The issue of my brain: snarl, rail, bark, bite,

Know that my spirit scorns Detraction's spite.

 

Know that the Genius, which attendeth on

And guides my powers intellectual,

Holds in all vile repute Detraction.

My soul - an essence metaphysical,

That in the basest sort scorns critics’ rage

Because he knows his sacred parentage -

 

My spirit is not puffed up with fat fume

Of slimy ale, nor Bacchus' heating grape.

My mind disdains the dungy muddy scum

Of abject thoughts and Envy's raging hate.

True judgement slight regards opinion;

A sprightly wit disdains Detraction.

 

A partial praise shall never elevate

My settled censure of my own esteem;

A canker’d verdict of malignant hate

Shall ne’er provoke me, worse myself to deem.

Spite of despite, and rancour’s villainy,

I am myself, so is my poesy.

Comments

[glo]

I finished reading Northanger Abbey a couple of weeks ago and I think this one is much better than Pride and Prejudice from a strictly literary point of view. It is far more finalized and achieved than the first novel, which content is more educational about historic, sociologic and legal aspects though.
Anyway, I just want to point out that Miss Austen too expressed her negative feelings towards critics. I guess you remember very well her words, it is at the end of Chapter 5. I won't quote all that she says because it takes her a good two pages but here are only a few excerpts.
It starts with: "Yes, novels;- for I will not adopt that ungenerous and impolitic custom so common with novel writers, of degrading by their contemptuous censure the very performances, to the numbers of which they are themselves adding....... Let us leave to the Reviewers to abuse such effusions of fancy at their leisure, and over every new novel to talk in threadbare strains of the trash with which the press now groans.........There seems almost a general wish of decrying the capacity and undervaluing the labour of the novelist, and of slighting the performances which have only genius, wit, and taste to recommend them." etc, etc...

[Natalie T.]

Thank you for the delightful reminder of Marston’s vigor and spleen. His play “The Malcontent” begins with this line: Sir , the Gentlemen will be angry if you sit heare.

“What You Will” begins: “O I beseech you Sir reclaime his wits,
My masters mad, starke mad, alasse for loue,” and “Strathmore” begins with the line:
“The night is bitter.”

I love a spot of acidulity in mid-winter. Thank you.